I pushed the fluffy duvet off me and stepped toward his bed. He was lying on his stomach, probably to avoid putting pressure on his wounded back, and I could see the sweat trickling down his spine where the duvet had slipped down.
“Lucien,” I said, and when he still grunted and began to shudder as well, I said louder, “Lucien!”
But Lucien was apparently deep in sleep, in what seemed to be a panic-inducing nightmare. I recognized it for what it was, since I’d had those before too. The uncontrollable trembling and sweat, the grunts and the pain, feeling as if you were frozen, unable to move, forced to relive your worst memories.
I put my bare knee on the bed—I was sleeping in a baggy white shirt I often used as pajamas—and tapped his shoulder, feeling his skin was unnaturally hot. “Lucien, you’re having a nightmare,” I said in a strong, loud voice, trying to be heard over his pained cries.
It seemed my voice wasn’t enough, though, so with a deep breath, I climbed fully on the bed and grabbed his hard, hot shoulders firmly, digging my nails into his skin. “Wake up, Lucien!” I yelled now, trying to shake him, but he was like an unmovable rock. “Come on,wake up!”
One moment, I was trying to shake him awake, and the next, in a disorienting blur, he was out of the bed and on his feet on the other side of it, staring at me with arctic-blue eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness of the room, his chest heaving rapidly, his dark sweatpants sticking to his sweaty skin. His chest, in full sight, was perspiring as well.
I simply watched as he slowly registered what was happening and started regulating his breathing. He took a few deep breaths, wiping his sweaty forehead, and pushed his auburn curls back. After a few silent minutes, he finally breathed out a barely audible “Fuck.”
Seeing that he was better now, I asked, “Are you okay?”
He looked at me with a bewildered gaze and nodded. “Yes,” he said, voice rough from his grunts and yells. “Thank you for waking me up.”
“No worries,” I replied, frowning. “You should go take another shower before you return to bed. It’ll help you calm down.”
He nodded again, and without another glance, he walked to the bathroom and closed the door. I heard the shower start running, and I returned to my bed, heart still pounding from what had just happened.
I wondered what he’d dreamed about that made him go batshit crazy like this in his sleep. If it was a nightmare about a memory, like I assumed it was, I wondered what that memory could be.
Because ordinary sporadic nightmares normally didn’t cause such a reaction. This was something different. Trauma induced, I would even say.
Pulling the duvet over me, I closed my eyes and sighed. Whatever it was, it was none of my business, and I didn’t want to pry. If he wanted to share, he was more than welcome to, but I wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. Besides, I knew men were touchy about being vulnerable in front of others.
Or at least the men I knew were.
I tried to go back to sleep and give him space.
I heard the shower turning off, and a minute later, he walked out. I expected him to go back to his bed, but to my surprise he paused near mine and said quietly, in a now-clear voice, “Are you still awake?”
Tensing at the sudden question, I slowly sat up and said, “Yes.”
He was standing near the end of my bed, his gaze, even in the darkness, piercing mine. “Is it okay if I sleep in your bed tonight?” he suddenly asked.
I blinked a few times, trying to process the question.
Seeing I wasn’t responding, Lucien walked toward the side I was lying on and sat on my bed, much closer to me now. “When I slept next to you in my wolf form,” he said quietly, “it helped the nightmares go away.”
My heartbeat quickened as I remembered the night he spooned me in his wolf form. I’d had one of the best sleeps I’d ever had then, and it seemed he had liked it too.
But back then, I didn’t know he was a full-blooded, gorgeous Alpha male werewolf. This changed things.
“Please,” he croaked all of a sudden, his face obscured by the darkness but his eyes completely shattered. “Just tonight.”
The grief I’d seen earlier had returned to those eyes. Grief and even fear, as if he was terrified of dealing with whatever he was currently going through.
And when he looked at me like that, I could still see thewolfthat he was. The wounded wolf who’d put his trust in me, a stranger, to make him better.
So I found myself nodding, murmuring softly, “All right.”
He let out a breath. “Thank you,” he said just as softly and rounded the bed to climb in on the other side.
Once we were both under the duvet, I debated with myself whether I should ask or not until I finally caved and said, “Do you need me to touch you?”
I could tell he was surprised by my question without even looking at him. He was quiet for a few long seconds, during which my heartbeat escalated exponentially, until he finally said, “I appreciate it, Drew, but being close to another person is good enough.”