Page 74 of The Hunter
But it wasn’t the gentle murmur from last night as she coaxed me from sleep. This was different. Frantic. Pained.
“No. Please. Don’t!” she cried, struggling against the sheets.
I sat up, my pulse racing.
She thrashed beside me, her face twisted in agony, tears streaking her cheeks even as her eyes stayed closed.
“Stop. Don’t. I won’t do it again. I swear.”
My chest squeezed as a clawing sensation climbed up my throat.
I wanted to wake her but knew I shouldn’t. Not if she was having a night terror. I knew from experience the worst thing to do to someone in that situation was to startle them awake. So I just watched. And tried to soothe her with my words.
“Ariana,” I began, reaching out carefully and running a soft hand up and down her arm.
God, her skin was so soft. So silky.
“It’s okay. You’re safe. Whatever you see right now, it’s not real. Just listen to my voice. To me. BecauseI’mreal. Nothing else.”
She didn’t wake. Just cried harder, chest heaving, legs kicking out.
Was this a result of her current circumstances? Because of me?
It shouldn’t matter. Itdidn’tmatter. A few night terrors were a small price to pay compared to what happened to Sarah.
But something didn’t sit right with me. That nagging feeling returned, telling me I was missing something. But what?
I considered slipping out of bed, attempting to limp all the way down to the basement to see if Salvatore had been able to dig up something on the ghost.
Then Ariana’s eyes shot open. She sucked in a breath so sharp it was like surfacing from a drowning. Her gaze darted frantically around the room before landing on mine.
Any fight she had left in her instantly disappeared and she crumpled back against the bed, her eyes closed once more.
I stared at her, my mind racing with possibilities about what could have brought this on.
This wasn’t just a reaction to captivity. I felt it in my gut.
This went deeper than that.
This was history.
I thought I knew every page of it where she was concerned.
With every second I spent in her presence, I was becoming less and less sure.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ariana
I woke to sunlight streaming through the window, bathing the room in a soft glow. Despite how long I’d slept, I still felt bone-tired. Like my body had been fighting a war in my sleep and barely survived. My limbs were heavy, my eyelids gritty, as if I’d been crying.
When I finally managed to focus my gaze, it immediately fell on Henry. His breathing was deep and even, his lips parted slightly. His stubble had thickened into the kind of rugged scruff I couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel across my bare skin. Between my thighs.
I quickly shook off the thought, carefully sliding out of bed and tiptoeing out of the room, mindful not to wake him up.
As I descended the stairs into the sun-drenched living room, Cato jumped up from his bed, his tail wagging.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, scratching him between his ears.
