The dream came again.

It was more intense.

It was more…real.

Isabel was in the car, and the world burned around us. Even though I knew I’d never be able to move, I tried to move my feet—and I did. One foot moved. Then the other.

I wasn’t able to go any farther, though, because slim arms clamped around me from behind.

It wasn’t Cormac. I was used to fighting that bastard off in my dreams, or trying to, but these soft, slim arms didn’t belong to him.

I caught a hint of a familiar scent, something delicate and light…lavender, I realized.

A scream tore the air.

“Isabel!” I tried to tear away from the arms restraining me but couldn’t. They simply tightened and held me in place.

Isabel stared at me through the windshield of the car, clawing at the door, crying out my name, desperate to get out.

I tried to break free of the hold around my waist.

“I have to get to her!” I shouted. I couldn’t turn around and look at my captor. I couldn’t make myself. A weight in my chest wouldn’t let me. Maybe that weight was part of why I couldn’t move—that weight was like a ten-ton stone, immobilizing me.

And in front of me, while I watched helplessly, Isabel burned.

“Isabel…”

“Sean, wake up!”

I jerked upright.

Sweat drenched me. Soft, strong hands shook me. Silvery light shone in through the window, spilling onto the bed to illuminate Tish’s face. She stared at me with a mix of worry and fear. Her eyes were huge in her face, and she reached up, brushed her fingers down my cheek. “You were having a nightmare.”

I caught her hand and pressed it to my cheek, my breath coming in hard, ragged bursts.

Each one hurt my chest, my throat.

Even the ragged rhythm of my heartbeat seemed painful, slamming into my ribs like the damned organ was wrapped in razor wire, and every time it pulsed inside my chest, that wire dug a little deeper into the already battered, bruised, and bleeding flesh.

Tish swayed on the bed, then rolled forward onto her knees, reaching up to cup my face between both hands, guiding my head around until I was looking at her.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently.

The concern in her voice was soft. She was sweet and kind, and I wanted to collapse forward, rest my head in her lap. She’d let me. I bet she’d even stroke those slim, capable fingers through my hair until I fell back asleep.

I couldn’t force myself to speak. I needed to. I couldn’t just sit there with that dream burning like acid in me. But no words would come.

Tish slid her hands down and stroked my arms. “It’s okay,” she said as a shudder rocked me. “It was just a dream.”

It wasn’t, though.

Not entirely.

My muscles went rigid. I felt brittle, like the wrong move would break me. Swallowing the bile building up in my throat, I pulled away and slid from the bed. Cool air kissed my bare skin, and I looked down. Abruptly, shame slid through me, and I stormed over to my dresser. Jerking open a drawer, I dragged a pair of joggers out and pulled them on. I turned to see Tish slipping the blanket up, concealing slim, beautiful curves.

I was still fumbling with some way to talk to her, to say something when she asked in the softest of tones, “Who’s Isabel?”

I went rigid.

Tish stared at me solemnly, her face lit only by moonlight. “You said her name twice while I was trying to wake you. It took nearly five minutes it seemed. You were thrashing around and fighting…you sounded terrified. And when you said her name that last time…” She shivered a little, then wrapped her arms around herself. “Who is she, Sean?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I snapped, glaring at her.

She flinched.

Guilt was already sinking jagged claws into me, and the sight of blood draining from her face made it worse, but I didn’t apologize. I wouldn’t let myself.

This had been a mistake.

Fucking some random stranger was one thing.

But that wasn’t what this had been.

“We’re done,” I said shortly, bending over to grab her clothes. I tossed them onto the bed next to her. “You should go back to your room.”

I braced myself for her reaction.

Tish blinked slowly, then slid from the bed, gathering up the jeans, shirt, and undergarments I’d tossed at her. “Bathroom’s over there,” I said, jerking my chin toward the door.

But she ignored me, walking naked past me into the hall.

I scowled at her and followed, even though I told myself it didn’t matter. Nobody was there, and even if they were, it was her naked ass she was putting on display.

That wasn’t what bothered me, though.

It was the sheer emptiness of her expression. Her face was as blank as a doll’s.

I hated myself a little bit more, and that shouldn’t have been possible.

But I didn’t say anything, and I didn’t try to stop her.