It felt nice to be seen again.
I woke, darkness all around me. I put out my hand, gasping when I felt the bars of the cage once again entrapping me. The moldy, bitter scent of the enclosure permeated my head. I sat up, terrified, clawing at the cage.
It had been a dream. All of it. Being rescued. Marcus. I wasn’t safe. I wasn’t protected. My mind had made him all up. I began to scream.
I heard rushed footsteps, and I knew what would happen next. The wall would spring open, and I would be silenced. Tied down. Hurt again. It was worse every time they got me.
My screams became louder and more frantic. His name echoed in the chamber around me. Hands gripped my shoulders, but instead of pain and torment, I felt warmth and safety. A low voice murmured my name over and again. Hushed me, begged me to open my eyes.
With a gasp, I did. I was in Marcus’s room. In his bed. A light was on, casting its glow in the room so I could see. I was locked in his arms, his heat settling into me, his voice a comforting murmur in my ear.
“I have you, sweetheart. You’re safe. I’m here.”
With a sob, I flung my arms around his neck, greedily inhaling the scent of his skin. It burned away the memory I had been reliving—the knowledge that I was safe, that he was real, leaving me spent and exhausted. Silent tears poured down my face.
“I was b-back there,” I choked out. “You weren’t real. I was all-all alone.”
“No,” he whispered. “It was a dream, sweetheart. You’re safe. You’ll always be safe with me.”
“Where were you?”
“On the sofa. I tucked you in a little while ago.” He pulled back, tenderly brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I thought you were out for the night.”
“No,” I pleaded, still frantic. “I need you with me, Marcus. I need you nearby.” It was true. Every time he was close, I relaxed. I couldn’t explain it, I didn’t understand it, but it was true.
“I’m not sure how good an idea that is,” he admitted. “When I get close to you, I lose all common sense.”
“Please,” I begged, my voice rising. “Don’t leave me. It’ll come back.”
He ran his hand over my head. “Shh, sweetheart. I’ll stay.”
He lifted the blanket and slid in beside me. He pulled me into his arms, his bare chest firm and warm on my back. He stroked his hand over my hair. “I’m right here. Go to sleep.”
“You won’t leave?”
“No, I promise. I’ll stay.” He pressed his lips to my head. “Sleep now.”
I let out a long, shuddering sigh. With him close, all I felt was secure. His heat soaked into my skin, relaxing me more. His whispered reassurances lulled my weary eyes to close. His voice and touch were the last things I heard and felt as I slipped into a dreamless slumber.
The next time I woke up, the curtain had been pulled back, and sun streamed into the room. I sat up abruptly, my gaze sweeping the room. The door was open, and I could hear Marcus’s voice somewhere in the apartment. Recalling my terror of the night, I was grateful for his thoughtfulness in making sure the room was lit. I got up and showered, still feeling the need to scrub my skin and try to erase the sensation of the dirt embedded into my pores. I dressed back into the sweater and pants and headed down the hall.
Marcus was at the table, surrounded by computers, files, talking on the phone via Bluetooth as he typed. He glanced up, his gaze meeting mine. His eyebrows lifted in a silent question, and I offered him a small smile and a nod. I appreciated the fact that he kept working up here instead of downstairs so he was close to me.
He shut the laptop, flipped the open file folder closed, and stood. He pointed to the sofa and, a moment later, handed me some juice and a donut. He finished his conversation and hung up, eyeing me.
“You look a little better, sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry about last night. I—”
He cut me off. “No apology needed.” He lifted his mug to his mouth. “I understand.”
“May I have some coffee?”
“You like coffee?”
“Yes. With cream or milk if you have it.”
He stood and returned with another steaming mug, his mug obviously refilled. I inhaled the aroma of the hot liquid, then took a sip. Ridiculously, I felt my eyes fill with tears at the taste of the beverage. I blinked them away, unable to meet his gaze. He must have thought I was an emotional basket case. As if he knew what I was contemplating, he spoke.
“Hey.”
I met his understanding gaze. He tried to lighten the atmosphere.
“You’re not the first woman to weep after spending the night with me, you know. I have that effect.”