Page 61 of Hell to Pay

“What the fuck are you doing?” My heart stuttered in my chest before I realized Rafe wasn’t talking to me. He was in his nightmare, his voice low and menacing. “What thefuckare you doing? You can’t…” His breath came even faster. “You can’t do that. Shit… Fuck…”

I hurried toward the bed as his voice built to a crescendo.

“Stop it right now…” He started thrashing in bed, like he was fighting someone off. “I will… I’ll do it…”

I reached hesitantly toward him, not wanting to make it worse.

“Rafe,” I spoke softly at first, but then he started crying, still thrashing, and my heart just about broke at the sound, a long, low wail that didn’t even sound human emerging from his mouth. “Rafe!”

He sat up so fast I shrunk back, my heart pounding.

His eyes were wild, and I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

He shook me off and for a split second I wondered if he was going to strike out at me, thinking I was the enemy in his nightmare.

“It’s me,” I said in a hurry. “It’s Lilah.”

He froze and I saw the fight leave his body, although his shoulders were still tense. “Lilah?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?” He didn’t sound mad, just confused.

“I heard you having a nightmare,” I said. “Everyone else is asleep.”

He fell back onto the bed. “Fuck… fuck.”

I reached out instinctively to touch his forehead and felt the sweat on his brow. “I’ll be right back.”

I went to the attached bathroom, surprised to see it held a tub only because it was hard to imagine Rafe cramming his giant body into a bathtub, and ran cold water on one of the clean washcloths I found on the shelf stacked with towels.

After squeezing out the excess water, I turned out the light and stopped at the mini-fridge for a bottle of water on my way back to the bed.

He took the water from my hand and lifted his head to drink, then lay back down, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

I lay the washcloth on his forehead carefully, half expecting him to be a dick and tell me to get out. But he just lay there, let me drape the damp washcloth on his brow like he was a patient and I was his nurse.

“That feels good,” he said.

“I’m glad.”

I reached over to adjust the washcloth and he closed one hand around my wrist. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. There was just the heat of his skin on mine, his touch as searing as a brand around my wrist.

“Thank you,” he finally said.

“You’re welcome.” I started to stand, intending to leave now that he was awake, but his voice stopped me.

“Can you just… can you just stay for a bit?” he asked. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but…”

I nodded and sat on the bed, backing up against the headboard so that I was sitting next to his head on the pillow.

“Can I get you anything else?” I asked.

“No… thank you.”

We settled into the quiet, nothing but the sound of summer coming from the other side of the open doors to Rafe’s balcony.

I thought he’d gone back to sleep, was getting ready to creep from the room, when he spoke again.

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