Oleander by Becca Jameson

Author:Becca Jameson [Jameson, Becca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Becca Jameson Publishing

Chapter Eleven

Jagger gently shook Kally’s shoulder. He didn’t want to startle her, but she was having a nightmare. She’d been thrashing and moaning for a few minutes. He’d tried to hold her steady and wait it out, hoping it would fade away and she might not remember it, but then she screamed.

Her entire body changed as she continued to scream. She stiffened. She parted her legs almost a foot and flattened her hands on her thighs over her leggings. Her fingertips dug into her muscles.

When she arched her head back and lifted her chest off the bed, he really began to worry. It was almost like she was having a seizure, except he’d seen seizures before. This was different. It was a nightmare. She was trapped in it.

“Kalinda,” he called out as he flattened his arm over both of hers, not wanting her to hurt herself. He didn’t care if she ended up socking him in the eye, but he was worried she might injure herself the way she was thrashing around. “Kally,” he called out louder.

Suddenly, her eyes bolted open. She squinted at the ceiling and then jerked her gaze to him. Crazed. Lost. Confused. She gasped and then started panting.

“Kally, it’s me, Jagger. You’re in my house. You’re safe.” He tried to hold her gaze, but she wasn’t seeing him. She was seeing something else entirely.

Her eyes were wide with fear and frustration. Then she blinked several times and started violently shaking. He recognized the moment she came back into herself.

She rolled to her side away from him and curled into a tight ball, pulling her knees high toward her chest and hugging her legs close with both hands. She rocked and whimpered.

“Honey…” He was at a loss. He had no skill in this arena. All he could do was touch her shoulder and reassure her with his words.

“It hurts,” she moaned almost imperceptibly.

“What hurts, honey? Tell me.”

She curled into herself tighter, scaring him. Her face pushed into the pillow, and she screamed again, this time awake. It had a different tone—frustration. The first scream had been more violent, murderous.

“I’m right here, honey. I haven’t moved,” he informed her as if this might placate her. He kept one hand on her shoulder, stroking gently but not touching her more than necessary. He got the feeling that every inch of her skin was crawling as if she’d been dreaming about being confined in a tank of scorpions.

It took several minutes for her breathing to slow and her rocking to ease. She didn’t move or look at him, but at least the worst seemed to have passed.

“What can I do, honey? Would you like me to get you some water? Run a bath? Leave you alone?”

Abruptly, she rolled to her back and faced him. Her legs were still pulled up tight, her arms around her shins. “I need to orgasm,” she blurted.

Jagger’s eyebrows must have shot clear off his face to the ceiling. That’s how it felt to him. He swallowed.

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