𝗣 𝗬 𝗥 𝗢 𝗠 𝗔 𝗡 𝗜 𝗔 | BOOK THREE

T H I R T Y - S I X

[jolene hale]

"No!" A scream echoes through the wall. "Let me go!"

I sit up, looking at my bedside clock. 2:13 am.

"Stop!" Another scream echoes through the wall.

I pull back the blankets, climbing out of bed. I exit my room, walking down the hall to Graham's room.The muffled screaming is louder now as I stand on the other side of his bedroom door. I grab the door knob and exhale. I open the door and walk inside. He lay on his back, shirtless, his sheets tangled around him. His skin glistens with perspiration and I slowly approach him. He arches his back and grabs the bed sheet with white-knuckled fists, a loud scream escaping his lips. The scream is loud and shrill, bouncing off the hardwood floor. His body twists and contorts on the mattress, writhing almost as if he's in pain. Another scream echoes out and I grab hold of her shoulders, shaking him gently.

"Graham," I say softly, trying not to startle him any more.

It doesn't work, instead he trembles in my hands, the nightmare holding onto him firmly. I shake him firmly, furrowing my brows.

"Graham! Graham, wake up." I say. "It's just a Dream. Wake up!"

He sits up, gasping for air. I release his shoulders and watch him. He looks at his hands then reaches back to feel his shoulders.

"Graham?" I ask quietly.

He jumps, looking at me. His eyes are bloodshot and red, swollen. He exhales sharply, looking back at his hands. I take his hand in my own, an eyebrow raised.

"It was only a dream." I say. "You're alright."

Graham usually has nightmares, some talking maybe, a groan here and there, maybe some hyperventilation, but never like this. This was full blown. Although he's covered in sweat, the goosebumps on his body are an obvious sign that it's a cold sweat. His hair sticks to his forehead, almost as if he had a high-grade fever and was trying to fight it off. He huffs out sharply, staring at his hands.

"Graham," I whisper, making him look up at me. "Are you alright?"

His eyes are red, bloodshot and exhausted. He swallows sharply, and huffs and puffs as he looks at me.

"You know that I will never hurt you, right?" He asks, his voice raspy from all of the screaming.

I furrow my eyebrows and nod slowly. He reaches forward, his hand palm up, an eyebrow raised. I reach forward and place my hand in his own.

"Everything in me is dying to keep you safe," He says. "I physically cannot hurt you. If I ever did, I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

He exhales sharply and I'm aware of the way his hands tremble as they hold onto my own.

"Graham, it's okay. It was just a Dream." I whisper, watching his eyes.

He shakes his head and exhales sharply, a cold breath passing his lips before he inhales again, a wheeze sound escaping his lips.

"The ripped open flesh and hot blood dripping down my back no longer exists and the burn on the palm of my hand doesn't either, but I can still feel it. And, sure, it may have been a dream, but it was what I feared worst in life. I cannot hurt you." He says.

I lean forward and climb into his lap, straddling his hips. I take his face in my hands and lean towards him. He has a particular scent, an intoxicating scent. He smells of sweat, obvious because of the cold sweat he woke up in. But he also smells of something else, something specific and distinct. He smells like a library, the pages of old books pressed together tightly, squeezed between a library shelf and even more books. He also smells of musk, similar to a teakwood or driftwood, and something sweet—an apple, like a Macintosh. His scent is particularly sophisticated and pleasurable. Although the scent of old books, sweat, musk, and apples might not sound pleasant, when the creator of such a scent holds you in his arms as you sit in his lap, it's intoxicating. Usually, Graham is the one initiating the kiss, but this time, I am. I'm acutely aware of the stubble on his face. He shaved yesterday morning, and the stubble is now growing in. His hands trail from my waist, around to my back, stopping at my upper back. I can feel his heartbeat in his fingertips, but all I can hear in my own. His warm breath dances across my cheek as I lean towards his lips, pressing mine to his. Heat rises from the pit of my stomach up into my chest, clouding my head. A particular bravery takes hold in my chest, but only for a moment. I back away from his lips, just enough to be able to speak, my lips grazing against his with sparks.

"You aren't going to hurt me, Graham." I say softly, my index finger hooking behind his earlobe, the rest of my fingers resting on the back of his neck.

He pulls me closer to him and our lips touch again. My entire body tingles with a numb sensation, like his touch will spontaneously light me on fire. I curl my toes tightly, then uncurl them, and repeat the process. He tastes of mint, although that might be a remnant or his toothpaste from before he went to bed. The vanilla of my chapstick smiles with the mint and creates a concoction of sweet and tingly. His frame pressed against my own sends butterflies up from my stomach into my lungs, hitching my breath momentarily. I'm unaware of how swiftly my hands move, now pressed against his chest, trailing down to his stomach, pressing against the cut between two abs. The skin of his chest and abdomen is smooth, entirely hairless, and radiates a heat that warms the cold in my fingertips. Although my knees aren't fighting to hold me up as if I were standing or latched around his waist, they tremble as if they were. I love him. I really, truly love him, but kissing him makes me nervous.

"You're trembling," Graham says in between kissing me. "Are you afraid of me?"

I shake my head, smiling as I look up at him. His eyes are enticing, dark, almost-black, but in some lighting show the particularly striking blue shade he inherited from his father. His brother has the same eye color, but their sister inherited a much lighter shade of blue from her mother.

"No, I'm not afraid of you. It's just... Thinking of kissing you makes me very nervous. I never thought we would be in this situation, pressed against one another, kissing on your bed as I try my damndest to reassure you after a nightmare." I say, smiling at him. "But the fact that this could be my entire future excites me. You could be my future, Graham."

He smiles and pulls me close again, wrapping his arms around me tightly.

"Stay with me tonight?" He asks, an eyebrow raised at me. "Please don't leave me alone tonight."