“Yes, just a few emails. Did you need something?”
“I’m really happy for you, Kleo,” he says, walking farther into my room, fingertips brushing over a picture of my brother and me on my nightstand. I’ve known this man my entire life. He watched me grow up, so why is his presence making me want to run away as fast as I can?
“I really should get back downstairs.” I try to walk past him, and he steps in front of me.
“No need, they’re having fun.”
“They’re expecting me.”
“Why are you uncomfortable?”
“You’re in my bedroom.”
“You really do look beautiful tonight. Every bit the leader your father raised you to be. You’ll run this town one day, won’t you, Kleo?”
“I want to leave now.”
He shifts, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a blade. “Not just yet.” Opening the silver, he starts messing with his fingernails, running the tip beneath them. My pulse is pounding, my stomach feeling as though I swallowed a handful of rocks. He has me beat in both size and strength, but I might be faster.
Noticing the door still slightly open behind him, I start to move toward my dresser and dart for the opening. A large arm bands around my waist as a hand covers my mouth to stifle a scream. “Now, now, where are you going? We’re just going to have a little fun.”
I squirm, trying to break his hold. Something sharp presses against my belly, and I still instantly. Surely, he isn’t going to kill me in my bedroom. Surely, this man who’s known me my entire life isn’t going to hurt me. Heart hammering painfully against my ribs, I try to get away, but he spins, shutting the door behind us and pinning me against the wall beside it.
A lock clicks in place, and I shut my eyes tightly against tears. God, please, no, I plead. Please, not me.
“You know, I thought for sure you would have appreciated my help putting that kid away who you thought was sending you all those letters. Of course, he’s innocent, but I thought for sure you would have come to me—thanked me or something.” He grinds against me, and my stomach rolls, bile rising when I feel him harden between us.
“That’s right, young Phillip was innocent. Just a young kid with a crush.” His nose runs along the slope of my neck, and my vision swims with tears. “It really was me. You truly have grown into a beautiful woman, Kleo. And now, we’re going to have some fun.” He presses the knife against my back.
This is not going to happen. Even if he kills me. I open my mouth and bite down. The blade stabs me in the back, and I scream as he briefly removes his hand. “You ungrateful, little bitch!” He slams me against the wall again as someone bangs on my door.
“Kleo? You in there?” Judson asks, and hope surges through me.
“Say a damned thing and I’ll drive this blade into your heart,” the mayor whispers in my ear.
My mouth is covered again, so I use my foot and bang on the wall while screaming as much as I can against the hold on my mouth.
“Kleo?” Judson calls again. “Kleo!” he yells moments before my door flies open, wood splinters raining through my room. My brother, red-faced and fuming, takes in the mayor holding me at knifepoint and bellows, “Get the fuck off of her!”
The mayor swings me toward my brother, shoving me, and I slam headfirst into my dresser. Dazed, I don’t see what happens next, but when I finally sit up, my brother has the mayor pinned to the ground. But the bastard still has the knife, and he brings it up into my brother’s side.
“Help!” I scream and lunge toward them, trying to pull my brother to safety before the mayor has another shot at him. “Help!” My brother jumps back, giving the mayor enough time to get to his feet. He reaches for me, and Judson charges.
Glass shatters, and I watch in complete horror as my brother goes out my second-story window, my attacker with him.
Hands bind me to my bed, and I fight against the hold, kicking and thrashing to get free.
“Kleo! Dammit, it’s Dean!”
His voice brings me back, and I stop, opening my eyes to stare up into his. Face pale, he leans over me, his hands on my shoulders. He looks terrified, eyes wide, breaths coming out in ragged gasps.
“Let me go,” I warn, and he raises his hands, stepping back from my bed.
“You screamed. I came in here to check on you, and you were crying. I tried to wake you up. Shit, Kleo.” He runs both hands over his face and turns away from me just a moment before turning back. “I thought someone was hurting you.”
Slowly, I sit up, my pulse racing. “Sorry.”
“You okay?” he asks cautiously, and I nod.
“Bad dream.”
“I’ve never—I just—I’ve never seen anyone have an issue like that before,” he says, voice tight. I can see how uncomfortable he is. The set of his jaw is hard, his eyes narrowed on my face in the dim light of the bedside lamp he turned on.
Tucking my knees up to my chest, I lean my forehead against them and try to take deep breaths. The nightmares come often enough I expect them, but damn, it’s been months since I had a bad one. I hate that he saw me weak, that he was the one to come in here and wake me. But I’m damn glad he did.
I look up to tell him I’m fine, but he’s gone, and I’m in my room alone. Getting to my feet, I step over to the window and check to make sure it’s locked before sitting on the edge of the bed. Hands still shaking, I tuck them beneath my thighs and hang my head low.
“Here.” Dean steps into view, a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
“I’m trying not to—”
“Just take the drink, Kleo. A little isn’t going to get you hammered.”
I obey, desperate for some of the edge to disappear. The whiskey burns as it slips down my throat, but moments later, the alcohol soothes some of the nerves. When I glance up, Dean is watching me carefully, a glass of whiskey in his hand too.
“Thank you,” I say hoarsely.
He nods, and I catch sight of a red spot on his cheek. Quickly, I push to my feet. “Did I do that to you?”
“Not a big deal,” he says. “You do have a mean right hook, though.”
Guilt weighs down on me. “I’m so sorry.” I reach forward, running my finger along his face.
He winces, moving away from me. "You sure you're okay?”
Forcing a smile, I nod. "Perfectly. Don't even remember what it was about," I lie.
He stares at me, total disbelief in his sharp hazel gaze. If he calls me on my lie, I'm going to crumble. I know I will because standing here right now, I'm having a hard enough time holding it together so he doesn't see me break. At least not any more than he already witnessed.
Until tonight, my old roommate Macey was the only one who ever saw one of my nightmares. I'm not overly thrilled that the man who I'm competing with for my family's camp is the other one who's seen it. What if he thinks I'm weak? I down the rest of my drink, and he holds out a hand for my glass.
I hand it to him without argument, and he turns away. “If you want to talk…” he starts but never finishes, stepping out into the hall and leaving me to myself.
The moment the door closes, I lose it. Tears break through, streaming down my cheeks, my shoulders shaking with the force of my sobs. I can still feel my attacker’s hands on me, the blade against my skin. It haunts me, and I’m pretty damn sure it will for the rest of my life.