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As if she’d heard him again, Tai frowned.

“Was it your dream? Or his?” she asked him, refolding her arms. She pursed her small, bow-like seer lips. “Did I pull you into that? Or were you the one who broughtmethere? I can usually feel that… at least a little. I can feel the difference. If it’s me… or you… or someone else. This time, I couldn’t. This time, I don’t know.”

Tai frowned, still studying his face.

An unnerved look had risen to her eyes.

Her voice sounded a little bit scared.

“I really can’t tell, Nick.I can’t tell.”

Nick didn’t answer.

He honestly wasn’t sure how to answer.

He didn’t want to make her more afraid. He didn’t want to share any part of his fucked-up dream with her either. At the same time, he could clearly see she was trying to tell him something.

That, or maybe ask him something.

The last thing Nick wanted to do was shut her down.

He looked at her, waiting for her to explain, unsure why he was so frustrated with her. Well, not her. He wasn’t frustrated with her.

He was frustrated with this conversation.

Too frustrated. Frustrated verging on angry.

Maybe he expected her to explain what woke him up, too. Maybe he wanted to know why he’d been awake even before she screamed. Maybe he wanted to know why he’d even fallen asleep, or how he’d slept through his wife leaving, hours ago.

A muscle in his cheek twitched as he waited for her to explainwhyshe’d screamed, why she was looking at him the way she was, what she’d been dreaming about.

He realized a beat later he was afraid.

“What wereyoudreaming about?” she asked him.

Her voice held the faintest note of accusation.

Nick’s eyes refocused on hers.

Those pale, ice blue eyes studied him intently.

He still felt odd, like he wasn’t quite in his body.

At the same time, he couldn’t help but hear the fear note in her voice.

He knew it likely mirrored his, at least in part.

Remembering again that she was a seer, and a damned powerful one at that, Nick realized a part of him was worried he’d shared that horrible, psychotic dream-mind with her. He was worried she’d been in his head. He worried she’d seen, heard, and smelled what he saw––the dead bodies, the blood, the little girl.

More than anything, he worried that he’d somehow pulled that same, sick, twisted voice into her mind, that she’d seen inside that fucker’s head, and it terrified her.

It terrified her so much she screamed.

He found his mind going back to that other house, that other little girl.

How the fuck had his mind even come up with that?

The last thing he remembered before that was being curled around Wynter, her heart beating loud against his skin as she came down from sex.