Page 162 of Intense
It isn’t a question.
“Oh, I can’t wait to see where my rich boy lives,” I tease him.
His arms tighten around me, his teeth sinking into my shoulder.
“What’s mine is yours, love.”
I smile as I drift off in his arms, with a happiness I haven’t felt for a long time, if ever.
His screams ripthrough the room, and I startle awake. Sitting up, I turn my bedside light on, creating a warm glow.
My heart is in my throat as I watch him scratching at his chest, as if he’s fighting something off of him.
“No. Get off me. Don’t touch me,” he cries out. It’s desperate and painful.
His voice is like a knife through my skin, piercing me.
Fuck. He’s having a nightmare.
“Finn, it’s me,” I whisper, trying not to wake him up too abruptly.
He could hurt me. Worse, he could kill me with one hand.
“No!” he screams.
I scoot closer, holding my breath as I reach out to his hand. He slaps me away, the contact brutal. I wince but stay where I am.
“Finn, baby. It’s just a nightmare. I’m here,” I say softly.
His eyes flash open, and I don’t recognize him; he’s dead behind the eyes. Evil.
A scream rips through me as he launches himself at me, pinning me on my back, his hand squeezing around my throat like he wants to take my life.
“Fuck you,” he spits.
“Finn!” I scream.
But I don’t fight him. I just need to get through to him. Wake him up.
“Finn, it’s me. Your wife,” I say harshly.
His body slumps, his grip on my throat less deadly, but still there. He blinks rapidly, focusing on me.
His face pales as he realizes what’s just happened.
I reach out to him, and he bats my hand away, shaking his head. He rolls off of me and onto his back, gasping for air.
I sit up, taking a shaky breath.
“Finn, are you okay?” I ask.
“I need to leave.” His voice is cold and cruel.
“No.”
I scoot closer, and he flinches.
He sucks in a breath as if it’s his last one.
