Page 18 of Absolution (Favorite Malady Trilogy #3)

ABIGAIL

T he shadowy man hovers at the end of my bed, close enough that he could reach out and grab my ankles.

Terror thrums through me, but I’m frozen in place. There’s nothing I can do to evade him.

Dane. I need Dane.

I open my mouth to scream for him, but no sound comes out.

He can’t save me if he doesn’t know I’m in danger.

Another shadow appears at the man’s side. The little girl’s lips are parted on a wail that’s as silent as my own. Tears stream from her aqua eyes, and she reaches for me, seeking help that I can’t give.

The man’s silhouette wraps around her, dragging her into darkness. An echo of the shadow’s touch clings to my skin like toxic sludge, and I shudder in pure revulsion.

There’s nothing I can do. I’m powerless to stop him. I can’t save the little girl.

I can’t save myself.

My vocal cords are raw from my silent screams, and I swear I can hear the anguished sound locked inside my own head.

“Abigail!”

My eyes snap open, but I’m not fully free of the nightmare. The crying child is enfolded by the shadow, dragged deeper into the man’s sick embrace until she disappears entirely.

I sit bolt upright, my hand shooting out to grab at nothing. There’s no small hand to clutch. She’s gone.

A primal wail fills the bedroom, and hot tears sear my cheeks.

“You’re safe. Abigail, look at me.”

Dane’s voice. Dane’s hands on my shoulders, holding me as though I’m made of porcelain. Dane’s piercing green eyes, dark with worry.

I blink away my tears, and the shadows dissipate entirely. The bedroom is illuminated by the bedside lamp, the light chasing away the looming threat of the man’s silhouette.

Dane cups my chilled cheek with aching care. “Look at me.”

It’s a low command this time, even if the words are rough with desperation.

A sob tears from my chest, and I throw myself into his arms. He catches me, holding me gently. His big hand strokes my hair, playing through the sable strands in the way that always calms me. I shake against him, and he murmurs reassurances.

Slowly, the fog of visceral terror ebbs, and my rational brain comes back online.

“I’ve got you,” he promises over and over again. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

I nod against his chest, and the flow of my tears slows.

His hand curves around the back of my head, tenderly holding me close as he presses a kiss to my brow.

“I need you to talk to me,” he beseeches. “I know you didn’t want to tell me about your nightmare last time, but I have to know.”

My stomach lurches with a surge of nausea, and I squeeze my eyes shut. The shadowy man lurks in the darkness of my mind, so I open them again and focus on Dane.

His eyes are tight with concern, and a shadow flits at his jaw. “Please, Abigail. Tell me about it. I’ll make it better.”

The words to describe the full horror of the nightmare stick my throat.

“Was it about what happened this afternoon?” he asks, voice soft and coaxing despite the harsh slashes of his drawn brows. “Billy will never get to you. I will handle him.”

He’s planning to kill my assailant, but I don’t argue with him. Billy threatened my life. I’ll gladly allow Dane to protect me. To protect both of us.

I can’t go to the police to report Billy because that would draw attention to his vendetta. There would be questions about what happened to Ron. Possibly an investigation.

I won’t put Dane at risk like that. So, I won’t utter a word of protest at his murderous intentions. I’m at peace with his ruthless nature.

“He’ll never breathe the same air as you again,” Dane vows darkly. “You’ll be safe, and you won’t be troubled by another nightmare about a man threatening you.”

He thinks my night terror back in York was about Stephen.

I shake my head.

“There was a man,” I confess. “He was just a shadow, but I know it wasn’t Stephen or Billy.”

Dane’s arms tense around me, but his hold remains gentle. “What did this shadow do to you?”

I draw in a shuddering breath. “Nothing. He just scared me. And there was…”

My stomach twists violently at the thought of the anguished child.

Dane strokes my hair and waits for me to continue.

After several sickening seconds, I manage, “There was a little girl. She was desperate for my help, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t save her.” Then I force myself to admit, “She scares me more than the man.”

Dane freezes, his hand stilling in my hair.

When he finally speaks, the words are so gravelly that they’re barely intelligible. “What did she look like?”

“Me,” I say, voice small. “She looked like me.”

Dane remains unnervingly still, and although his jaw works, he doesn’t make a sound.

His distress shreds me. I reach out and trace the taut line of his anvil-hard jaw.

“It was just a nightmare,” I reassure him. “I’m safe with you.”

He draws in a deep breath and resumes stroking my hair, but his eyes are still dark with an emotion I can’t name.

“You are,” he swears. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be right here for the rest of the night.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, brushing my fingertips over his furrowed brow.

He turns his face into me and captures my hand so that he can kiss my palm. “I’m fine, my sweet Abigail. Don’t worry about me. Sleep, little dove.”

Exhaustion saps me all the way to my bones, and his tender touch soothes me like nothing else. I close my eyes and am dragged back down into sleep in a matter of minutes, completely wrung out from the night terror.

As long as Dane is holding me, nothing bad can touch me.