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The look on her face had made him crack up.
But also, he thought he’d seen a hint of heat. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking since he’d been pretty turned-on at the idea of gagging her.
Tying her up. Stripping her naked. Fucking her.
Urgh.
“I don’t think she’s sleeping that well, though. She’s not the best sleeper anyway. She wakes up easily.” She’d never been a good sleeper. Not since she was a kid . . . but he thought she’d gotten worse lately.
And he was worried that it might be his fault because he kept waking her with his nightmares.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Loki demanded. “Why are you asking me if she’s having nightmares?”
Remy ran his hand down his face, looking tired. “I want to tell you, but it’s not my place. You need to ask her to explain everything that happened that night, though. I mean, I’m certain it was just a one-off thing . . . it isn’t something she should keep to herself. Especially if she’s having panic attacks and is still unable to drive. She might need to talk to someone.”
What the fuck?
Talk to someone? What had actually happened?
Anger filled Loki, but he tried to tamp it down. Losing his cool right now was not going to help anyone.
“So you think whatever she didn’t tell me is making her panic over the idea of driving? And maybe giving her nightmares?”
“Yeah, and there’s something else,” Remy said grimly. “The brat made me think she was going to come clean. Which is part of the reason why I didn’t tell you. However, I’m realizing I should have pressed her again to make sure she did that.”
Spinning around, Loki strode down the corridor with one thought on his mind.
“Hey? Hey, where are you going?” Remy called out.
“You. Come.” Holding up his hand, he snapped his fingers at Remy. However, he was focused on his task.
Find Isa. Demand she tell him everything.
Then fix whatever the fuck was wrong.
A hand landed on his arm and Loki’s heart started pounding. He spun around, but he didn’t see Remy standing behind him.
No, his body surged into fight or flight mode. Adrenaline pumped through him and his reality faded, inserting him into a memory.
Insurgents.
Blasts of gun fire.
Men yelling. Screaming.
His friends dying.
“Loki!”
They needed him. Sweat coated his forehead as his heart raced. There was a ringing in his ears. Background noise he had to ignore. Kill this insurgent.
Get to his friends.
Save them.
“It’s Remy. You’re not there, Loki. Not there. You’re in Wishingbone.”
Wishingbone? No. His girl was in Wishingbone. How did this bastard know where he came from? Did he know about his Tink? He had to keep her safe.
