Page 192 of Ashborne: Defiance

I pushed up to sit, intending to throw myself out of the bed, but then realized I wore nothing but a thin cotton shirt that was sheer enough to show my nipples and Voski was right there.

I squeaked and grabbed at the blanket, pulling it up to cover my chest as he blinked awake, frowning, leaning up on one elbow, pushing back the hair that fell over his forehead—then went still.

His eyes snapped up to mine. “Grace? Did you have another nightmare?”

Only the one where you saw me naked because I lost my mind for a few hours and embarrassed myself like a child.

“No.”

He blew out a breath and let himself sink back to the pillow. “It’s okay if you did. It happens. Especially the first few weeks. But they will fade. Don’t worry.” He lay on his back, one hand resting on his chest, and his eyes—with bags, and dark circles under them—closed slowly. “Lay back down. Sleep again if you can.”

I gaped at him. Thrilled that he was there, and being kind. Terrified that he was there, and being kind.

Wondering what had happened the night before that I didn’t remember, because so much of it was a blur. But everything I could recall? Through all of it, he’d been there.

His eyes opened and he caught me staring at him. I snapped my head front, staring at the wall instead, swallowing hard.

My stomach was sick with dread, and dark memories of that alleyway kept skittering into the back of my mind. Noises. Smells.

I didn’t want to think about that.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, sitting up and putting a hand to my hair. “Just breathe and give yourself time. You’re safe, Grace. I promise.”

Swallowing hard, I stared at the base of the bed.

How would I ever face him again?

“Grace, can you hear me?”

“Of course I can hear you,” I whispered. “I’m just embarrassed.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

I snorted. It was something my mother abhorred. But my squad brothers did it constantly, and Bren quite often. It seemed appropriate just now.

He saw my body and he’s not my husband. Snort.

Nothing to be embarrassed about. Snort.

You’re safe. Snort.

I pulled the blankets tighter to my chest, but they didn’t want to move out from under his weight. Voski gave a little grunt, then sat all the way up, jerking the quilts out from under himself.

He was still fully clothed.

He’d washed me.

He was still clothed.

Oh, and I killed a man.

A vision of my hands, covered in blood, loomed in my head and my breath rushed out of me.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I asked tightly.

“Whatever you just thought about. Don’t.”