Selene sat up with a gasp. Her covers were tangled around her body and drenched in sweat. The wind rattled the windows and moaned outside. Grey clouds filled the sky, accentuating the chill inside her bedroom.

She leaned forward and gripped the front of her nightgown, breathing heavily. She could still feel the Dark Lady’s cold hands around her and the terror that had encapsulated her.

Why, after all this time, after her supplications back at Rook Castle, was the Dark Lady finally visiting her?

But I don’t want her. Not anymore.

She held her face in her hands. Why did she keep dreaming about this? Was this her dreamscape?

The door wrenched open at the foot of her bed, and Damien burst in, his shirt untucked and his feet bare. “Selene, are you all right?”

Her eyes went wide, and she pulled the furs up to her chest. “Yes. Why?”

He leaned against the doorway and ran a hand through his untidy hair. “I heard you yelling and I thought . . .” He looked back at her and dropped his hand. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It was only a-a nightmare.”

“A nightmare? Do you want to talk about it?”

Selene turned away. “No. Not really.”

There was a pause. “I understand. Some things are too hard to speak of.”

Her head snapped up. Was he referring to the death of his family?

“If ever you want to talk, just let me know.”

She had half a mind to tell him of the Dark Lady and her fears, but something stopped her. Was it shame?

“I’ll see you soon.” He turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Selene frowned. See you soon? She pressed a hand to her forehead. She had forgotten Damien had invited her to break their fast together this morning. Something about sharing a family tradition with her.

She dropped her hand and pushed the heavy quilts and furs aside. The cold air helped clear her mind as she stood to her feet. The floor was icy to the touch, sending another jolt of awakening through her body. The thought of spending the morning with Damien lightened her heart, banishing the images from her most recent nightmare. The Dark Lady could not have her. Her mother and sister might worship the Lady of the Night, but not her. She wanted something more. Something new. And her life with Damien could give her that chance.

Selene shivered from the cold, reaching for the wrap that lay at the end of her bed. As she pulled it across her shoulders, she paused. She remembered screaming Damien’s name in her dream. Had she yelled his name in the physical world as well?

He had obviously come from bed to check on her, given his state of undress. The thought touched her heart, and warmth spread across her body, reaching her fingers and her toes.

A half hour later, Selene sank down on the rug beside Damien inside his room. Snow fell gently outside the windows, and the fire popped and crackled within the large fireplace a couple of feet in front of them. She eyed the silver platter that sat on the floor on his other side. A round of bread had been sliced and lay fanned out on a plate, along with a small-lidded crock, a pot of tea, and two cups.