Wicked in Love

Chapter 33 - always been

Kara

"Cam, wake up."

Cameron opened his eyes. His breaths were fast and shallow, as though he was running from a monster chasing him. Maybe he was.

It had been over a year, but this scene was so familiar to me it felt like it just happened yesterday. The realization that he was still suffering from his nightmares twisted my heart. Had they never left? Something was still haunting him.

Instead of turning away from me and getting out of bed like he usually did before, instead of going off somewhere by himself until he felt calmer, he did something unexpected. He gathered me in his arms, pressing me against him, burying his face in my hair. My arms automatically wrapped around him.

"Kara."

I could hear the relief in the huskiness of his voice, hear the pounding of his heart against his chest, feel the coldness of his skin. I pressed him closer, willing the coldness in his bones to dissipate. I'd take it if I could. 

"You were having a bad dream," I said.

His arms tightened around me. Soon his heartbeat started to even out, his breathing steadier.

"I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Don't be. I can't believe you still have them. Have they stopped at all?"

"Sometimes."

He kissed the top of my head, then pulled away and got out of bed. He turned the lights on in the kitchen, dimmed them. I sat at the edge of the bed, and feeling the chill in the air, grabbed the duvet, and put it around me.

Shirtless and only in his grey sweatpants, I watched him take a glass from the cupboard, fill it with water from the tap and drink.

"Would you like some?" he asked.

I shook my head.

Silently he crossed to the fireplace, throwing logs in, stoking the fire back to life. He stayed crouched in front of it for a moment, and I knew he was lost in his thoughts.

"I need to tell you something," he said after a moment. "More than what I had already told you."

There was a heaviness in his tone that made me nervous, made me straighten my spine. "Okay."

He rose, grabbed his shirt hanging on the back of the chair and put it on. Then he walked closer and stood in front of me, lowered his head so that he was looking at me. I looked up at him, waiting.

His dark hair slid down to caress his cheek. The fire behind him created dancing shadows on the walls, striking the beauty of his face, but hiding the look in his eyes. I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

Then he knelt, his arms going around my hips, pressing the side of his face on my lap. I loved when he did this. It showed that he was willing to be vulnerable in front of me.

I caressed his head, burying my fingers in the softness of his dark hair. "Cam, what is it?"

"I don't want to lose you again."

"I'm right here. I want to be here with you. I always do."

He took a deep breath. "I remember the nightmare."

My heart pounded. He never did before, and if he did, he'd never told me. His nightmares had always worried me deeply. I suspected they could be about Pete, his childhood friend who died in the maze. Cameron had witnessed his death. How do you forget something like that? Impossible.

Then again, it was possible that the nightmares could be something else entirely. But what could they be about? One thing for sure, I knew it had something to do with his monster of a mother.