Lila

In the way that dreams can be, somehow she knew it was a dream, and yet didn't. When she opened her eyes and Dane stood in the doorway, her heart hammered against her ribs, and started crying, reaching for him. He rushed to her side at the bed—she couldn't get up. Why couldn't she get up? Her body hurt, but she didn't care, because Dane was there, his dark hair falling over his eyes like he'd been clawing his hands through it, his eyes shadowed with deep circles like he hadn't slept. He wasn't taking care of himself and she was afraid he would make a mistake and it would get him killed, but she couldn't remember why.

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His eyes traced her entire body, and his hands followed quickly, at first just checking her for injuries. She cried out when he touched her arm, and her side and he frowned.

But then his touch softened.

He picked her up in that effortless way she loved and sat down with her in his lap, holding her, kissing her neck, praying her name.

She kissed him back at first, but she hurt. She hurt a lot, and the way he was touching her.

"Dane," she gasped, opening her eyes from a wince. "I can't… not right now. It hurts too much."

"Please, Lila. Please."

"I'm scared," she said and tears rolled over her lashes. He kissed them away, one by one. But he didn't stop touching her. Didn't stop demanding her. "Can't we just hold each other? I need you close, Dane. Please."

"There's no getting closer than this, Lila."

"I know, but—" she cried out when his hand squeezed her sore side. "What are you doing? Why are you being so rough?" He was never like that—even when he was desperate, he was always so careful with her.

"Because, Lila, this is what you're here for."

"What?" she asked, her voice becoming very small.

Dane looked down at her, panting, his eyes dark. "This is why I married you. What I wanted you for. Did you really think someone like me just… liked you?" He dove into her neck again and she tried to pull away. But his arms were so strong, and his hands were so big. Every time she started to get one out of her hair, or off her limb, he just took her with the other.

"Dane! Stop! Please!" she cried.

"If I stop, I'm gone forever," he said in a low, hard voice. "This is what I want from you. If you can't give it…" He let the threat trail off, but his tongue snaked out to slide up the shell of her ear in a move that normally gave her goosebumps, but this time gave her the wrong kind of shivers. She clung to his chest, pleading with him to just hold her, to just be there, to help her feel safe. But when she wouldn't have sex with him, he turned.

He began fighting her off—peeling her hands from his clothes and pushing her to the bed. "No, no, Lila, this is the way it has to be."

A voice in her head echoed that this wasn't him. That this was a dream. But his eyes… and that tone in his voice. That cold, emotionless tone that he took whenever he was traumatized… it all added up to her heart flailing for him, terrified. He was going to leave, and his father was going to come back, and he wouldn't save her.

"Dane! Please!" she screamed.

But he dumped her back on the bed and snarled at her over his shoulder, "I've been trying to tell you for months, but you wouldn't believe me. Stop making me out to be something I'm not. This is me, Lila. Take it or leave it."

He started for the door, and in the way of dreams, kept walking further and further from her, always getting closer to the door, but never disappearing through it. And he didn't look back. She tried to get up to follow him, but somehow she was tied to the bed and she couldn't move.

"Dane! DANE!"

He never looked back, no matter how she screamed, or pleaded with him. She pulled at the bonds on her wrists and ankles, but they just got tighter.

When he finally reached the door, he paused and turned around and her breath stopped—had he finally heard her? Was he finally going to help?

But he looked at her with cold eyes, narrowed, and hissed, "If you can't give me what I want, you need to let me go." Then he walked through the door, slamming it behind him.

Lila woke up crying.

And naked.

She trembled, remembering where she was. The room looked eerie in the dark and she tried to sit up, but her side and arm hurt so badly it stopped her breath. She froze, trying desperately to heave in oxygen without expanding her ribs, breathing shallow and quick, her tears making it even harder because she couldn't breathe through her nose.

She closed her eyes against the picture of this dark and frightening room, and instead, focused on Dane. The real Dane. The Dane who looked at her like she lit the sun. The one who was willing to move hell or high water to keep her safe. The one who held back his own pleasure until she'd had hers.

The one who kissed her so desperately when he was afraid.

Who touched her so deliciously when he wanted her.

The one who smiled when she woke up.

Her mind's eye full of his eyes, and his hands, and his voice, Lila tugged the thin blanket over her body as best she could and cried into her hands.

And through it all, the Dane in her mind stroked her hair, and whispered his love to her, renewed his vows to love her forever, brushed away her tears with his thumbs, and swallowed them with his kisses. Until finally, hours later, she fell asleep again.