His jaw clenches tightly. I watch a muscle tick rhythmically in his cheek, and I know he feels it too; the undeniable attraction that’s always dragging us toward each other, even when we’re totally at odds. Even when we hate each other.
Magnets.
“Emilia—”
“I’m fine,” I cut him off before he says something that’ll make it harder to maintain the cool mask of composure I’ve been wearing around him for the past few weeks. “Really. You can let go of me, now.”
His hands fall away like I’ve scalded him.
With considerable effort, I drop my gaze and look down at the bedspread. My legs are still tangled in the sheets, evidence of the battle waged with my unconscious mind. I pull them free and curl my knees up to my chest, scooting back against the headboard to create some much-needed space between us.
I think he’s going to leave without another word but, to my great surprise, he stays. There’s a long silence. When he finally breaks it, his voice is carefully empty.
“You were screaming.”
I bite my lip.
“Not just a few small sounds of distress, like it used to be. This sounded like…” He blows out a breath. “Like someone was in here murdering you.”
“I…” Trailing off, I swallow hard. I can’t contradict him. He’s right. I can still feel the rawness at the back of my throat from the ragged wailing session.
My gaze darts up to his and for the first time, I notice how exhausted he looks. Not from a singular sleepless night, butmany. The dark circles under his eyes are a perfect match for my own. Evidently, I’m not the only one my night terrors have been keeping awake, these past few weeks. Shame stirs inside me.
“Carter, I’m… I’m sorry…”
He clears his throat with a rough sound. “The nightmares. They’re getting worse.”
I nod.
“What was this one about?”
“The same thing they’realwaysabout.”
His brows lift.
“The coronation. I was… reliving it. The champagne. The blood. Linus…”
He stares at me, not speaking, so I continue.
“In the dream, he dies in my arms. Every time. I don’t understand why I dream he’s dead. The doctors revived him. He’salive. I know he’s alive. But every time I close my damn eyes…” I shake my head, suddenly fighting tears. “I think there’s something wrong with me. Maybe I’m going crazy.”
“Hey. Look at me.”
I do.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” His eyes are intent on mine. “It’s this fucking place — this whole fuckingworld— that’s crazy. Not you.”
Is Carter Thorne really being kind to me?
Kindness from him is such a rarity. It’s enough to make my heart skip a beat.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip to contain the words I’m afraid to speak. I want nothing more than to hurl my body forward, into his arms. To find solace against the smooth planes of his strong chest, soaking up his heat until the shadows of my mind are chased away.
But I can’t.
If he sees the sudden longing in my eyes, Carter doesn’t comment on it. But his jaw clenches tighter and his strong hands curl around the thick fabric of my bedspread, as though he’s fighting for control.
“You should probably go,” I force myself to say, hating every treacherous syllable.
“Right. We wouldn’t want any of the castle staff getting the wrong idea about what I’m doing in your bedchambers in the middle of the night.”
I flinch back at his suddenly caustic tone. “Carter, you know that’s not what I meant—”
“Don’t worry about it.” He’s already halfway to the door, his angry strides illuminated by the moonlight spilling in through the glass wall of my terrace. “Next time, I’ll let you scream.”
My door slams loud enough to rattle the paintings on the wall, leaving me alone in the dark once more with only my nightmares for company.