Page 39 of The Edge of Dawn

“Shh.” And then, a familiar voice wrapped around her consciousness, and the pain of her entire existence being torn apart became a little less excruciating.

It’s you. Are you here? Really?

I am here.

Something came to rest against the sides of her neck. Something rough and hard and alive.

Something blessedly cool.

Gentle.

His hands.

Somehow, he knew exactly where to press his hands so that she felt calmer. At the same time, he did something, radiating invisible energy that rippled across her skin, raising goosebumps on her arms.

For a precious moment, she forgot all about the terror in her mind.

For a sublime moment, she allowed him to touch her, to gently caress her neck, where he made tiny circles with his callused fingers. Her thundering heartbeat slowed. She was floating, separated from the catastrophe in her mind. He surrounded her with his dark, silent energy, wrapping her in a cocoon of unbreakable stillness.

Remember who you are. Do not allow your mind to fracture over this. Compared to what you can become now, everything that has come before is trivial.

Dream-boy, what are you saying? In the midst of her despair, she latched onto something—anything—that reminded her she was herself.

That she was human.

In this case, it was something small and inane.

If that meant calling the scary, lethal, telepathic alien silly names, then so be it.

“But you’re wrong, aren’t you? Now you have proof that I do not exist merely in your dreams.” His voice—his real voice—wrapped around her like decadent silk. It was resonant and seductive and alien, and she swore she felt his breath feather across the back of her neck.

“Maybe I just think the name suits you. You came to me in a dream, after all.”

“That wasn’t a dream.”

“God…” She didn’t have the capacity to understand any of this right now. She was hanging onto her sanity by a thread, and the only thing stopping her from going over the edge completely was him.

“I’m no god,” he murmured. “Quite the opposite.”

“It’s a figure of speech,” she said dryly. “Are you going to take me out of here now?”

“Yes.”

“Up that rickety ladder? Not even you can carry me up that thing.”

“I could, but there’s an easier way.” The sound of his voice was really something else—almost too good to be true. It soothed everything inside her—pain, both physical and psychic. But she didn’t dare turn around, out of fear that the being behind her would be different from the man she’d encountered in her dreams.

No. He was right.

You were real all along.

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and focused on the sensation of his cool, steady fingers against her neck. She basked in the energy he radiated, which chased away the ghosts in her mind like the sun burning away the mist.

Her thoughts grew blissfully quiet.

How the hell does he do that?

How was it possible that the antidote to her chaos was capable of so much violence and chaos himself?

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