Riona would do just fine in the military. Her books are lined up with soldier-like precision. I couldn’t find a speck of dust with a hundred white gloves. Even her remote is set at a perfect ninety-degree angle on the television stand.
All that order makes me wonder. In my experience, when somebody clings that tightly to a sense of control, it’s because something happened to them at some point in their lives that made them feel powerless.
I think of Riona describing Luke Barker and how he got “handsy” with her at the Christmas party. Her voice was as calm as ever. But I don’t feel calm, thinking about it. I feel a stab of something very like anger. I want to put Luke at the top of my list of people I plan to talk to.
I lay out a crisp, clean sheet on top of the sofa to protect the cushions. Then I lay down and slip into a light slumber. A soldier’s sleep—the kind you wake from easily.
Riona’s scream jolts me right off the couch.
Before my eyes are even open, I’ve jumped up and I’m running to her room.
I rip open her door and flip on the light.
She’s tangled up in her sheets, ripping and clawing at them where they’re wrapped around her throat.
I pull her out of the bedding, wrapping her up in my arms instead. She’s only wearing a light silk camisole and shorts, and she’s shivering, from cold or from fear.
“Shh,” I tell her. “It’s alright. I’m here.”
Embarrassed, she tries to pull away from me. But I keep my arms around her, pulling her against my chest. I can feel her heart hammering away against my bare skin, and her slim frame shaking.
“I thought I was drowning,” she gasps out.
Again I feel that flood of anger that a man put his hands on this woman. Riona is desperate to seem strong and independent. But the truth is she’s fragile in the way that all women are fragile—smaller than men, and vulnerable to violence.
I have a sister. I’d fucking kill anyone who tried to touch her.
And I feel that same drive to protect Riona. To keep her safe. Not just because Dante asked me to. Because she needs it. She needs my help.
“I’m here,” I tell her again. “No one’s going to hurt you.”
I can feel her heart beating wildly against my forearm. It feels like a bird caught in a cage, struggling to get out. Riona’s whole body is shaking.
But after a minute, she stops fighting and she sinks down against my chest, allowing me to hold her. Allowing me to warm her with my arms, so her shivering stops.
I don’t think she’d ever allow this, if she weren’t exhausted and terrified. In fact, she’ll probably be embarrassed in the morning.
But right now, she accepts my comfort.
I hold her like that for almost an hour, until her body goes heavy and warm with sleep.
7
Riona
I wake up alone in my bed with the sunshine streaming in through my window.
I slept in late, which is strange for me.
I can hear the clinking sound of somebody moving around in my kitchen. I realize it’s Raylan, and I remember how I woke up screaming in the night.
My face burns, knowing what a fool I made of myself. Screaming like a little kid with a nightmare.
He had to come in and hold me, like I was five years old.
I hate that he saw me like that. Weak and vulnerable.
On the other hand, the memory of the dream is still fresh in my mind. I was swimming, but not in the clean, bright rooftop pool. It was night, and I was swimming in a huge, dark lake. My hands looked ghostly white in the black water.
Something grabbed me from below and dragged me down. I could see the reflection of the moon up on the surface, growing tiny like a pinprick of light as I sank down, down. The water was freezing cold and pitch dark. The thing that had hold of me was monstrously large. It grabbed me with a dozen tentacles that squeezed all around my body—around my arms, legs, chest, and throat. It kept pulling me down no matter how hard I fought. And when I finally had to gasp for breath, cold water flooded my lungs.
I woke up tearing at the sheets that had wrapped tight around my body. I heard someone screaming and it took me way too long to realize it was me. I touched my