Page 77 of Claim

“No, no, no. It’s not okay. It’s not safe.”

“Open your eyes and look at me.”

The command had me jolting, and slowly, realization crept in.

It was the dream. That fucking dream.

Sweat covered every inch of my body, and the rawness of my throat told me I’d screamed my terror.

Lifting my lashes, I stared up at Damon through tear-filled eyes. The concern on his face had my heart clenching. I couldn’t remember a time when anyone held me after a nightmare.

I’d never screamed in all the times I’d relived this memory. I kept quiet every time, no matter the confusion, shock, or horror of seeing my parents with that third person.

In my memories, I’d closed the panel, hidden away again until the noises stopped. Then, I’d kept anyone from knowing I’d arrived home early and pretended everything was normal, going as far as to change back into my school clothes.

It wasn’t until later in the evening that I’d let Mom notice that I’d caught an illness. And as usual, she’d handed me off to the live-in nanny to care for me since she had to attend an event.

A sick child was no reason to cancel any social engagement.

Damon reached over to the bedside table, turned on the lamp, and grabbed a glass of water before bringing it to my lips. “Drink this.”

The cool liquid eased the discomfort in my throat, and I released a sigh. “Thank you for waking me.”

“You were panicking in absolute terror. It took shouting in your face to wake you up.” His arms tighten around me. “Do you have nightmares like this often?”

“Once in a while, but nothing like this. I’ve never cried out or woken anyone before.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Talk about it. Umm no.

The dream made no sense, especially since the ending wasn’t how it usually went. But why couldn’t I remember what happened in the room this time?

I shook my head. “No, I can’t even explain it to myself. I’m not sure how I would be able to tell you.”

Setting the glass back on the side table, he tilted my chin. “Tell me what you remember.”

His serious gaze and the worry etched there had my heartbeat accelerating. He was all in with this thing we’d started tonight in the greenhouse.

“I can’t put it into comprehensible words for myself. So how am I going to tell you?” I cup his cheek, giving him a slight smile. “It’s over now. I’m okay. You took care of me.”

The crease between his brows said I’d far from convinced him that I’d spoken the truth. Instead of saying something as I’d expected, he pressed a button on a controller near his side of the headboard, and the curtains drew open to reveal a breathtaking one-eighty-degree view of the New York City skyline at night. Then he landed back, pulling me against him.

After we remained quiet for a few minutes, he asked, “Are you not telling me because of what Williams said about me? Did I cause the nightmare?”

“Of course not.” I turned to face him, resting my arms on his bare chest. “The dream had nothing to do with you.”

But now that he’d brought it up—nope, this wasn’t the time to go there. My emotions were a hot mess, and I wasn’t thinking straight.

I dropped my head down and studied the buildings in the cityscape.

“Oh no, you don’t.” He threaded his fingers in my hair, tugging my head up. “I saw that look. What just passed through that beautiful mind of yours?”

Could I go there? And would knowing make things easier?

Yes, I needed to know. I had to ask.

Ever since I met Damon, I felt the heavy presence of the woman who’d once occupied the place I did now. I refused to be the third person in anyone’s relationship. My mother may have been fine with those terms, but the hell if I was.

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