Tall, Dark & Furious (Pyte/Sentinel 6)

“True, but I don’t think anyone expected the level of chaos happening right now.”

“The war’s coming, Drew,” she said, which was another reason why they needed to-

“It’s already here,” Chris said, looking grim as he came down the stairs and handed them an iPad and what they saw on the screen had her wondering how they were going to survive this.

Chapter 24

Westdrom, Maine

He needed the sun to come up and he needed it now, Trace thought, slowly exhaling as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He was exhausted, but every time he allowed his eyes to shut, he found himself back in that tomb, staring at the stones keeping him trapped.

Terrified that this would end up being another dream and the next time that he opened his eyes that he would find himself trapped back in that tomb, he forced himself to stay awake. When he felt his eyelids begin to slide shut, he gave his head a shake and ground his jaw as he sat there, clenching his hands into fists as he forced himself to focus on the small woman asleep in the bed across the room.

As he sat there with his back pressed against the wall, Trace thought about how soft her skin was, how it felt to run his fingers through her hair and…felt his head begin to drop only to force his head back up with a firm shake. He forced his eyes open, noting that everything was now red and-

Watched as the small woman that he felt himself drawn to open her eyes and went still when she saw that the room was now pitch-black. He listened as her breath caught and her heartbeat sped up as the scent of fear slowly permeated the air. She licked her lips nervously as she tightened her grip around the blankets. Swallowing hard, her gaze shifted towards the closed bedchamber door before glancing around the room again.

As he waited for her to scream, he felt his eyes begin to close again and the stones of his tomb flashed across his vision, forcing him to struggle to open his eyes as a pained groan escaped him. He didn’t want to go back to that tomb. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t spend another moment kneeling on that hard floor, struggling to take in air that wasn’t there, feeling like he was being cooked alive, surrounded by hard, unforgiving surfaces that tore at his skin anytime he moved.

Fighting exhaustion with everything he had, Trace opened his eyes and found himself watching as his wife slowly pushed the covers aside and after a slight hesitation, she slowly climbed off the bed and stood there, staring at the red glow of his eyes while he sat there, waiting for her to run away and knowing that he didn’t have the energy to stop her.

Keeping her eyes locked in his direction, Samantha blindly reached back and grabbed a blanket off the bed, making him frown. He watched in confusion as she walked towards him. When she reached him, he found himself moving his legs apart so that she wouldn’t trip only to find himself grunting when she sat down between his legs, accidentally, at least he was telling himself that it was an accident, elbowing him in the stomach before she shifted to get more comfortable. Once she was settled, she pulled the blanket up so that it covered them both, curled up against him, laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes with a soft sigh.

Before he realized what he was doing, Trace found himself wrapping his arms around her. For several minutes, he was content to simply sit there holding her as he listened to her breathe as the sounds of her heart beating slowly lulled him to sleep and this time when his eyes began to close, he didn’t fight it.

*-*-*

-*

She could sleep like this forever, Samantha thought with a sigh as she opened her eyes and-

Decided that she definitely preferred the comfort of a bed over the ceiling any day of the week. Trying not to panic, and admittedly not doing a very good job of it, she grabbed hold of the large man somehow pressing her against the ceiling, squeezed her eyes shut and whispered his name.

When nothing happened, and she wasn’t exactly sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing at this moment, she swallowed hard, cleared her throat and said his name a little louder.

Nothing.

“Trace?”

A grumble.

“Trace?”

A grumble, a groan and something that she really couldn’t understand, not over her screams at least since he chose that moment to roll over onto his back, which was something that she admittedly hadn’t been prepared for. In seconds, he had his arms wrapped tightly around her and was rolling her over onto her back and-

She decided that she never wanted to do this again when they hit the floor a few seconds later with a pained grunt. Yeah, definitely not something that she wanted to experience again, Samantha decided as she sat up to make sure that he was okay only to find herself staring down into a pair of angry red eyes.

When he continued to glare, she shifted only to rethink that decision when she felt that very large part of him that she would probably be better off not thinking about pushing against her bottom and how good it felt. Not really sure what she was supposed to say at this point, she blurted out, “I’m Samantha,” which resulted in those terrifying red eyes narrowing on her and giving her two choices, ramble on like an idiot or pass out and hope for the best.

For some reason, she went with rambling like an idiot.

“My name is Samantha, but nobody calls me that for some reason. I prefer Samantha, but at this point it’s a losing battle because as soon as I tell someone my name they automatically start calling me Sam for some reason,” she said, sighing heavily with a sad shake of her head and a, “I really wish they’d stop doing that.”

When he only continued to glare, she cleared her throat, moved to shift to get more comfortable, thought better of it, and mumbled, “My brother calls me Sammie, but I think that’s because he’s secretly hoping that I kill him in his sleep.”

This time a tiny muscle in his clenched jaw noticeably throbbed, so she decided to point out, “We’ve never been formally introduced,” with what she hoped was a warm smile only to end up mumbling, “You’re just gonna keep calling me wife, aren’t you?”

“Good talk,” she found herself murmuring absently when he continued to glare as she debated the best way to climb off him without making this awkward only to find herself scrambling off him when he moved to get up. By the time that he stormed out of the room, she was already in the bathroom shutting the door behind her, locking it and leaning back against it, telling herself that it would make a difference, really hoping that his father was able to get here before she said something to get herself killed.