by Paige Tyler
A part of her recognized that her claws were out. Her fangs, too.
“This isn’t real,” she murmured, tears pouring down her face. She didn’t care if the clown heard her. “You’re having a breakdown. This is just a hallucination. You’re going to open your eyes and this will all be gone.”
The laughter suddenly ceased and was replaced with a slow, soft chuckle that was ten times worse.
“I already told you this is real,” the voice whispered as the demented chuckles continued. “As real as our first meeting in that graveyard. Only this time, things will end with you bleeding to death at my feet.”
With a sob, Rachel scrambled to her feet and fled the kitchen at warp speed. She should have run for the door, but her inner werewolf took over and pointed her toward the bedroom—and the weapons in there. Though what the hell she was supposed to shoot was beyond her.
“Run, little wolf.” The clown’s leering grin mocked her as she sped past her dresser and the large mirror attached to the top of it.
Rachel ignored the taunting voice, slowing long enough to wrap her claw-tipped fingers around the mirror atop the dresser, ripping it off with a growl and slinging it out the bedroom door and into the living room, where it smashed into pieces.
Scrambling for the nightstand, she grabbed the .380 she’d left on the top, then yanked open the top draw and grabbed her Sig. Somehow, she ended up in bed, back against the headboard, handguns pointed in two different directions, steady despite the terror tearing through her like a storm.
“You can’t run and you can’t hide,” the voice said, the deep sound seeming to fill the very air around her. “You’ll never be free until I’m done with you, and by then, you’ll be begging for me to end it all.”
Rachel screamed so loud and so hard it felt like her vocal cords were being ripped out. The laughter continued no matter how much she begged the monster to leave her alone. A little voice inside told her to get the phone and call her pack for help. But the thought of getting off the bed and going into any part of her apartment that might have a reflective surface terrorized her so much her body refused to even consider it.
So instead, she sat there on her bed, hugging her knees, weapons in both hands, sobbing uncontrollably as endless waves of fear washed through her body.
* * *
Knox grinned as he guided his motorcycle across town. A little while ago, he’d driven Ben home in one of the DAPS vehicles. It had been interesting, to say the least. He’d expected to spend the time talking to Ben about how to excavate his butt out of Addy’s friend zone, but instead, the kid had used the entire drive attempting to convince Knox that he had a legitimate shot at getting Officer Bennett to be his girlfriend. Knox would have laughed if it wouldn’t have hurt the boy’s feelings.
So, he’d bitten his tongue, nodded his head at the appropriate moments, and agreed he’d give it a shot. As soon as an opportunity presented itself, he’d let Rachel know he was interested in her.
“You shouldn’t wait,” Ben told him firmly, his face far more serious than a sixteen-year-old kid should ever be. “I waited around and look where it got me. Addy could have gotten hurt. Heck, she could have died. You should go see Officer Bennett tonight.”
Knox pointed out it wasn’t quite that dramatic for him and Rachel. She wasn’t in danger. Besides, it would be well after midnight by the time he got to her place. She’d be asleep and wouldn’t be thrilled to have him show up on her doorstep.
“You really sure about that?” Ben asked.
“What part?” Knox wanted to know.
“Any of it,” Ben said, sounding wise beyond his years.
After dropping off the teenage Yoda, Knox had gone home, changed clothes, then jumped on his bike, headed for Rachel’s place. He had no idea what the hell he was going to say when he got there. But something inside—maybe his inner werewolf—told him this was the right thing to do. Given his track record of decision-making as of late, he was slightly leery of this approach, but he hoped if he let his wolf make the call, the outcome would be better this time.
He thought the ride over in the cold night air would clear his head and help him come up with a clever reason why he was showing up at Rachel’s place. Unfortunately, by the time he pulled to a stop in an empty space in front of her apartment complex, he was still at a loss.
Killing the engine, he climbed off the bike and took off his helmet, leaving it on the seat, then walked into the building. As he took the stairs up to her floor, he tried to come up with a plan.
The first thing to do was knock on her door, of course. But what would he say when she opened it? Especially if she was pissed about him waking her up. Did he charge in boldly and admit how much he’d enjoyed the kiss they’d shared? Or should he slip into the situation a little more smoothly, maybe say he wanted to make sure she was okay after tracking Addy and Aaron through the school? Because he was pretty sure that red glow in her eyes meant she’d lost time again.
He was still trying out different variants of are you okay when he heard what sounded like whimpering from somewhere on the second floor.
Rachel.
He didn’t know how he knew it was her, but he did. She was in trouble.
Knox took the last five steps in a single leap, claws and fangs extending as he raced down the hall. He was grateful that it was so late and there was no one around to see him. Not that he cared if there was. Rachel needed him and he’d do anything—face anything—to get to her.
The whimper turned into screams before he was even halfway to her door. Didn’t anyone else hear them? But then he remembered her saying she had nightmares a lot. Maybe her neighbors had gotten used to it.
Knox didn’t slow as he approached her door, instead lowering his shoulder and slamming through it at full speed. He’d thought he’d take the whole thing down, but the door swung open, dumping him into the middle of a war zone.
Pieces of wood and shattered glass from a mirror covered the living room floor, as if something had exploded. But before he could even consider how all of that crap had gotten there, another scream from the bedroom ripped through the apartment. He kicked the door closed behind him without thinking, then pulled his Glock from his holster and headed for the bedroom, expecting the worst.
He looked left and right as he stepped into the bedroom, finger poised on the trigger of his weapon, preparing himself for absolute carnage. But as he swept the room, he found it was empty except for Rachel. She was sitting with her back against the headboard, looking terrified. Even though he was standing right in front of her, it was like she didn’t see him.
Rachel was dressed in a long T-shirt, her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her head like she was trying to shield her ears from a noise as tears ran down her face. Her claws and fangs were extended, and she was clutching two guns in her hands. He looked for signs of violence, but there wasn’t a mark on her. He frantically looked around again, trying to find whatever the hell had attacked her.
Knox was peeking under the bed when another heartrending scream tore through him. The sound was filled with so much pain and terror that he stopped worrying about whatever—or whoever—had done this to her and hurried over to her.
Even though he’d made no effort to move quietly up to this point, it wasn’t until the mattress dipped under his weight that Rachel seemed to realize someone was in the apartment with her. Both arms snapped straight, two automatics pointed at his face, her fingers tense on the triggers.
“Rachel, it’s me,” he said as firmly but calmly as he possibly could considering the barrels of two weapons were aimed at him.
She must have recognized it was him because her arms slowly lowered until she dropped both weapons onto the bed. Before Knox could take a breath to ask if she was okay, Rachel threw herself into his arms, deep sobs shaking her whole body.
Knox wrapped his ar
ms around her, pulling her in close even as Rachel crawled into his lap and buried her face against his chest. He desperately wanted to know what had happened, but he knew she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. So he holstered his Glock, carefully moved Rachel’s weapons to the nightstand, then focused on calming her down. He sucked at stuff like this, but he did his best, rocking her gently, rubbing his hands softly up and down her back, and making quiet shushing sounds he hoped were soothing.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”
He knew the words were absolute babble, but he kept saying them over and over because he had to do something. Hearing her cry was more painful than almost anything he’d ever experienced in his life—like every tear that fell from her cheeks carried a piece of his soul with it.
He must have been better at this comforting thing than he realized because after a few minutes, Rachel’s sobs began to fade to whimpers, then slow to exhausted sighs. Only after her heart rate returned to normal and her breathing became regular did he finally ask the question he needed her to answer.
“What happened, Rachel? Who did this to you?”
When she didn’t answer right away, Knox thought she’d fallen asleep, but then he felt warm air brush against his neck and realized she was trying to speak. But her words were so thready and fragile, it was almost impossible to hear them, even for a werewolf.
“My nightmare came to life and tried to kill me,” she whispered.
Knox pulled back a bit to see her face, waiting for her to say more—something that would help him understand what she’d meant. But when all she did was gaze up at him with broken, fear-filled eyes, he knew if he wanted to know more, he would have to ask.
“You mean you had another nightmare? Is that what happened?”
He said the words carefully, not wanting to make it seem like he was making light of what she was going through. People threw the term nightmare around like it was something trivial, and he supposed that for some, their nightmares were little more than bad dreams. But he knew firsthand how powerfully incapacitating they could be. How it almost seemed like they could pull the life from a person.
Rachel hesitated. “I guess so, but it seemed so real. The clown was here.” She stopped, looking confused, then shook her head. “Or I thought he was here. I could see his face in the mirror, and the glass of the microwave—everywhere. He told me that I’ll never get away from him.”
Tears spilled down her face again, and Knox pulled her in close. “Shh. It’s okay.”
“I’m scared, Knox,” she sobbed against his chest. “It’s like I’m going insane and it’s getting worse every day. I can’t handle this on my own anymore.”
Knox recognized the symptoms of extreme PTSD. He’d seen it before—he’d felt it before. The nightmare of that damn clown’s attack was tearing her apart from the inside out.
He wrapped his arms around her more tightly, wanting to somehow protect her from every horrible thing that had ever happened to her with nothing more than his physical presence. “You don’t have to handle this on your own. I’ve got you and I won’t let anything happen to you. We’ll get you help and get through this together.”
They sat like that for a long time, Knox holding her close while she cried. When it seemed as if she was too exhausted to cry anymore, he felt her body relax until he was sure she’d fallen asleep. He held her a few minutes longer, then started to reposition her on the bed, figuring she’d be able to sleep better if he covered her with the blankets.
But the moment his arms loosened, her eyes shot open, full of panic. “Don’t let me go!” she practically shouted. “When you hold me, he feels far away and I feel safe.”
Knox wanted to check the door to her apartment to make sure it was closed, but he knew he couldn’t do that, at least not right now. So he lay back on the bed and pulled her onto his chest, wrapping her tightly in his arms again. Then he kissed her head and made the same soothing sounds as before.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “I’m never going to let you go.”
It seemed like only seconds before she was asleep again, and as Knox held her close and watched over her, he realized he’d never felt anything so perfect in his life.
Chapter 10
Rachel woke up wrapped in warmth and comfort so perfect all she wanted to do was lay there and revel in it. Following her instincts, she buried her face deeper into the pillow under her only to realize the pillow was harder than she was used to sleeping on…and had a heartbeat. Lifting her head, she opened her eyes to discover she’d been sleeping on a man’s chest.
She glanced up to see Knox asleep on his back with one arm casually thrown over his head, the other wrapped around her. He looked so edible lying there with the first rays of the morning sun lighting his scruff-roughened jawline.
He’d gotten a blanket over her at some point during the night, but it was the bare, muscular arm tucked around her providing the real warmth…and comfort. A quick check under the aforementioned blanket confirmed she was wearing her favorite orange-and-white Tennessee sleep shirt while Knox had on a pair of tight boxer briefs that were the same deep blue as his T-shirt. She dropped the blanket, guessing that meant they’d actually slept together instead of had sex. Rachel wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.
With a sigh, she rested her head on his chest again, replaying the events that had gotten her here.
She remembered the nightmare about the clown from last night, but here in Knox’s arms, it felt distant, like she was seeing a movie of an event she’d been involved in a long time ago. The terror had been so overwhelming it had driven her to some dark place in her head she thought she’d never escape from. But then Knox had shown up and everything she’d been afraid of had somehow receded into the background.
That was when she’d given in to the exhaustion that had been building for so long and fallen into the deepest, most relaxing sleep she’d gotten since that frigging clown had tried to kill her back in Chattanooga.
Rachel pondered that as she listened to Knox’s heart beating under her cheek, the scent of his body enveloping her like a second blanket. While she wasn’t comfortable putting a name to it, she knew there was something special about him and the way he made her feel. For the first time in a while, she wasn’t holding her breath waiting for the next panic attack to hit or the next shadow in the corner to scare her to death. With Knox there, she felt normal again.
She didn’t know if it was all the moving around or the noise of her overactive mind that woke Knox up, but either way, his arm tightened around her momentarily before he placed a tender kiss on top of her head.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked softly, tracing gentle circles on her back and shoulder with his fingers.
“No, it wasn’t you,” she murmured against his shirt, wondering how much nicer it would be if his chest were bare. “I always wake up the minute the sun shows its face. It’s been that way since I was a kid. Used to drive my parents bonkers.”
“I can see why,” he said with a chuckle. “Did you sleep okay?”
The concern in his voice was unmistakable, and Rachel smiled. “I slept great.” She tipped her head back to look up at him. “In fact, it was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time. Actually, it’s nearly the only sleep I’ve had in a long time. So, thank you.”
He looked confused for a moment, but before he could say anything, Rachel moved a little higher on his chest and kissed him. It was impulsive as heck, and if someone had asked why she’d done it, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to put it into words. But after everything that happened last night, it felt right.
She’d intended it to be a quick kiss, nothing more than a little added emphasis to her words. But the moment their lips touched and she felt the zip of electricity pass between them, she knew there was n
o way she could be satisfied with one little peck. When Knox pushed aside the blanket and urged her up higher, so she was lying fully atop his body, Rachel knew she wasn’t the only one feeling the tingle.
Knox slipped his tongue between her lips, deepening the kiss. She might have moaned a little at the taste of him, but if she did, she refused to be held accountable. It wasn’t her fault he was so damn delicious.
They made out for a long time, her hands resting on his chest, his tangled in her hair while their tongues slow danced. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d kissed a guy like this. Then it hit her. She couldn’t remember it because she’d never kissed a guy like this. Sure, she’d kissed guys before, but it had never felt like this. Her whole body was humming with a combination of excitement and arousal, just like it had on the dance floor last night. If the growing bulge under her thigh was any indication, Knox felt the same way.
She was disappointed when Knox broke the kiss and gently pushed her away to study her. But the smoldering heat in his warm brown eyes told her the pause was temporary.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said softly, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. “You can kiss me like that anytime you want and twice on Sunday, but please don’t feel like you have to pay me back for staying here with you last night. I did it because you needed me, not because I thought I’d get something out of it.”
She smiled, shocked at how warm and gooey his words made her feel inside. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it. I’m not trying to exaggerate here, but I’m pretty sure you saved me from a complete mental breakdown.”
It probably said a lot that Knox didn’t argue with her.
“I was serious last night. About getting through this together.” He pushed her hair back from her face. “I’ll help you find someone to talk to and go with you to the sessions if you want.”
She lay there on top of him, stunned at the offer. How the hell had this happened? One day he was a hunter who wanted to kill her kind, the next he was a werewolf who needed her help, last night he’d turned into the only person who could help her stay sane, and now he was in her bed making unbelievable promises. How was it possible for Knox to go from the worst possible human being to the man she couldn’t seem to do without?