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Pale as death, her arms thrashing with fists clenched, Caera stared up at him with eyes wide and blind. Sweat was soaking through her clothes, and he could see the pulse in her throat bounding like a deer being chased by hounds.
These were not nightmares, he thought furiously. They were fucking night terrors. Not something he was equipped to handle, Saul knew as dread curled in his gut. This was something he couldn’t wake her from, not without causing one of them some harm. He couldn’t rouse her with gentle words and light pats on the cheek.
When she screamed, he winced. The woman had a pair of lungs on her, no question. He had no choice but to take action when she started clawing at herself, her nails biting into the pale skin at her throat and chest—he couldn’t just sit back and wait for her to wake of her own accord.
Straddling her as quickly and quietly as he could manage, Saul used his knees to restrain her hips. Her wrists were cuffed in his hands, and he had to fight against her demons to pull her fingers away from her torso. For someone so slight, she was ridiculously strong in her desperation. He cursed ripely when he saw blood starting to well in the grooves she’d sliced into her own flesh, then flattened her hands to the pillow beside her head.
“This is not how I wanted the first night to go, Caera.” Saul muttered grimly. “You need to snap out of it now. Come on back to me, little rabbit.”
No response. Whatever she fought against in her head had sucked her in too deep. Her breathing grew harsher, deeper, until she almost grunted with the effort to draw in air.
Saul cursed again and, releasing one of her hands, slapped her hard across the face. Hard enough to leave a stark red imprint on her cheek. Self-disgust surged through him. Striking a woman did not sit well with him even under these circumstances.
She arched and grunted beneath him, almost bucking him off. It was hard to know what to do when she was so fragile, when the wrong pressure could result in breaking bones, but he needed her to snap out of this.
He slapped her again.
Caera stiffened. That horrible blank look in her eyes remained as some part of her focused on him. Her voice was ten kinds of wrong when she asked, “Who are you?”
Oh boy. “Just take a minute, and catch your breath, relax. It will come back to you.” He kept her pinned as her eyes searched his face suspiciously. The tension rose in her like a tsunami, threatening to become uncontrollable and deadly. “We met earlier, remember?”
The green gaze darkened. “I don’t know you.”
“You do, just not very well yet.” Testing out a theory, Saul asked, “Who are you?”
“They call me Caera.” There was a childlike edge to her voice, but it was sharp. Like a kid who’d grown up way too fast and been forced into adulthood. It was fucking creepy. “I’m not supposed to tell you that.”
“You can tell me anything you want to. How old are you?”
“Eight.” Caera sucked in a trembling breath, and something switched in her. He saw it flash in the green, then she relaxed enough to close her eyes as though telling him was a weight off her shoulders. She stayed unresponsive for a few minutes, long enough for Saul to worry she’d been drawn back under, but when she opened them again, she seemed to be back to normal.
He watched her absorb their positions, the way he held her down. Her face twisted into a mask of pain as she looked at the bloody mess she’d made of herself, then tears slid down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Saul.”
“What are you apologizing for?” Satisfied she wouldn’t gouge his eyes out, he released his hold on her wrists and stroked the marks he’d left on her cheek. “You’ve done nothing wrong, little rabbit.”
“For…for this. For everything. They shouldn’t have sent me here, shouldn’t have sent you here to babysit me. You’re not prepared…Jesus, I’m still not prepared for this.” She shook her head, more tears falling. “No one deserves to go through this hell with me.”
“Somehow, I doubt you’ve done anything to deserve it, either.” Swinging his leg over her, Saul shifted until he sat beside her instead of on top of her. “Do you remember anything that happens during the night terrors, Caera?”
She shuddered. “Imprints, outlines. They don’t last long, they’re just ghosts. Why aren’t you running away from me, driving back to the city as fast as you can?”
Saul sighed and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. He could no more abandon her than he could steal candy from a fucking baby. Understanding the true extent of her problem—or at least, a portion of it—locked him into Connie’s crazy scheme more securely than cement. “Because you need someone to rely on, little rabbit. There’s only so long you can stay alone with this level of pain before it kills you.”
“Don’t say that like it’s a bad thing.” Caera lifted her hands to her face and scrubbed the tears off her cheeks, her breath hitching. “Dying isn’t the world’s biggest evil. It shouldn’t be a sin to know when you’ve reached the end of the line and do something about it.”
Anger coursed through his blood, hand in hand with sympathy. His hand lashed out and collared her throat without pressure—the gesture was enough to have her attention centering on him. “The sin is not fighting, Caera. It’s rolling over and admitting defeat when you’ve got years of living ahead of you. Death is absolutely a last resort, and you are not there yet. I won’t let you reach that point.”
Her expression was hauntingly sad as she set her hand on his wrist. Not to remove his grip from her throat, but just for human contact. Her smile was mournful. “I’m afraid you’re several months too late to prevent it. I’m so tired, Saul. All the damn time.”
“I know. I won’t say I understand, because I haven’t gone through it. But I am going to help you, Caera. We can pull you back from the edge if that’s what you want.” Saul sighed, letting go of her and exchanging that slender neck for her fingers, linking his and hers together. “It’s late, little rabbit. I’m going to clean you up, and tomorrow we can talk about this without the night terror lurking at your back. Why don’t you get yourself comfortable and close your eyes, try to catch some more sleep if you can.”
“No. No, not again.” The fear in her voice made him bristle protectively. He wanted to kill whoever had triggered the terrors, reducing her into this fearful wreck. “I can’t go back there again.”
She could and she would, but he had to settle her down again first. Clambering off the bed, Saul rounded the footboard and back to her side, fully aware of her eyes nervously tracking his every move.
“Come here.” It was an order; he couldn’t help it. The Dominant side of him was aware his submissive needed his attention and aftercare, and he was committed to giving her everything she needed.
