Page 115 of Fractured Fate

“Alright. Call me if anything happens. If you need more, let me or Seth know.”

“Yeah. Thanks, man. And keep this from Riley.”

Lukas gave a stiff nod before turning and jogging down the paved walkway, disappearing into the night.

A scream tore him from the first peaceful sleep he’d had in days.

He untangled himself from the blanket wrapped around him and jumped up from the couch, running for Charlotte’s bedroom ready to rip the throat out of the asshole who dared to come into her home while he was there.

Throwing the door open so hard it stuck to the wall, he froze, chest heaving.

Charlotte lay on her bed, tangled in her bed covers, thrashing in her sleep. Her cries and whimpers echoed in his ears and hit his heart like a kick in the chest.

He crossed the room in three quick steps, then knelt on the bed and grabbed her shoulders.

“Charlotte! Charlotte, come on, it’s me!”

Her head thrashed from side to side as she clawed at his arms, tears running down her temples into her hairline.

“Wake up. I need you to wake up,” he said, trying to sound soothing, but he couldn’t mask the panic in his voice. He intimately understood the feeling of being imprisoned within one’s own mind; defenseless and unable to escape the malevolent forces that sought to harm.

Charlotte’s eyes flew open, but she stared up as if not quite back with him yet.

He lowered his forehead to hers and squeezed his eyes shut. “Come on, Kitten. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

She threw her arms around his shoulders and dragged his body down on top of her, taking all of his weight. Crying softly, she buried her face in his neck, clinging to him, taking deep drags of his scent into her lungs.

“That’s it. You’re okay. I’m here.”

She sniffled and let her arms fall from his shoulders after several minutes, allowing him to move to support himself on his elbow, still hovering over her in case she needed him again. “Don’t call me a kitten,” she said. Her words lacked heat, leading him to believe she didn’t wholly dislike it.

“Did I call you a kitten?”

“Yes,” she said, a pout on her face as if the name offended her sensibilities.

He brushed his thumb over her temples. “You remind me of one.”

Her eyes rolled, and she squirmed. He sat up, tucking his leg beneath him, placing one foot on the floor, allowing her to move into a sitting position.

“So, you want to tell me what that was about?”

“Just a nightmare.”

“Well, yeah. But what about?”

Her arms crossed beneath her chest, diverting his attention downward, revealing her choice of attire—a baggy T-shirt with no bra. The twisted covers, and her bare legs on display, made it obvious she wasn’t wearing sleep shorts. Was she wearing anything underneath? He shook his head.

“You won’t tell me about your nightmares, so why should I?”

He licked his lips, dragging his teeth over his lower lip before grinning. “You got me there, but come on. You scared the shit out of me.”

“It was the stalker. He tried to kill me.” She looked up into his eyes as hers welled with tears. “He had already killed you.”

“Well, that didn’t happen. I’m here.” He thumbed away a tear that tracked down her cheek. “I’m harder to take out than you’d think, Kitten.”

Her laugh sounded watery, and she sniffed. “Stop that.”

“What?” He tilted his head as if he didn’t understand, and she rose to the bait as expected. He wanted to make her forget about the nightmare.