Chapter Fifty-One
Raine
I wake to a rush of air over my skin. A harsh stream, sliding over my bare shoulder, my arm, my cheek.
It’s too much. Too rough. Too focused for my brain to make sense of it.
My breath catches in my throat. I fumble for the blanket, trying to draw it over my body before the panic swallows me whole, but it’s caught under me.
The edges of the room blur. Asher’s arm is draped over my hip, heavy in a way that should ground me. But trapped by the sheets and the blanket that won’t move, combined with the air abraiding my skin…it’s too much.
A whimper slips from my throat before I can swallow it back.
He’s awake in an instant. “Raine?”
“Can’t—” The word is too thin, the raw edges of it threatening to slice me into pieces.
My entire body is buzzing, my nerves firing warnings that don’t belong here. Not with him.
“I’ve got you,” he says, his voice close to my ear. “What is it?”
“Vent,” I manage.
“Fuck.”
He drapes his side of the blanket over me, then rolls out of bed. Naked, he stalks over to the thermostat on the wall, and though everything’s still fuzzy and muted, like I’m deep under water, I think he snarls at it.
He jabs the screen. “It’s off. Why the fuck is it still blowing?”
My teeth ache from clenching my jaw. I can’t move, can’t even press my heels into the mattress. My whole world narrows to the way the air drags over my skin.
Asher slides a chair over to the wall, climbs up on it, and slams the vent shut.
The air finally stops. My breath stutters, catches again, but it doesn’t slip as far this time.
Climbing back in bed, Asher turns onto his side so he’s facing me. He doesn’t pull me closer. Doesn’t make a move to take the blanket back. Just holds my gaze as he murmurs, “Breathe with me.”
I press my forehead into the warm curve of his neck, and his hand settles between my shoulder blades. Not heavy. Just…there.
I match him with my third breath. Miss the fourth. Find the fifth.
My body starts to relax until the panic fades into something I can manage. “Back,” I whisper. “Here.”
“I know,” he says. “But I’m still not going anywhere.”
I stay tucked against him until my breathing evens out. Until the last of the cold memory drains from my skin. Eventually, exhaustion starts to pull me under, and I settle a little closer.
So does he.