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The chills that went up his spine turned to daggers of fear. He didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but he had heard enough about her over the years that he couldn’t ignore it.
He grimaced painfully, then stepped back into his room and closed and locked his door, before striding to the door that connected to Dawn’s room. And, of course, it was unlocked. She could lock the hall door, but she just had to leave this one unlocked.
He stepped into the dark room, not certain what to expect, but he wasn’t expecting what met his eyes. She lay on her bed, stiff and still, her breathing harsh and heavy as small, terrified mewls left her lips. She was sweating heavily, her body jerking.
And something broke inside him, because he knew where she was, he knew what dreams had stolen her and why Cassie was so concerned now.
“Dawn,” he whispered her name as he moved to the side of the bed and sat down warily.
He didn’t want to frighten her, didn’t want to make the nightmares worse. But God damn it if he could stand to see her this way.
“Dawn, baby, wake up.” He reached out and realized his hand was shaking as he touched her hair then and had to clench his hands to keep from shaking her.
“Oh God. Oh God. Oh please God…save me…save me…” The words whispered from her lips; desperate, guttural, tight, pain-filled sighs, a breath of sound, nothing more.
“Dawn! Wake up!” he snapped, raising his voice, suddenly terrified.
Her eyes flew open. She stared at the ceiling, her breathing harsh, her pupils dilated and she jerked as though attempting to free herself.
It hurt him to watch her try to breathe, hurt him to see her gasping for air. He reached out and gripped her shoulders, unable to stop, breaking apart inside at the fear on her face, and pulled her to his chest.
“Dawn, please, baby. Please wake up.” He held her head to his chest, his head bent over hers, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to kill. He wanted to spill the blood of the bastards who had dared to hurt her this way.
“I’m okay.” Her voice was ragged, tearing past her throat in rough growls as her hands jerked up and gripped his forearms. “Get away from me.” She shuddered, shook as though freezing. “I’m okay.”
But he wasn’t. He buried his face in her hair and held on to her. He couldn’t let her go. God help him. The feel of her against him, in his arms, against his chest—that was all he wanted. Right now, just this.
“Did I scream?” Panic filled her voice now as she began to shake harder. “Please, did I scream?”
Seth shook his head. “No. No, Dawn, you didn’t scream.”
No scream could have been as tragic, as desperate as those frightened mewls, that desperate, whispered prayer that had fallen from her lips.
“I’m okay then.” She shook off the nightmare with an ease that left him in shock. Her muscles lost their tension, and she relaxed in his embrace, breathing out softly. “Don’t let me go yet.”
Let her go? Coyotes couldn’t pry his arms away from her right now.
“I’ve dreamed of this.” She sighed against his chest, her nails kneading at the material of his shirt as she shifted from fear to sensuality.
Seth gritted his teeth, and he tried to unlock his arms from around her. He tried to let her go. She was awake now, she would be okay, surely to God she would.
He had never known torture like he knew it now. He remembered once, when he had been captured during a mission in his years in the military. One time, and the bastards had spent two days torturing him. That was nothing compared to this. The pain of holding her, the arousal building in his body like a fever, and feeling her slide against him.
“It’s another dream, isn’t it?” she whispered. “I like these dreams. They don’t hurt.” Her lips touched his flesh where the shirt parted and he swore flames sizzled against the sweat he could feel building there.
“Let me dream a little longer.” She pulled at the material of his shirt. “I hate it when you go away. When the dream just fades, right before I know what it’s supposed to feel like.”
He closed his eyes, his palms flat against the light, thin T-shirt she wore to sleep in. He could feel her flesh through it, damp, heated, her muscles relaxing beneath the fingers that pressed against her.
“Dawn,” he whispered against her hair. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“It’s just a dream.” Her teeth scraped over his chest, those sharp little canines pausing to bite.
And he let her. He let out a hard, desperate groan as her lips moved up his chest to his neck. She licked and his heart almost burst from the pleasure. Then those sharp little canines raked over the flesh at the base of his neck, and she bit down.
“Shit!” His hand jerked to the back of her head and he had every intention of pulling her back.
Instead, glutton that he was, he pushed her closer and tilted his head for her, let her have her way. Let her tongue lick and stroke as heat seemed to sink clear to the vein that throbbed beneath her lips. He would have let her tear his throat out if she wanted to, he realized.
