But the nightmare surged again, filling her mind with images and sensations, detailed and horrible. She screamed again and again, begging for someone to help her, drag him off and free her from the pain…
“Heather.” An authoritative voice cut through the nightmare and strong hands pinned her wrists above her head. “Wake up.”
She gasped and jerked against the restraining hands, twisting violently.
“It’s just a dream, angel. You’re safe now.” He shifted both her wrists into one hand and brushed the hair back from her face.
She was faceup now, unlike in her dream, still the memories consumed her. Unable to think through her terror, she whimpered and turned her face to the other side.
“It’s okay, love.” Jake’s familiar voice registered in her fear-muddled mind. He stroked her face again and gradually eased his hold on her arms. “You’re safe. Nothing will hurt you here.”
The tenderness in Jake’s touch and the compassion in his voice were in glaring contrast to the brutality of the nightmare. She stilled, sobbing quietly as the images released their hold and slipped back into the past. Pressing her lips together to hide their trembling, she slowly opened her eyes and turned her head back around.
Jake lay on his side and slipped one arm beneath her neck as he propped himself up on his elbow. He smiled but concern gleamed in his dark eyes. “Welcome back.”
Without conscious thought or moral debate, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against his chest. He shifted without pulling away, drawing her more fully into his embrace as he sat up. She clung to him, sobbing and shaking as her pent-up emotions demanded release. He rocked her, stroking her hair and back as he whispered words of comfort.
She was already emotionally raw. Why must the past torment her too?
Gradually the emotions receded and awareness returned. She sat on Jake’s lap, breasts crushed against his bare chest. His jeans felt rough beneath her bottom, accentuating the fact that she was naked below the waist. She eased away and blew out a shaky breath. It had been months since she’d dreamed of Carlos. Why had— Why wasn’t much of a mystery. Fear begat fear. Feeling helpless and out of control had taken her back to that horrible night.
“You okay now?” Jake continued to support her back but he moved his other hand to the bed beside him.
She crawled off his lap and sat facing him, legs folded in front of her. The baggy t-shirt covered her to mid-thigh, but she draped the sheet over her legs for good measure. Even with more distance between them, she was acutely aware that she was in bed with the man who frequently fueled her fantasies, a rebel and a cat, doubly forbidden.
His torso was bare. In fact his only garment was a pair of jeans that weren’t even zipped up all the way. He’d obviously dressed in a hurry, likely when he’d heard her scream.
“I’m fine,” she whispered, but she blinked furiously in a vain attempt to hold back more tears. She didn’t want to cry anymore. She needed to think, decide how to proceed, not blubber like a baby.
“You don’t look fine.” He tossed a couple of pillows against the headboard then scooted back against them. “Come here.” He opened his arms and she returned to his embrace as if it were the most natural thing on earth. He was warm and strong, yet surprisingly gentle. His arms wrapped around her loosely, supporting without restraining. “Talk to me. What were you dreaming about? Were you reliving tonight?”
He’d given her the perfect explanation for her fear but she couldn’t bring herself to speak the lie. She was tired of lies, tired of arranging her life according to the wishes of others. Instead she shook her head and splayed her fingers against his chest.
“Then what happened? Dreams have less power over us when we drag them into the light of day.”
It was a charming sentiment but this particular dream had haunted her for the past six years. “My definition.” She shuddered. “I was reliving my definition.”
He eased her back until she looked into his eyes. “Transformation can be frightening and intense the first few times, but you seemed to be fighting off some sort of attack.”
“My definition wasn’t…traditional.” Or complete. But he didn’t need to know that. Undefined females were vulnerable and weak. That’s why she’d lied about the outcome, even to her own family.
His body tensed beneath her hand and his gaze narrowed. “Meaning?”
Why was she telling him any of this? He couldn’t change what happened and admitting what she’d suffered made her seem pathetic, a victim. A freak.
“It doesn’t matter.” She tried to scoot away from him but his arms flexed. He didn’t pull her closer but he didn’t let go. “It was six years ago.”