Page 34 of Scarred Mate (Silverdawn Wolves 2)

“Dorian? Wake up.”

He didn't. He kept growling, thrashing, and twisting. “Stop!” he shouted, making me jump. “Stop!”

He was throwing himself about, brushing his arms as if something were crawling on him. I looked around the room, unsure what to do because I didn't want to force him awake and startle him.

I couldn’t recall ever seeing him have a nightmare this bad.

His claws sliced through his skin when he turned onto his side and placed a hand on his chest.

“Dorian!” I shouted while quickly straddling him. He was going to hurt himself like this, so I tried to hold his hands. “Dorian! Wake up! You're hurting yourself. Wake up!"

His eyes popped open, bright like flashlights in the dead of night, and before I knew what was happening, he grabbed my wrists and flipped me over. With him hovering over me, a soft, strangled cry left me, his hold a little too tight, and as if a vail was lifted, his eyes stopped glowing.

He threw himself off me and jumped off the bed, looking around in confusion and panic.

I held my left wrist, and while he didn't cut me, he'd definitely squeezed me a little too tight.

“M—Marian?” he stuttered, and I sat up. He looked around the room as if checking where he was. “What are you doing in here?”

“I went to the kitchen to get some water. I heard you growling and yelling, so I came in," I pointed to his chest. "You were hurting yourself in your sleep."

He looked down, touching the scratches lightly.

"Are you okay?" I asked, and he looked my way, frowning while watching me rub my wrist.

“Did I hurt you?” he moved so fast he was holding my hand in the blink of an eye. "Marian, did I hurt you? Did I cut you?”

He started examining my body until I cupped his cheeks, and he stopped. "I'm fine," I whispered. "You didn’t hurt me.”

He exhaled heavily but didn't pull away. His face was sweaty, and I moved over for him to sit down. Leaning forward, he palmed his face in both hands, his naked shoulders moving up and down with each breath.

Up close, I eyed his tattoos, admiring them in the semi-darkness. My attention was drawn to the scars on his back, and without thinking, I reached out to touch one, but he stiffened, and I pulled away.

"Sorry," I mumbled, and he turned to me.

"Don't be. It's okay."

The scratches on his chest were already healing, and I rolled to the other side of the bed and got up. "I'll get something to clean the blood. Okay?”

He didn’t respond. He’d looked so haunted, as if he wasn’t really seeing me when he looked at me but beyond me. What was he dreaming about?

When I fetched a warm cloth from his bathroom and returned to the room, he sat up in bed, his back to the headboard. He was staring straight ahead, unblinking and completely still. I hadn’t noticed before, occupied by what was happening, but he was only wearing boxers.

His right ankle to his knee was tattooed, every inch of his skin covered like his upper body, and I was stunned at how beautiful he was, as if I'd never seen his body before. I'd learned every curve and muscle in the past, but he looked so different now.

Every inch of him was made of muscle.

Clearing my throat, I joined him, avoiding his unwavering stare while I cleaned the blood from his chest. When he was clean, I found the spot void of marks. It was like nothing had happened.

“I’ll never get used to that,” I laughed softly, and he held my arm before I could walk away.

“Are you certain I didn’t hurt you?” he demanded, and I nodded.

He held onto me for a few seconds, his eyes roaming my body, and I became conscious that I was only wearing his shirt and nothing else. My heart skipped a beat when I thought about the fact I'd removed my underwear as well and washed it for tomorrow when I’d leave.

I always kept extra clothes and necessities in my car, but I cleaned it two days ago and took everything out. I was aware of how naked I was under Dorian’s shirt.

Don't think about it, Marian! He can hear your heartbeat!

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