Entwined With You

talking about my sex life?” I muttered, looking to Trey for a little support.
    He jumped in. “Cary tells me you two are going to a video premiere tomorrow. I didn’t realize music videos were a big thing anymore.”
    I grasped at the lifeline gratefully. “I know, right? Surprises me, too.”
    “And then there’s good ol’ Brett,” Cary said, leaning across the table toward Megumi like he was about to impart a secret. “We’ll call him backstage man. Or backseat man.”
    I stuck my fingers in my glass and flicked water at him.
    “Why, Eva. You’re making me wet.”
    “Keep it up,” I warned,” and you’ll be soaked.”
    I still hadn’t heard from Gideon by the time we got home at quarter to ten. Megumi had taken the subway back to her place, while Cary, Trey, and I shared a cab back to the apartment. The guys headed straight toCary’s room, but I lingered in the kitchen, debating whether I should run next door and see if Gideon was there.
    I was about to pull my keys out of my purse when Cary came into the kitchen, shirtless and barefoot.
    He grabbed whipped cream out of the fridge but paused before he headed back out. “You okay?”
    “Yep, I’m good.”
    “You talk to your mom yet?”
    “No, but I’m planning on it.”
    He leaned his hip against the counter. “Anything else on your mind?”
    I shooed him off. “Go have fun. I’m all right. We can talk tomorrow.”
    “About that. What time should I be ready?”
    “Brett wants to pick us up at five, so can you meet me at the Crossfire?”
    “No problem.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Sweet dreams, baby girl.”
    I waited until I heard Cary’s door shut, then grabbed my keys and went next door. The moment I entered the dark and quiet apartment, I knew Gideon wasn’t there, but I searched the rooms anyway. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was … off.
    Where was he?
    Deciding to call Angus, I walked back to my apartment, grabbed the burner phone, and took it into my bedroom.
    And found Gideon gripped in a nightmare.
    Startled, I shoved my door shut and locked it. He thrashed on my bed, his back arching with a hiss of pain. He was still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, his big body stretched atop the comforter as if he’d fallen asleep waiting for me. His laptop had been knocked to the floor, still open, and papers were crackling under the violence of his movements.
    Irushed to him, trying to figure out a way to wake him that wouldn’t put me in danger, knowing he’d hate himself if he hurt me by accident.
    He growled, a low feral sound of aggression. “Never,” he bit out. “You’ll
never
touch her again.”
    I froze.
    His body jerked violently, and then he moaned and curled to his side, shuddering.
    The sound of his pain galvanized me. I climbed onto the bed, my hand touching his shoulder. The next moment I was on my back, pinned as he loomed over me, his eyes fixed and sightless. Fear paralyzed me.
    “You’re going to know what it feels like,” he whispered darkly, his hips ramming against mine in a sick imitation of the love we shared.
    I turned my head and bit his biceps, my teeth barely denting the rigid muscle.
    “Fuck!” He yanked away from me and I dislodged him as Parker had taught me to do, throwing him to the side and freeing myself to leap from the bed and run.
    “Eva!”
    Spinning, I faced him, my body poised to fight.
    He slid from the bed, nearly landing on his knees before he found his balance and straightened. “I’m sorry. I fell asleep … Christ, I’m sorry.”
    “I’m fine,” I said, with forced calm. “Relax.”
    He raked a hand through his hair, his chest heaving. His face was sheened with sweat, his eyes reddened. “God.”
    I stepped closer, fighting the lingering fear. This was part of our lives. We both had to face it. “Do you remember the dream?”
    Gideon swallowed hard and shook his head.
    “I don’t believe you.”
    “Damn it. You have to—”
    “Youwere dreaming about Nathan. How often do you do that?” I reached him and took his hand.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Don’t lie to me.”
    “I’m not!” he snapped, bristling. “I rarely remember my dreams.”
    I pulled him toward the bathroom, deliberately keeping him moving forward both physically and mentally. “The detectives came to see me today.”
    “I know.”
    The hoarseness of his voice concerned me. How long had he been asleep and dreaming? The thought of him tormented by