just make out her features in the dim light, twisted with either pain or fear. As he listened, trying to decide whether to wake her, the sound turned into more than whimpering. She cried out, the emotion in her voice tortured and raw. “No. Please. My babies. I need my babies.”
He frowned, sitting up and scrubbing his face to push away the remaining tendrils of sleep.
“I’m not Sonia. I’m Elizabeth. Why won’t you believe me? Please. Please! Don’t leave me trapped here.”
She said a few more things, her words garbled and unintelligible but the distress coming through with grim clarity.
Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. He flipped on the light on the table between the two beds. “Lizzie? Wake up. You’re dreaming.”
“Luke. Oh, Luke.” She said his name on a sob, her eyes still closed. He was fairly sure she wasn’t awake but he couldn’t be sure. He did know he hated her tears.
“Hey, now. Don’t cry.”
Though he knew it was probably one of the more stupid things he could do, he couldn’t resist sliding out of bed and sitting on the edge of hers. She was trembling. He could feel the bed vibrating with her small movements.
“Don’t cry,” he repeated. “You’re dreaming.”
Except this didn’t seem like a dream. She wasn’t here. She was...somewhere else.
He reached a hand out to calm her. That was all he really intended but the next moment she was somehow in his arms.
In an instant, seven years melted away. She was here and she was his.
He had forgotten how perfectly she fit in his arms, how her head nestled against his chest at precisely the right angle and her arms wrapped around his waist. She smelled the same, that mix of citrus and vanilla that always made his mouth water.
He wanted to bury his face in her hair and inhale, to burn that scent into his memory again.
He knew the instant she started to awaken. Her whimpering slowed and then stopped altogether. She sighed, and for perhaps sixty seconds, she relaxed in his arms, her body going boneless and calm before he could feel her muscles tighten and she started to fight against his hold.
“Don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me. Take what you want but don’t hurt me.”
He hated those words. He had never hurt her. He even hated raising his voice. How many times had he walked away when she would explode at him, lashing out in her pain that he should leave her, that he was better off without her?
“Easy. Easy. It’s me. It’s Luke.”
She scrambled to the other side of the bed, those familiar-unfamiliar features twisting with confusion. In the low light, she looked...haunted.
“Luke. What are you...?” Her blue eyes widened and he watched memory click back. “Oh.”
“You had a bad dream. You were crying in your sleep.”
“Was I?” She blinked, obviously trying to make sense of the last few moments. She pulled the blanket to her shoulders like a shield, becoming guarded once more. “What...what did I say?”
“You begged me not to hurt you. And you also said you were Elizabeth. Not Sonia.”
“I would say...I’m a little of both now.”
“You also said something about being trapped. It sounded pretty frightening. What did you mean?”
She looked away, focusing on the banal artwork in the room. “Nothing. I was rambling in my sleep, I suppose. You know how...dreams can be.” She swallowed. “What time is it? Has the weather cleared?”
His jaw worked, aware she was trying to avoid the questions. She didn’t want to talk about the nightmare or about what her subconscious may have revealed.
Since he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready to hear her answers, he decided to let her change the subject. “A little after four. The snow had eased a little when I went to sleep around midnight. I’ll take a look.”
Though the room was carpeted, the floor was still cold on his bare feet as he slid out of bed and walked to the window. Dawn was still a few hours away. The storm had dropped several more inches since midnight but it looked as if the winds had died down. With luck, crews had been hard at work in the early hours clearing the freeway and they could get on their way at first light.
Good. He wasn’t sure he could take another night, trapped in a hotel room with her.
“It’s still too early to take off again. We should try to catch a few more hours, then get an early start.”
“All right. I’m...sorry I woke you.”
He thought about telling her she’d been giving him sleepless nights for seven years but didn’t want to admit that to her.
“Good night,” he answered, then climbed back into bed, rolled to face the wall and tried to do the impossible—put her out of his mind long enough to slip back into sleep.
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