Ace hadn't moved from his chair. He sat in silence, his gaze fixed on the woman in his bed.
Alexandrea's sleep was not peaceful. She tossed fitfully, her body twitching, a low whimper escaping her lips.
She began to mumble, her words slurred and indistinct.
Ace leaned closer, straining to hear.
"...no... please, don't..."
His jaw tightened. She was reliving it. Reliving the horror that had been carved into her skin. He fought the urge to wake her, to pull her from the memories that haunted her even in sleep.
Then, she cried out a name, her voice suddenly clear and sharp with desperation.
"Nolan... save me... Nolan..."
Nolan.
The name hit Ace like a physical blow. His eyes narrowed.
Who was Nolan? A friend? A brother? A lover?
A cold, unfamiliar tendril of possessiveness-of jealousy-curled in his gut.
He immediately took out his phone, his thumb moving swiftly across the screen, sending a text to Giles.
Find out everything you can about a man named Nolan connected to Alexandrea Terry.
Just as he hit send, he saw her eyelashes flutter.
Slowly, groggily, Alexandrea's eyes opened.
Her vision was blurry at first. She blinked, the soft light of the lamp a gentle intrusion. The first thing she registered was the ceiling-high, white, and unfamiliar.
The second was the powerful presence beside her.
She turned her head, her movements stiff.
Her breath caught in her throat. Ace was sitting there, watching her, his gray eyes intense and unreadable in the dim light.
The memories came rushing back in a tidal wave. The hotel. The trap. Ivette's vicious words. This man's shocking defense. And then... the sharp pain in her neck before everything went black.
She scrambled up, pushing herself back against the headboard, a cornered animal seeking refuge.
"Where am I?" Her voice was a dry, raspy croak.
"My apartment," Ace answered simply, his voice calm and even, betraying none of the jealousy that had gripped him moments before.
Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the understated luxury that screamed of old money. He was telling the truth.
She looked down and realized she was wearing a silk nightgown, not her torn dress. A flush of heat crept up her neck, a mixture of embarrassment and a new spike of fear.
"What did you do to me?" she demanded, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound strong.
"You were hurt," he said, his tone still level. "I brought a doctor to see you. A female doctor. She changed your clothes and treated your injuries. Nothing more."
The straightforward explanation, delivered without a hint of threat, eased the worst of her panic. Her shoulders sagged with a tiny bit of relief.
He watched her process this, letting the silence stretch for a moment before he spoke again, his voice dropping slightly, becoming more serious.
"You were having a nightmare," he stated, his gaze piercing. "You called out a name." He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "Nolan."
The question, reframed as an observation, still threw her completely off balance. How could he possibly know that name? Had she said it out loud?
The name itself was a key, unlocking a part of her heart she kept sealed away. Her defensive posture faltered, her eyes clouding over with a deep, ancient sadness.
She didn't answer him. She just hugged her knees to her chest, pulling the blankets tighter around herself, a silent retreat into a world he couldn't enter.
