And it worked so well it lasted even after they both came. It lasted while Delilah purred and Abel held her and she shared snippets of her life—her friends, her apartment, what she liked to do, stories of her father’s and his friends’ antics—doing it sleepier and sleepier until she trailed off and he lost her to her dreams.

When he did, Abel closed his eyes, and with his mate tucked close for the second night in a row, he became lost to a dreamless sleep, her sweet voice, lilted with its natural husk as well as love and sometimes laughter, still ringing in his ears.

Chapter Ten

Small Successes

Delilah

They had him.

They had him.

They had him.

I had to get to him. I had to stop it. I had to save him.

They hit me in the back.

Paws.

The force immense, knocking my breath out of me, the weight tremendous, taking me down to my front so fast I didn’t even lift my arms to cushion my fall.

He used his powerful head to nose me to my back.

Then he was on me.

The wolf.

And he didn’t hesitate to bare his teeth and go for my throat.

* * * * *

I jerked violently awake to see Abel’s face close to mine, illuminated only by the light from the lamp over the bed.

I felt his hand cupping my jaw.

My hand darted to his of its own accord, my fingers curling tight around his wrist.

“Lilah, bao bei,” he murmured gently.

“Shit, I just had a nightmare,” I breathed, realizing dazedly my entire body was hot and I was panting.

“You did, pussycat,” Abel confirmed. “You were jerking around, got hot to the touch. Been tryin’ to wake you for five minutes.”

Seriously?

“Five minutes?” I asked.

“Maybe more,” he told me. “You were beginning to freak me.”

I focused on him and could only respond with “Ugh. Sorry.”

“What were you dreaming?” he asked.

I blinked up at him as my mind went blank.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

“It just happened,” he noted.

“I know, but…” I hesitated, trying to call it up but failing. “It’s gone.”

Abel studied me as his thumb started to stroke my cheek.

Then he asked, “Do you have nightmares a lot?”

I shook my head on the pillow. “No, I…I mean, I have them. But not a lot.”

“When you do, do you remember them?”

I nodded. “Yes. Mostly.”

“Do you dream a lot?” he pressed.

I shook my head again. “I dream, but I wouldn’t say it’s a lot. Why?”

“I do. Every night. Or, I did.”

“Did?”

“First night you slept beside me was the first night I can remember for centuries that I didn’t dream. This night the same.”

Wow. Weird.

“Is that, um…good?” I asked.