Page 18 of Devils Cut

I shake my head, trying to dispel the lingering images of what I can't have. Stepping out of the shower, I quickly dry myself off, not bothering to cover up with the towel as I stride back into the bedroom. Naked, I grab a pair of boxers and pull them on before climbing into bed. The clock on the nightstand reads 6:30 pm – too early for sleep, but I need to clear my mind.

"Fuck it," I mutter, grabbing the worn novel from the nightstand. It's one of the old classics; something about immersing myself in a simpler time helps me escape the chaos of being the VP.

I turn to the page I have dog-eared and dive back into the story where I left off. The peace it brings is welcome, even if temporary.

I lose myself in the pages, pushing the relentless thoughts of Tempest away. For now, this is where I need to be – far from the dangerous allure of a girl, that has already caught too much of my attention.

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I bolt upright, heart pounding, as a bloodcurdling scream pierces the night. Tempest. My body moves before my mind can catch up, and I'm out of bed, tearing down the hallway to her room in seconds.

"Tempest!" I yell, praying it's not too late. The door doesn't stand a chance against my adrenaline-fuelled rage. Splinters fly as I shoulder through it with a sickening crack, ready to face whatever twisted fuck has gotten into our territory.

But there's no one here.

Just Tempest, tangled in her sheets, thrashing and sobbing, trapped in the throes of a nightmare. Her eyes are wide open but unseeing, filled with terror. Every muscle in her body is taut, like a cornered animal ready to fight or flee.

"Fuck," I hiss under my breath, taking in the destroyed door that now hangs uselessly from its hinges. I need to calm her down, but how? She hates being touched.

"Shit," I mutter, with adrenaline still pumping through my veins, I shove it back into place as best as I can. It's not perfect, but it'll have to do for now.

"Tempest," I say, walking over to the bed where she lies trembling, her face streaked with tears. "Get off me, get off me," she whimpers, lost in her own hellish nightmare.

"Hey, hey..." I try to soothe her, grabbing her shoulders. "I'm not on you, princess. You're having a nightmare."

Her breathing hitches, and a flicker of recognition crosses her face. But there's still fear in her eyes, and I know I need to calm her down before she spirals again.

"Corvus?" she chokes out.

"Right here," I reply, keeping my voice steady. "You're safe, Tempest. Just breathe, alright?"

She looks at me, her hands gripping my arms tightly. This is the first time she's ever willingly touched me.

"Corvus," she whispers, her voice shaking. "Please... don't leave."

I realize then that she needs to feel safe – truly safe – in this moment.

"Never, princess," I promise, scooping her up into my arms. Her body trembles as I cradle her, sitting at the head of the bed with my back to the board. I can feel her heart racing against my chest.

Tears stream down her face, wetting my chest. I hold her closer, trying to shield her from whatever haunts her dreams.

"Shhh, it's okay, princess," I murmur into her hair. "I've got you."

Her breath hitches and she clutches at me like I'm a lifeline. Slowly, her sobbing begins to quiet, and the tension in her body lessens. I can feel her heartbeat gradually slow to a more steady rhythm.

Fuck, I think, as I look down at her. What the hell happened to her?

She doesn't let anyone touch her and keeps people at arm's length. But here I am, holding her tight as she seeks comfort. My mind keeps racing, trying to piece together why she wound up here, so far from home. Australia is a long way away after all.

As she calms down, I find myself wishing I could ask her about her past, about the things that have led her to this moment.

The scent of apples and cinnamon fills my nostrils. Her breathing has finally evened out, the tears dried on her cheeks. I can tell she's fallen back into slumber, the nightmare momentarily chased away by the reality of my embrace.

"Alright," I murmur to myself, "time to let you rest, princess."

I start to shift, intending to lay her back down on the bed when her whimper stops me cold. The sound is low, almost lost among the blankets, but it's enough to send a shiver racing down my spine.

"Fuck," I swear under my breath, feeling her grip tighten, her body unconsciously seeking the safety of my arms. She might be asleep, but her mind is still trapped in terror, unable to break free.

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