From the bedroom, a low moan started, a sound so unearthly that for a moment he couldn’t figure out what it was. It built, then he knew and bolted toward the bedroom in time to see her sit up and release a full-bodied scream.

The scream went on and on.

He didn’t know what to do. He had experience with physical emergencies, but this... Her eyes saw him, silhouetted against the light. They widened in terror, she pushed with her hands as if to force him away. The scream became more intense, louder, of a soul in fear and anguish.

Perhaps it was the wrong thing to do, but he flipped on the overhead.

He saw the moment she snapped awake out of her nightmare. She collapsed back against the headboard, bumped her skull and moaned, “I thought you were him.” Her voice rasped from the bruising on her throat and probably from the force of the scream.

In a low, reassuring voice, he said, “No. I’m not him. You’re safe.”

She started crying painful, wrenching sobs and tears.

He moved toward her, holding his hands palms up where she could see them. He made shushing noises, the way people did with a baby, and offered her a box of tissues. She didn’t take one or two, she took the whole box. “I’m okay,” she kept saying. “I’m okay.”

Oh, definitely. “You need water.” He picked up the water bottle he’d left at her bedside and offered it.

She took it and fought to stop crying so she could drink. She drank sips of water, looked at him with eyes drooping. “Thank you.”

“Who is he?” Adam asked.

She froze, staring. She paled, and the bruises burned purple and black against her skin. She trembled, as did her voice. “He’s coming at me...out of the darkness. Tall. Eyes glinting. His big fists...they’re reaching for me. He has me!” Her voice rose to a shriek. “I can’t breathe! I can’t scream!”

He sat on the bed, grasped her hands. “Shh. Shh. Elle, you’re not there. You’re with me.”

Her hands jerked in his. She didn’t seem to hear him. “I can’t see. Nothing but explosions of light. I’m dying. Dying...”

“You’re with me. Stay with me.” At last, his urgency seemed to reach her.

Her gaze returned to his. She saw him. She nodded, slid sideways and just like that, she was asleep.

He caught the bottle as it tipped. He put it and the tissues on the bedside table and eased her back onto the mattress.

Right. Neither of them had slept last night. He was starting to think his chances of sleeping tonight didn’t look promising, either. When he thought of how she’d fought the storm, the cold, the waves, he was in awe of her stamina—even if she was dead when she hit the beach.