Page 65 of Moonlit Thorns

I stare at the doors for a heartbeat. Will Asher be upset if I disturb him?

A flicker of movement in the shadows causes me to take action. I don’t want to stand in this hallway by myself any longer.

The moment I set my hand on the doorknob, the music stops. The silence is so abrupt that it takes me a moment to find my bearings and make sense of the new sound coming from inside Asher’s room. A sound that reminds me of the time my father took me hunting, and he didn’t get a clean shot on a bear. It howled in anguish until he was able to put it out of its misery.

I push open the doors to find the room dark. Fumbling for a light, I finally find a switch that turns on a lamp in the far corner. It’s not much, but it’s enough for me to see Asher thrashing in his sheets, shouting.

“No! No! Stop!” He must have been screaming for some time, because his voice is hoarse.

With no regard for my safety and whether it’s a good idea to wake him in the middle of what I assume is a nightmare or night terror, I rush over to the bed. “Asher! Asher!”

He doesn’t hear me. The sheets are twisted in his hands, and his face is crumpled in pain. “No, stop. Please, stop. I promise I won’t do it again!”

Tears prick my eyes. “Asher.” I touch his shoulder. When he still doesn’t wake up, I shake him. “Asher, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.” I shake him harder, letting my fingernails dig into his skin. “Asher!”

His eyes snap open, and he startles me when he bolts into a sitting position, and his hand wraps around my neck.

Oh, god. This is why they tell you not to wake someone.

My hands grab his wrists. “Asher, it’s Anabelle,” I manage to say before he squeezes too hard.

He blinks a few times, his eyes clearing from the grips of his nightmare. “Anabelle?”

His brow furrows. Then he notices that he has me by the throat, and his face crumples as he drops his hand to the bed, fisting the sheets. Seeing him so forlorn and desolate makes something snap in my chest. There’s no trace of the powerful, hard-as-steel man I’m used to.

“Are you okay?” I cup his face. I don’t care if he doesn’t want me to show him any affection or comfort.

But he doesn’t push me away. Instead, he hauls me onto the bed with him, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing. He dips his head into my neck, sucking in air.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” My hands run up and down his bare back, his skin hot and moist with sweat. “It was just a dream.”

“No, it wasn’t,” he whispers into my throat.

I stiffen then relax into his hold. Obviously whatever he was dreaming wasn’t his imagination, but the replay of something terrible that has happened to him.

We stay like that for a few minutes until Asher’s breathing returns to normal. When he pulls away, and I meet his gaze, the air rushes from his lungs. I see the extent of his pain. I don’t know what happened to him, but it must have been bad to still haunt him to this day.

“Are you all right?” I ask, taking his hand.

He nods then clears his throat. “Yeah. Thanks for waking me.”

I nod. “Of course. Sorry I barged in here.”

He doesn’t ask why I was even down at his end of the wing, and I don’t offer the information about the song. I’m not sure he’d believe me anyway.

“It’s fine.” He pulls his hand away from me and pushes it through his hair.

“Okay well, I’m going to head back to my room and try to get back to sleep.”

I move to push off the bed, but he grips my wrist, keeping me in place.

“Will you stay?” His voice is a near whisper.

Part of me thinks that he hates himself for asking, but a warm sensation blooms in my chest, like a rose just loosening its petals. “Of course. Yes.” I nod.

His shoulders relax in relief.

“Just let me turn the light off.” I motion to the small lamp in the corner.

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