Keep Me Safe(63)
Tori blinked, yanked from her thoughts as realization dawned that she and Dane were sitting on the floor beside her bed, the sheets and comforter in a tangle, barely hanging from the bed.
She suddenly felt very exposed and vulnerable and she hated that feeling more than anything. But neither did she want to freak out on Dane and drive home the fact that she was hanging on to her sanity by a single thread.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized in a low voice. “I didn’t mean to wake you. The vision—dream, whatever it was—scared me. It was so . . . real.”
“No apology is necessary.”
The interlude was over. Dane stood and extended a hand down to help her up. She pretended she didn’t see and turned to drag the sheet over her body to shield her from view.
“Will you be all right or do you want me to stay up with you? We can go in the living room if you’d prefer the brighter light.”
Her brows scrunched together and she shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Really. You should get back to bed. I’m sure you have a full day ahead of you tomorrow. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said after a brief pause.
He seemed to be studying her, perhaps to determine the veracity of her words. Evidently he was satisfied that she would truly be okay because he headed for the door.
Once there, he turned back, one hand on the knob.
“Sleep well, Tori. Try not to kill anyone in your dreams.”
Her mouth fell open in surprise when she saw the teasing glint to his eyes and heard the sardonic drawl in his voice.
Dane had a sense of humor. Who knew?
His eyes opened and he stared sightlessly at the ceiling. Without making a sound, he eased from the bed and walked robotically to the closet. With precise, measured movements he selected a pair of jeans, picked up one of his neatly pressed and folded polo shirts and quietly dressed in the dark.
A sense of alarm prickled down his spine but it was quickly stifled as he turned to walk back by the bed where Ramie lay sleeping. His gaze caught on Ramie and he hesitated a brief second before stumbling forward. A stabbing pain in his head caught him off guard. His jaw was tightly clenched and a nerve twitched in his cheek.
His steps reluctant, as though he were fighting a battle not to leave the room—not to leave Ramie—he walked haltingly into the hallway. Once he cleared the doorway, his steps became jerky, the distance from Ramie tugging him lesser and lesser until finally he moved with ease.
He descended the stairs, pausing at the bottom as he glanced furtively right and then left.
Quiet blanketed the house. It was eerily silent as he headed toward the audio/visual outpost next to the safe room where surveillance cameras monitored the grounds.
He punched in the security code to gain access through the sliding wood panel built into the wall. As soon as he was in he went straight to the bank of monitors on the far left side of the room.
His gaze flickered up and down and then settled on the monitor he was looking for.
An unwilling smile that felt all too wrong slashed his lips upward, making it more of a grimace than anything else.
Gotcha . . .
The word whispered through his mind followed by distant laughter and triumph.
His gut tightened and a sense of foreboding gripped his insides. The muscles in his neck twitched spasmodically. His eyelids drooped and then began to tic.
Wrong. All wrong. And yet he was powerless to do anything but obey the overwhelming compulsion that gripped him. His mind was not his own.
He was engaged in a battle of wills. One his own, buried beneath this . . . creature he didn’t recognize and hadn’t known existed, the other wrapping icy cold fingers around his heart. Sweat formed on his brow, his pulse thudding hard and fast in his neck. The silent tug-of-war over his level of consciousness raged, hard and strong.
He was being pulled in opposing directions. His heart raced, his breaths rapid-fire as sweat gleamed on his skin, visible in the low light of the monitors.
Pain seared through his chest as he finally turned his back to the damage he’d done. He left the security room as quietly as he’d entered.
Moments later he carefully undressed and arranged the clothing just as it were before. Then he slid back into bed with Ramie, carefully arranging the sheet and comforter over both their bodies.
A sense of dismay warred with the part of his subconscious that urged him to relish victory and fall into sleep.
His jaw tight to the point of pain, his pulse twitching in his neck and temples, his eyelids fluttered and then finally closed. Laughter once again sounded in the distance but then grew fainter and fainter before finally subsiding as Caleb drifted into a troubled sleep.
TWENTY-SIX
CALEB looked as though he hadn’t slept at all the night before. He’d been quiet and withdrawn ever since he and Ramie had gotten up. For that matter no one was setting the world on fire. Tension boiled in the kitchen, the silence yawning like a chasm.