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It wasn’t cold here, though. The warmth that was wrapped around her stayed, like a pocket of soul-deep comfort amid the terror and icy chill.
“It was just a dream. This is all a dream, Zoey,” her fantasy whispered, his voice soothing, filled with the latent hunger she’d heard in it the night they danced. “It was a terrible, horrible nightmare, Zoey . . . It’s all okay. Remember, it’s all okay. You just had a terrible dream.”
The pain in her skull slowly eased. It wasn’t gone, but it eased. It wasn’t so deep or so agonizing. But she didn’t want to think yet. She didn’t want to remember yet.
“Zoey, Harley didn’t hurt you. You didn’t kill Harley. He’s fine.”
No, it wasn’t just a nightmare.
“Don’t let Natches kill me. I’m so scared. It was real. I know it was real.”
“It was a dream.” This time, her fantasy lover’s voice was so powerful and filled with demand, surrounding her, even on the inside, with a heat that began to melt the ice trying to overtake her. “This is just a nightmare. Nothing more.”
The sound of his voice pulled at her, drew her as it always did in her dreams, making her want to wrap it around her and hold him to her forever.
She could barely hear him, actually had to strain to make the words out, but the throb of power and the determined male force behind it was clearly apparent.
“You’re safe, Zoey. You’re safe. Harley’s safe. This is just a terrible, terrible nightmare.”
She couldn’t deny him. She didn’t want to deny him.
A nightmare.
A terrible dream.
It was more than that and she knew it. There had to be more to it. But she couldn’t make the voice understand . . .
“Zoey, do you hear me?” The dark, intently male voice pulled at her senses now as it always did. But only in her dreams. He was only in her dreams, because he’d left and he hadn’t come back after dancing with her.
She only knew this voice in her fantasies, and it soothed her, protect
ed her without smothering her.
“Answer me, Zoey. Do you hear me?”
His voice was so strong. It wrapped around her and reminded her of the fantasies that filled her dreams. Fantasies of him. The knight who rescued the maiden, the tough warrior who fought side by side with the sorceress. The dream image of the lover who hadn’t yet become a lover.
“I’m scared . . .” She couldn’t wake up, she didn’t want to wake up, not yet. Not until something made sense. Nothing made any sense. “I’m so scared . . .”
“Don’t be scared anymore, Zoey.” Warm, callused fingertips eased from her temple to her jaw. “Listen to me, and everything will be okay. Do you understand me?”
The voice touched her with pure, raw power. It was so strong. Strong enough to hurt . . .
She whimpered at the thought. She didn’t want to hurt anymore. But she had to fight. And fighting it just made the pain worse. She had to remember everything. The strange voice and Harley’s face flickering with a darker, crueler face. Sam whispering something, then yelling at someone. And now her dream lover.
She had to remember.
Pain lanced at her head, ripping through it with such agony she wanted to scream. Oh God, it hurt so bad.
“Zoey?” he whispered again, his voice so low she had to strain to hear him. “You have to listen to me so the pain will go away. I can make it all go away, but you have to listen to me.”
He was holding her hand, palm turned up as he stroked the skin of her inner arm to the crook of her elbow. There, he massaged the skin, eased the joint. She felt something tighten, and then finally, blessedly, the agony in her head eased a little more.
“See, I’m going to make it better. Trust me, Zoey. Trust me to make it better,” he told her in that deep, rasping whisper she could barely hear. “To always take the pain away. I’ll take it all away.”
Just trust him. That was all she had to do was trust him.
The nightmare would go away then.
