The huge man and the small kitten were such an obvious contradiction that she could only stare as Kat rubbed against Wolfe’s chin and started purring.

“The kitten and the wolf,” she murmured, forcing her hands to stop clutching the bedcovers.

“Sounds like a nursery rhyme.” All fierce grace, Wolfe moved to sit on the bed, reaching down and replacing the photograph on the bed table. “What was the dream about?”

She took a deep breath. Wolfe had rescued her when an ex-senator had kidnapped and tried to torture her, so there wasn’t much to hide from him. “I was back in the Senator’s office,” she whispered.

“Thought so.” Wolfe covered her hand with his broad one. “That monster is dead and gone. He can’t get to you ever again.”

“I know.” The senator had been killed in prison by another prisoner in a fight over a tomato, oddly enough. That made no difference to the nightmares. Wolfe’s hand was warm and firm, and nothing in her wanted to move her fingers out from under his. Friends held hands, right? It was okay to take some comfort from him, since he was offering it. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“I don’t sleep much,” he said, smelling like whiskey and male.

Her mouth watered.

Kat jumped from his shoulder and landed in Dana’s lap, stretching his back and clawing the comforter. He kept purring. At least the animal had forgiven her. She looked for somewhere to focus other than on the sexy male sitting too close but not close enough. Her gaze landed on the picture of him in his early teens, his arm slung around a girl with the same brown eyes, both standing in front of an elderly woman with a soft smile. “Is this your family?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled. “My sister, Karen, and our grandmother, who raised us. Well, mostly.”

“You have a sister?” Blinking, she turned to look at him again. Wolfe had a sister?

“I had one,” he said softly. “She was killed at fifteen, when I was thirteen. Joined the wrong chat room and ended up chatting with the wrong guy. She thought he was seventeen and met him at a mall one night, without us knowing, of course. We found her body a week later. He’s in jail, serving a life sentence.”

God, how painful. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “Me, too. Grams died four years later, after talking me into joining the military. Thought I could use structure and a purpose. She was usually right.”

The night closed in, the silence cocooning them. Memories of her own childhood, of happiness untouched by tragedy, filled her heart. Why had Wolfe lost so much, and what was driving him so hard now? It wasn’t fair. “Parents?”