If You Were Ours

Chapter Sixty Seven - Kinsley

Kinsley ~

We had been asleep for a few hours when I felt Tyson start to jump and twitch in his sleep. He was restless and mumbling something inaudible in his sleep.

"Tyson wake up." I said softly, but my words clearly hadn't touched his ears.

"Tyson." I said a bit louder, reaching out toward his arm gently.

He was covered in sweat and was breathing heavily, completely unfazed by my attempts to wake him.

This is more than just a little nightmare.

I shot up in bed, trying to focus through the darkness at his tensed body that was starting to thrash.

Dane had warned me about Tyson's night terrors, but I'd never witnessed one this bad before. I was told not to try to wake him by shaking him so I sat up, trying to keep him from hurting himself instead.

I took hold of his massive hand and pulled it up toward my chest, holding it tightly as Tyson internally struggled. It was difficult to watch, knowing how many awful things Tyson had witnessed in his life. I could only imagine what type of trauma he was reliving at the moment and it tore me apart.

Please wake up, please wake up, please wake up.

Suddenly his entire body jolted upward to a seated position, huffing air with panicked breaths as his eyes opened and scanned the room.

As soon as I realized he was awake, I immediately made my presence known so I didn't startle him any more than he already was.

"You're okay, it's just you and me here." I said softly, holding his hand in mine as he swiveled his head in my direction.

It was taking him a few seconds to survey his surroundings and ground himself in the present, so I reached out and ran my hand up and down his back, feeling his flexed knotted muscles.

"Shhhh." I soothed as his eyes adjusted and fixated on my face.

"Everything's okay." I reassured him, reaching up and cupping the sides of his face, rubbing my thumbs up and down his cheeks.

To my surprise he leaned into my hands and closed his eyes, willing himself to relax and come down off of his misplaced adrenaline high.

There you go big guy, calm down.

"Fuck. I'm sorry." He said, running his hand through his hair and wiping beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.

"Nothing to be sorry for."

Tyson sat that way for a while, trying to regain his self control and fight back whatever horrible memory had triggered his night terror.

"Want to talk about it?" I asked quietly.

"No." His answer was harsh and immediate as he dropped himself back down onto his pillow, clearly irritated with the situation.

That's what I figured. Worth a shot I guess.

"Will you at least let me help you go back to sleep?"

"How the hell would you do that?" He asked in a skeptical, irritated voice.

So little faith in my abilities. I know you like the back of my hand Tyson Santoro.

"Come here." I said with a grin, waving him over and patting my own chest, inviting him to lay across me.

I positioned him where I wanted him - laying on his stomach with his head resting on my chest, almost on top of me, but not quite.

It was obvious that he wasn't thrilled about taking orders from me, keeping his scowl fully intact as he reluctantly laid against me.