Page 34 of A Memory Not Mine (Sanguis Amantium #1)

Chapter thirty-three

Baird

H e startled awake when he felt Mira’s heart racing beside him, her body rigid, eyes darting frantically beneath closed lids. Adrenaline surged through her veins like wildfire—he could feel it radiating from her, every muscle locked in terror.

“Mira…Mira, wake up!” he urged, shaking her gently.

She screamed, thrashing against him. Her hands clawed at his face and arms like a panicked animal, wild and disoriented. He shook her again—harder this time—and her eyes snapped open, wide and glassy, unfocused. She didn’t know where she was.

Baird resisted the impulse to pull her into his arms. He knew better.

She needed time—to reorient, to recognize him, to come back to herself.

Her pulse thundered against his fingertips.

He waited, letting the rush of panic ebb as her brain slowly stopped receiving the relentless distress signals firing from her adrenal glands.

Her hair was damp with sweat. He could smell the fear on her skin, and it turned his stomach—not because she was afraid, but because the scent stirred something deeper in him. Something darker.

He was glad the room was cloaked in shadows. Glad she couldn’t see how her fear made his pupils dilate .

“Dinna fash, Mira,” he said quietly, cupping both sides of her face. “Yer with me.”

Her eyes finally focused, and the tears came in a sudden rush. Her breath hitched in shallow, broken gasps.

“Baird…” she choked out. “I’ve been seeing a man in my dreams. He’s different than my waking visions— darker . He’s the one who painted Agnes, I know it.” Her words came in sobs. “But I saw him the other day, at the flea markets. He followed me for hours. I know it’s the same man.”

An ancient, visceral fury sparked in his chest—Bastien was there, following her, watching her. He knew this would happen, he’d just not known when. The dark one was taunting her—both of them, and the rage that grew inside Baird wasn’t hot—it was cold, bleak, and black.

“There, there, love…hush now,” Baird whispered, lips brushing against her damp hair as he pulled her into his arms. “It was nothing but a bad dream. Nothing more. Lay back on me—I’ve got ye.”

He held her close as her trembling began to ease, as her breathing slowly steadied.

“Yer safe,” he said again.

But Baird knew it was the furthest thing from the truth.

He needed to tell her.