“Theo.” She blinked back tears, a remnant of her nightmare. She had that one so often. Over and over. Like her subconscious just didn’t want her to forget that day. Her conscious mind did, though. Oh, she wanted so much to banish that day into the blackness of nevermore.

Why couldn’t she just let it go, all of it? That memory didn’t serve her and she wanted it gone. Anytime her mind brushed past that event when she was awake, she veered from it, refusing to remember.

But when she was asleep, in her dreams, her subconscious played it over and over on a loop.

“Oh, God, make it stop,” she whispered, melting against Theo’s chest. She couldn’t get enough air. Her throat was closing up. “Why can’t I make it stop?”

He rubbed her back and held her close. “It’s okay, Sarafina. It’s over now. You’re awake. All over. Sometimes when a new witch starts training, stuff gets dredged up. The encounter with Bai probably didn’t help, either.”

She shook her head. “The dreams have always been there.” She could barely get the words past her constricted throat. “Nothing I do makes them go away.” Her voice held a thread note of hysteria.

“Relax, Sarafina. Take a deep breath.”

She gulped in air and let it out slowly.

“There you go. Good. Now, do it again.”

Sarafina fought for another lungful and let it out slowly, again and again until the tenseness in her body eased. A sob escaped her, but she didn’t cry. Sarafina was done crying for the woman who’d borne her. She hadn’t truly been her mother, Rosemary had.

Rosemary had been the one to help her cope in the days after this incident. She’d been the one to see Sarafina through her adolescent and teenage years. Rosemary had been the one to help Sarafina banish the cripplingly low self-esteem she’d had as a child from it.

Her foster mother had been the one who’d patiently taught her about life, the one who had loved her. Rosemary had been the one who’d helped her pick out her prom dress and who had held Sarafina while she’d cried from her first heart-break.

The woman who’d borne her wasn’t worth a thought, a memory, let alone a traumatic reoccurring dream.

If only Sarafina could convince her subconscious of that.

“Are you all right?” Theo murmured, stroking her hair.

She drew a trembling breath and took a moment to respond. “I’m better. I’m glad you’re here.” Her voice shook a little.

His arms tightened around her a degree, but he said nothing in response.