Page 23 of Deadmen's Queen

Night was never a good time for me. When I was out with the guys, or working, I didn’t mind the darkness, but in the solitude of my bedroom, I hated it. Sleep made me feel vulnerable, and I’d worked very hard for years to avoid that. I would sleep with the lights on, even now, but only for three or four hours at the most. I had trained myself to survive on that. We had enemies, and so did our families. If we were to be attacked, they would come at night.

Enemies always came at night. I had learned that at the age of ten, when he started coming to my room. Back then, I liked the darkness. It had hidden his face, had hidden mine, and I could pretend it was simply a nightmare and not someone I loved hurting me. It had been six years since I’d built myself into a man and become undesirable, but he still came every night in my nightmares. It was like being dragged underwater, deep and suffocating, back into the dirty, degrading past I could never scrub clean. I'd jerk awake, gasping, heart a sledgehammer against my ribs, sometimes slipping into a full panic attack. They were more than nightmares; they were echoes of a life I couldn't escape, no matter how many miles or years I put between that hellhole and me.

Now I refused to be taken unawares. Bast was an early riser, so I tended to wait until I knew he’d be up in the next couple of hours before I lay down. I usually spent the rest of the time reading, or down in the gym working out. Not tonight though.

Tonight the lights were out so I couldn’t read, and there was no way I was leaving the room. Tonight the darkness wasn’t empty, it wasn’t lonely. Tonight it was filled by the soft sounds of Paige’s breathing - a slow and steady rhythm that calmed the chaos in my head just enough to keep me from spiralling. Even without looking at her, I knew she was there, her presence a balm to the raw edges of my psyche.

The woman in my bed stirred briefly, letting out a sigh before rolling over to face me and settling again. I could just about make out the features of her face in the moonlight. I couldn’t understand how she’d managed to make such an enemy, that she was actually in danger, but here we were. She was utterly harmless and sweet. Who would want to hurt her?

I would. I could admit the truth to myself in the dark. I wanted to hurt her. Not like him. Not to cause her fear. No, I wanted to see my marks on her skin. A necklace around her throat, fingerprints on her thighs, my handprints on her delicious ass. I wanted to chase her, hunt her down, feel the racing of her heart under my hands as I pushed her to the ground and took her. Maybe I wasn’t so different from the person terrorising her, but I wanted her to want it too. I wanted her screams to be from pleasure, not from fear.

I swallowed, shoving the thought away as my cock started to harden. The hunt was coming up after the Christmas holidays, and I was both excited and dreading it. There was something about Paige that had me craving her, wanting her more than I’d ever wanted anyone, and with that came an immobilising fear that the strength of my desire would cause me to lose control and damage her.

She whimpered in her sleep, shifting restlessly and I was jolted from my thoughts. Her breath hitched in her chest, breaking that perfect rhythm. I watched as her delicate brow furrowed and she let out a small cry. She shifted in her sleep, turning away, then back, fingers twisting in the sheets.

“Don't,” she whimpered, a small frightened sound that pierced through me.

I realized she was whimpering in her sleep, trapped in the throes of a nightmare. My heart pounded in my chest as I moved closer hesitantly, unsure whether to wake her or not.

“Paige,” I called softly, my voice barely breaking the quiet hum of the room. “Wake up.”

She couldn’t hear me, her cries getting louder and more distressed. Panic fluttered in my chest, but I ignored it, crossing the room and standing next to the bed, looking down at her. I moved closer, a hand reaching out to touch the silken threads of her hair. I hesitated, hovering over her. I wasn't a good guy. I wasn't the hero she needed to save her from the monsters in her dreams.

She cried out, reaching out in the dark and I caught her hand, pressing her palm flat against my chest.

“Paige,” I whispered softly, not wanting to startle her awake. She twitched at the sound of my voice but didn't wake up. With more urgency this time, I said again louder, “Paige!”

Her eyes flew open then, panic-stricken and terrified, flitting around the room as if expecting some unseen danger lurking in the corners. Confusion clouded her gaze for a moment before it cleared and she focused on me, her face filled with such raw fear and vulnerability that all thoughts of my own fears were extinguished.

“Nate?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

I nodded, offering a small smile. “It's okay, Paige. You had a nightmare.”

I let go of her hand, meaning to go back to my chair, but her hand reached out, grabbing mine. I instantly pulled away, reacting without thinking, and she looked up at me with tears in her eyes.

“Don't leave,” she pleaded. “Don’t leave me alone, Nate.”

Caught off guard by her plea, I hesitated. The air around us was charged, potent with an intensity that threatened to swallow me whole.

“I need you.” The words came as a whisper, her voice trembling with fear and vulnerability. It was too much, too soon, and yet I couldn't resist those wide innocent eyes filled with terror and pleading. Fuck. I cursed inwardly, my mind swirling with conflict.

“Alright.” The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Relief washed over her face and she scooted back across the bed, leaving plenty of space for me. My heart pounded erratically as I lay down beside her, our bodies mere inches apart. Her hand found mine again in the darkness, her fingers twining with mine, and this time I forced myself not to pull away. She needed this.

As we lay there in silence, with only the quiet sounds of our breathing filling the room, I felt a strange sense of calm settle over me. Like we were in our own private bubble where the monsters couldn't reach us.

“That nightmare... it seemed pretty intense.” I murmured. “Are you okay?”

She was silent for a brief moment before responding. “Yes,” she whispered. “It's just... it's been hard recently.”

“I know,” I reply softly.

I could feel her trembling slightly beneath my touch and instinctively I wanted to hold her closer to me, offer some form of comfort. But fear held me back.

“Do you want me to get Tristan?” I asked, hating myself for being so fucking weak.

“No. You make me feel safe, Nate,” she murmured, and warmth spread over me at her words. I was a danger, a risk to her safety. Yet, I also held the power to comfort her, to make her feel safe. The thought both terrified and thrilled me. A war was raging inside me, one side craving intimacy, the other fearing it.

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