Page 70 of Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

“Jesus fucking Christ, Elena?” He comes to my side of the bed.

I stare at my hands, failing to manage any words. Images return of the worst night of my life. So much blood. Sticky, dark blood.

Jax’s fingers press into my shoulders. “Tell me what the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

Bloody.

I tumble out of bed and rush to the bathroom, switching on the lights before making it to the toilet. Acid coats my tongue as my dinner fights its way back up. My fingers tremble as I clutch onto the side of the ceramic seat.

“Fuck. Are you sick? Should I call a doctor?” Jax kneels down next to me, lifting my hair away from my face.

“Lights,” I hiss. “Why did you shut off the lights?” My voice sounds broken. Weak. Defeated.

His wild eyes roam over my face as he clutches onto my hair tighter. “This is because of the dark? You scared the shit out of me. I thought something was seriously wrong with you.”

Another round of sickness rolls through me, but I fight it. I stand, my wobbly legs nearly buckling as I walk toward the sink.

More unwanted images flood my mind. Shattered glass. Blood, dark and thick, sticking to my body. I take a few deep breaths as I turn on the water, pump soap into my hands, and start washing.

“Elena, talk to me. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

My hands tremble as I rid myself of the soap. I switch tasks, deciding to vigorously brush my teeth to the point of pain before turning off the water. My eyes linger on my hands, looking clean despite the feeling of disgust sitting heavy inside of me. I turn the water back on to wash them again.

Jax grabs me and lifts me up, throwing me over his shoulder. “No more weird handwashing. Stop freaking the fuck out and talk to me.”

I scream as he carries me back into the pitch-black room. “No!” I claw at his back.

“Fucking hell. Cut it out.”

“I want the lights!” My body shakes as I battle the tears begging for release.

He places me on the bed and turns on the lamp. “Shit, Elena. You’re afraid of the dark?”

I shake my head and tuck my knees into my chest. My eyes linger on the photo of my parents before I close them. Pain, blindingly hot, shoots through my chest. A wounded cry comes out of me. I place my forehead against my knees and sob, curling into myself to save me from the embarrassment of Jax watching me lose it. Shame fills me at letting someone see me like this, but I haven’t had a nightmare this vivid in a long time. So long I forgot what they feel like.

“What in the bloody hell happened to you?” Jax whispers. He surprises me when he slowly gets on the bed and pulls my curled body down onto the mattress. His body molds into mine. My skin prickles with awareness, craving his closeness, especially after what I experienced.

I don’t want to be alone, and somehow, he knows this.

Jax drags the comforter up our bodies, cocooning us.

“Don’t turn off the lights again. Never ever again. Promise me,” I rasp.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I had no idea you were afraid of the dark when I shut them off. I thought you fell asleep and forgot.”

“I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“Your screaming begs to differ.”

“I’m afraid of my memories,” I speak softly, unsure if he heard me.

I jolt when he runs his hand through my hair. My eyes shut and my head tingles from his slow caress through my waves. I’m painfully aware of Jax’s body. His heat surrounds me, offering a sense of protection.

“Go to sleep. I’ll keep watch for any bad guys.”

A new tight feeling in my chest replaces the one left behind from the nightmare. I don’t think I’ve ever been as grateful for Jax’s presence than in this moment. “Are you counting yourself?”

“Always. But I’ll protect your virtue, don’t worry.”