Page 161 of Modern Romance September 2025 5-8
Aurora’s sleep-heavy eyes flew wide open.
Yellow-white light crackled and lit up the sky outside. Water ran in a river down the panelled glass. The heavy drapes were open, and the next streak of lightning illuminated the room through the two large windows. Everything inside the room remained still, undisturbed by the storm.
The room dimmed as the lightning receded, but Aurora’s restlessness remained. And it wasn’t the wind or the thunder that disturbed her.
It was…
Slowly she turned her head on the once plump white pillow now indented from her head, from the pressure of her straining body after Sebastian had crept into bed that night. Slid beneath the heavy white linen, pressed his naked body against hers, and given her release. Again and again, until her listless body had clung to his, and she’d fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She wasn’t clinging to him now.
She wasn’t asleep.
And it wasn’t the storm that had woken her.
It washim.
‘No…’ he mumbled, his restless head arched, his thick neck straining. ‘Please…No!’
‘Shush,’ she soothed, and reached between them, under the sheets, and placed her hand on his chest. It was solid. His muscles were so taut.
‘Amelia…’ Sweat beaded on his forehead. His chestnut hair streaked across his furrowed forehead was black from the moisture soaking his body.
She pushed it back, cleared his forehead with a gentle swipe of her palm. ‘You’re dreaming,’ she said in a hushed whisper.
‘I’m sorry…’ Tremors raked through his body. ‘I’m so sorry…’ he croaked on a barely contained sob, and that broke something inside her.
When Michael had died, she’d had so many dreams. Dreams of all the things she should have done and hadn’t. She’d woken tear-drenched and raked with guilt. All alone.
He wasn’t alone now.
She couldn’t see what was doing it. Hurting him. But she could stop whatever was invading his sleep. She could make it go away.
‘Sebastian.’ She sat up beside him, stroked his broad bare shoulders. ‘Wake up.’
Lightning crackled.
His eyes opened, wide and haunted. He looked up at her but he didn’t speak. His face haggard, he stared at her, his breathing deep and uneven.
Emotion bubbled in her chest. Her eyes crowded with tears.
‘What was she like?’
‘Who?’ he rasped roughly.
She couldn’t help it. A tear slipped free.
He cleared his throat. ‘Why are you crying?’ His hand lifted to her cheek. The pad of his big thumb caught the tear. Wiped it away.
‘For you,’ she said. ‘And Amelia.’
His hand fell to his side. Focus returned to his glazed eyes with sharp intensity. ‘What did I say?’
‘You were dreaming,’ she explained.
His brow furrowed. ‘I haven’t dreamt of her for over a decade.’
He threw a hand over his eyes. Hid the shadows that had entered his eyes with the sound of his sister’s name.
