Page 26 of Protected from Malice
It’s familiar. Achingly so.
Rafe.
His voice reaches through the sticky darkness and grabs hold of me. Pulls me free.
My eyes fly open to find Rafe leaning over me, his features lined with worry.
He’s perched on the edge of the bed, wearing boxers and a T-shirt that shows off his tattooed arms. The light on the bedside table is on, its warm glow softening the hard angles of his face. His brows pinch into a deep V as he looks at me.
“Eden,” he says gently. Soothingly. “Are you okay? Do you know where you are?”
I try to answer, but the words get stuck.
Yes.
I’m at the hotel. With Rafe.
It was just a nightmare. Not real. Not anymore.
“Eden, baby. Can you talk to me?” Rafe touches my shoulder. The heat from his hand seeps into me, gradually unthawing my body. “I know you’re scared,” he adds, “but you’re safe. I promise.”
Right.
I’m safe. Rafe won’t let anyone hurt me.
Ragged remnants of memory scatter as my nightmare recedes.
Instinctively, I put my hand over his.
“I’m at the hotel,” I whisper. “It was just a nightmare. I’m okay.”
Rafe wraps his fingers around mine, sending a rush of heat and static electricity flowing through them.
His breath comes out in a heavy rush. “Shit, Eden.” His jaw works. As I push myself up in bed, his gaze sweeps over me, carefully assessing. Then he turns my hand over and holds his thumb to my pulse. After ten seconds or so, he frowns. “Your pulse is way too fast. So is your breathing. Try to take some deep breaths. Okay?”
The stubborn part of me wants to insist I’m fine.
But I know from experience that this kind of nightmare can throw me into a full-blown panic attack if I don’t calm my body down. And Ireallydon’t want Rafe to see that. Me, shaking all over, my sweat-soaked clothes clinging, breath sawing in and out in frantic gasps, whimpering…
No, Idon’twant Rafe seeing that.
So I use the technique my counselor taught me, breathing from low in my diaphragm—in for five, hold for five, then release. I repeat it until my breath evens out and my heart doesn’t feel like it’s about to beat out of my chest anymore.
The entire time, Rafe’s thumb rests on my wrist. Counting. Slowly caressing.
Wait.
Is he? Not just touching my skin, but stroking it?
No. Surely that’s all in my head. Rafe is just worried. He wants to make sure I’m not going to hyperventilate and pass out on him.
Meeting his gaze, I work to steady my voice. “I’m okay. Really.” Glancing around the room, I notice the makeshift bed Rafe insisted on—just the comforter and a pillow set on the floor by the door—is in disarray, like he flung it aside in his hurry to get to me.
“Sorry for waking you up,” I add. “I didn’t mean?—”
“Eden.” Rafe lets go of my hand, and I only just stop myself from grabbing hold of him again. He adjusts the sheets that are tangled around my legs and pulls them back over my lap. “Don’t apologize for having a nightmare. And you didn’t wake me up.”
I angle my head at the comforter on the floor. “It sure looks like I did.”
