THE LAST FEW weeks created a drowning sense of exhaustion. Being with Nox, in his arms, was the haven I desired most. Totally spent, I expected to sleep for hours. I expected rest and rejuvenation. That wasn’t what either of us found. From the moment we finally closed our eyes, our rest was anything but peaceful.

Over and over dreams interrupted the serenity of Nox’s embrace. I’d wake, my body tossing and turning. Screams that were supposed to be hidden by the cloak of sleep became audible, echoing throughout the bedroom and waking us both. Perhaps it was the sense of security I had while with Nox. My mind told me that feeling safe shouldn’t bring out my fears, but it did. Each time my eyes closed, the floodgate opened, washing me away.

While in Savannah, I’d kept my personal concerns suppressed, concentrating on my momma and her health. Selfishly, lying in Nox’s arms, my night terrors weren’t about my mother. She was safe, as safe as she could be. The nurse promised that she was through the worst. After all, what could be worse than death?

Each time my eyes closed, the scenes were personal—much more personal.

Though Alton and Suzanna weren’t without blame, costarring as villains in my dreams—or were they nightmares?—their physical slaps were but blips on the radar compared to the fear evoked by Bryce. On Friday night at Montague Manor, he’d morphed before my eyes and now he was doing it again, this time in my sleep.

My childhood friend was gone. I saw him for the monster he was. Figurative claws became real as I surrendered to his tightening grip upon my knee. I shuddered, meeting his cold eyes as excruciating pain radiated from his vicious grasp. His smile chilled my blood as he looked toward his mother, forcing my lies of love and devotion.

Streaks of pain emitted through my nervous system until I’d wake, certain it wasn’t Nox beside me but Bryce. Even the millisecond of believing that Bryce was in my bed set my heart to hammering against my breastbone and accelerated my breathing.

The woodsy scent of Nox’s cologne mixed with the musk of our union would then lull me back to sleep until other scenes infiltrated my night.

The waves lapped the shore, creating a rhythm. The hand holding mine was strong and protective. I stared up at the light blue eyes as Nox and I strolled along the beach in Rye. My flat shoes morphed, their heels growing. I stumbled, each step more difficult as my shoes slid upon the pebbles. When I looked up from our intertwined fingers, the eyes were no longer swirled with love, but were infused with contempt.

As my heart again thundered, I tried to pull away from the now-iron grip. The scene had changed, erasing the beach as the song of waves faded into the mist and sadistic laughter rang in my ears. The laughter wasn’t for me, but for the other person with us. Bryce’s grip vibrated as he laughed at the desperation of his whore.

“Run,” I whispered to Chelsea. She couldn’t, paralyzed not by Bryce’s grip as I was, but by his stare.

I searched for the house, for Nox, or even Oren. They were gone. Chelsea, Bryce, and I were back in Chelsea’s room at Montague Manor. My stomach lurched at the whack of Bryce’s knuckles as his hand left mine and collided with Chelsea’s cheek. The sickening crack reverberated against the walls mere seconds before she crumpled to the floor.

I fell to the ground by her side, but the room was gone. My best friend was upon the floor, no longer in Savannah, but in our apartment in Palo Alto, her face battered. Though I reached for her, I wasn’t actually there; I was simply a bystander—a voyeur. My screams went unheard as a perpetrator rolled Chelsea’s body over and moved her hair from her face. His head shook as recognizable sadistic laughter only momentarily stalled his abuse. Just before resuming his attack, he muttered, “Wrong one.”

I woke with a start, knowing his voice. I’d known it all of my life.

Hugging the man I loved, I pushed the thoughts away. They weren’t real. They weren’t memories. I’d been in New York when Chelsea was attacked. I hadn’t seen it. It was my mind playing tricks on me.

She was safe, like my momma. Slowly, sleep resumed and so did the dreams.

Tension filled the Georgia night as my shoes slid upon the damp grass.

It wasn’t Chelsea paralyzed by Bryce’s cold eyes: it was me. I tried again to wake, to find Nox, but no one was near. Alton had gone to his office and Suzanna had bid us goodnight.

When had I looked to either of them for help? And yet in my desperation, I was.

Bryce’s words cut through the autumn air, his touch a jolt of dread diving deep to the pit of my stomach as my mind shifted from concern to panic. No longer in Rye, I was back in Savannah. What had I done? Why had I gone back?

The dread leached through me, from my stomach to my heart, and I knew what I hadn’t the time before. I knew that this time I couldn’t stop him.

“Darling, I’m getting off with you tonight, in your mouth, on your tits, or inside your cunt, I don’t care. It’s happening.”

The contents of my stomach lurched upward as I managed my reply, “Why?”

His initial response was without words, each answer turning my body to stone. Gentle at first, he brushed his thumb against my lips. The squeeze of my breast was harder, but it was the way he grabbed my core that registered as violation as well as pain. My heart thumped against my chest as his erection probed my stomach.

“Do you need to ask? You asked me to ‘take it out on you.’ Your wish is my command, darling. Over there, by the tennis courts… I’m going to take it out.”

His iron grip pulled me across the wet lawn. I pleaded, called out to Nox; I said no. I proclaimed and then begged. I reminded him of our childhood friendship while digging my heels into the grass. I silently pleaded with myself to wake.

Bryce’s voice was ice, freezing my will with the cold, hard reality. My pleas wouldn’t help me. They did the opposite, fueling his power and need for control. My childhood friend was a monster whose only concern was his own desire. He was a psychopath and his words were but the prelude to my future.

“Wrong,” he said. “You want it. Say you do.”

“Please, Bryce.”

“Close. Begging is acceptable. Now, tell me you want me to take you. No, tell me you want me to fuck you. Come on, darling. No, I know! Tell me that you want to fuck me and you’ll do it better than my whore.”

“No!” My shouts were no longer contained to my dreams. They echoed through the room, waking both Nox and me.

Nox pulled me close to his chest. The woodsy scent settled in my senses, replacing the aroma of the damp Savannah night air. With time, my breathing slowed as his steady heartbeat calmed my own. With both of us fully awake, he rolled me to my back. Hovering above me, he brushed his lips over mine. “I’m only going to ask you this once, but princess, I need you to be honest.”

Closing my eyes, I nodded. It hadn’t been our first awakening of the night. Nox wanted honesty. I’d give it, even if it meant he’d hate me.

“What’s your name?”

My eyes blinked at his strange question.

“Alexandria.”

He kissed my nose. “You’re my Charli and you always will be.”

His words washed through me, so simple and yet so poignant.

“Did he do more than kiss you?”

How to answer that? I took a deep breath and swallowed my tears. “Yes.”

Nox’s body hardened as every muscle tensed. In the dim morning light, the bulging vein in his forehead pulsated. His lips pressed together as emotion emanated from his every pore, momentarily souring the air between us. I tried to look away, but his contrasting tone kept my eyes on him.

“Was it consensual, more diversion, like the kiss?”

I shook my head and lowered my chin to my chest.

“Tell me.” The control he was exercising was waning.

With my face still hidden, I shook my head again. “He didn’t. We didn’t… sex.” More tears interrupted my words. “He threatened. I told him no, but… if…”

I shouldn’t have gotten in that car.

“If?” Nox encouraged.

“If I hadn’t gone with Alton…”

“That was done. What more? What if?”

“If it weren’t for Pat and Cy… showing up… Bryce said he would… he said he was going to… he threatened…”

Nox pulled me close. “Fucking bastard.”

“Do you hate me?” I asked. “I’m sorry…”

Nox rose to his elbows hovering above me, his eyes meeting mine, forcing our stare, our connection. I searched the blue for answers. What did I see? Anger and regret, yes, but also unquestionably love.

“Be sorry you got in that car,” his deep voice commanded. “Never do it again. Anything beyond that is not your fault. It’s not you who should be sorry. It’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t storm the damn castle sooner.” His volume rose. “Fuck Chelsea and your mom. If that makes me a monster, so be it. You are and will always be my biggest priority.

“I’m sorry you had to fight off that asshole by yourself. I’m sorry Pat was your savior when it should have been me. I’m sorry that douche bag is still walking the earth. As it is, he’s a dead man walking.

“No one and I mean no one should scare you like that.”

The tears were back, coating my cheeks as Nox kissed me again.

“And yet you asked me to make love to you last night?”

I nodded as my answer came in phrases. “I did and it felt right… I love you, Lennox Demetri… I don’t ever want to be with anyone else… I’m sorry I put myself—”

His finger touched my lips. “No more apologizing. I promised to punish you for getting in that car and putting the most important person in the world in danger. I promised that when we spoke on the phone. But,” he added, “not for anything else. There are others who will be punished. And I promise you, when I’m done, your ass will be sore, but others will be dead.”

“You’re not being literal, are you?”

“Yes, your ass will be sore.”

I shook my head. “Not about that.”

“Sleep. I’m here now. No more nightmares.”

I clung to Nox’s chest, allowing his woodsy scent and hard muscles to be my new blanket. Did I want Bryce dead? I couldn’t wish death on anyone, not even Alton. I wanted them both to suffer. I wanted them to get what they deserved for treating my mother and me the way they had. I wanted to be rid of them—forever.

Was that the same as wanting them dead?

As time passed, Nox’s breathing evened and I accepted his promises.

I didn’t fully understand the way he made me feel or the blind trust I had in him, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t real.

I wanted it. I craved it.

I craved the release that I knew would come with accepting his punishment, delivered not in anger, but in love.

I also understood that his punishment wouldn’t be for getting in the car, but for disobeying him, for breaking the promise I’d made to him—the promise to keep myself safe, the promise Jocelyn had also failed to keep. He’d punish me because I put the one person he loved in danger.

He’d be right. My nightmares confirmed it. I’d been in danger.