Page 40 of Jacob

“Do you have nightmares?” she asked his chest. Stupid thing to say. What macho guy would admit to nightmares?

He was silent a beat. “All the time,” he replied.

She lifted her head in surprise. The very low light showed his expression. Sober, serious. White brackets around his mouth.

“Yeah?”

He nodded.

Well, yeah. Of course. Every article described him as a ‘highly decorated soldier’. The military didn’t give out medals for neatness or punctuality. They gave them out for outstanding valor. For bravery in the face of extreme danger. For running toward danger even when people shot at you.

She knew herself. Knew if someone shot at her, she’d run away as fast as her legs could carry her.

He’d shot people, been shot at. Had seen things that would have wrecked her forever. Yes, of course he had nightmares.

“I have a recurring one. I’m mired in mud, can’t move my arms or my legs, can’t reach my weapon and a haji stands above me and aims his rifle straight at me. So close I can see inside the barrel. His trigger finger moves and I wake up.”

Alex thought about that. About what would cause nightmares like that.

Jacob nudged her with his shoulder. “And you?”

“Me what?”

“What was your nightmare about?”

“Don’t remember.” She frowned.

“Sure you do.”

“What?” She swiveled her head to glare up at him. “What did you say? How dare you! You think you know my nightmare better than I do?”

“There was darkness,” he said. “Darkness and cold.”

Her mouth snapped shut.

“A heavy menace in the air. Someone threatening you.”

“Someone threatening all of us,” she whispered. “How did you know?”

“Nightmares have structures, and I know all of them.”

And Alex looked at him. Really looked. Looked beyond her anger and hurt at his abandonment. Looked beyond his power and wealth, even. And saw him. Jake Simpson, who had somehow morphed into Jacob Black. A dirt-poor rawboned teenager who’d never known love and kindness, except for what he got in the Hethering household. A boy who’d grown up with a monster for a father and who joined the military as soon as it was legally possible.

He’d said that he was immediately recognized as top soldier potential and was fast-tracked into the field. While she was navigating college classes and term papers, he was fighting for his country, a boy who’d known nothing but violence and degradation all his life, except in her home.

There was absolutely nothing left of that boy in Jacob’s face. He was hard, battle-scarred, having seen and done things she could scarcely imagine. His face was like a brick wall, unyielding.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you know nightmares, inside and out,” she said softly. He nodded. “Do you wake up scared?”

He looked like he was scared of nothing on this earth, but the very nature of nightmares was that they were terrifying in a way you can’t defend yourself from. Monsters coming up from your subconscious, reminding you of the skull beneath the skin. Reminding you of pain and death waiting around every corner. By definition, in a nightmare you were powerless. Couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

The body was flooded with specific neurotransmitters—gamma-aminobutyric acid and glycine. It was the body’s way of protecting you from acting out your dreams, paralyzing chemicals the body sent out to keep you still while asleep. You were in danger and couldn’t move.

Nightmares were terrifying.

“Oh yeah.” His voice was a deep rumble, a bit hesitant, as if the words were dragged out of his very soul.

“But you never tell anyone, right?”

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