Chapter 6: The First Nightmare
The walk back to the house was slow, quiet. Kael felt hollowed out but clean, like a storm had passed through him and left everything washed in its wake. He could still feel the imprint of Darian’s heartbeat against his palms. Elise met them at the back porch, her bright eyes taking in their linked hands, Kael’s puffy eyes, and Darian’s protective nearness. She didn’t ask. She just handed Kael a perfectly browned s’more on a plate, the marshmallow still gooey.
“Saved you the best one,” she said, and the normalcy of it was a gift.
He ate it, the sweetness almost overwhelming, while Darian spoke in a low rumble with his father by the firepit. Kael caught the old alpha’s glance, a nod of approval, before the man clapped Darian on the shoulder. No one else approached. The pack gave them space, the conversation flowing around them like water around a stone.
Later, in the penthouse elevator soaring up above the city lights, the exhaustion hit Kael like a physical weight. He sagged against the wall, eyelids heavy.
“You’re wiped out,” Darian said, his hand finding the small of Kael’s back.
“Mhm.” It was all he could manage.
The penthouse was dark and still. Darian didn’t turn on the overheads, just led him by hand through the familiar space to the master bedroom. A soft, golden glow came from the lanterns on the bedside tables, casting the room in deep, velvety shadow. The bed was a massive, inviting expanse of linen and piled blankets. The balcony doors were open just a crack, and the cool night air carried the distant hum of the city, a sound that had once felt alien but now just was.
“Go ahead and get ready,” Darian said, his voice a quiet murmur. “I’ll be right here.”
In the bathroom, Kael brushed his teeth, his movements automatic. His reflection in the mirror looked younger, softer around the edges. The fear that usually pinched his features was absent, leaving just tiredness. He changed into the soft sweatpants and t-shirt left out for him—Darian’s, always too big, the fabric smelling like pine and clean cotton.
When he padded back into the bedroom, Darian was already in bed, propped against the headboard, scrolling through something on his phone. He looked up, set the phone aside, and lifted the covers in silent invitation.
Kael slipped in. The sheets were warm from Darian’s body, the mattress yielding. He lay on his side, facing the center of the bed, watching Darian settle down beside him, turning to face him. The space between them was inches, a canyon Kael didn’t have the energy to cross.
“Get some sleep,” Darian whispered.
Kael nodded, closing his eyes. The last thing he was aware of was the gentle rasp of Darian’s thumb stroking over his knuckle where their hands lay between them on the pillow.
The dream wasn’t a memory. It was worse. It was sensations.
The smell of moldering concrete and stale urine. The bite of zip-ties against his wrists, not as memory, but as a present, screaming reality. The sound of laughter, warped and echoing, from voices he almost recognized. He was back in the warehouse, but it was also the shed behind the false family’s house, and the floor was both dirt and cold linoleum. He was scrabbling backwards, his breath coming in whistling gasps, and a shadow loomed over him—faceless, but he knew its intentions in his marrow.
He jolted awake with a choked-off cry, the sound ripped from his throat. He was sitting bolt upright, gasping, the sheets tangled around his legs. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. His heart was a frantic, trapped bird in his chest.
“Kael.” A voice, immediate and solid. “Look at me.”
He couldn’t. His eyes darted around the dark room, seeing not the soft lantern light but the jagged outlines of crates. He was there. He was still there.
Then hands, firm and warm, cupped his face. They forced his gaze away from the phantom shadows and held it.
Darian was right there, his storm-grey eyes clear and awake, reflecting the faint gold light. No trace of sleep. “Breathe. You’re in the penthouse. You’re in our bed. It’s three-forty-two in the morning. You’re safe.”
Kael tried to pull in air. It hitched, broken.
“Match me,” Darian said, his voice low and steady, an unshakable command. He took an exaggerated, slow breath in through his nose, his chest expanding. Held it for a count. Let it out through his mouth, long and controlled.
Kael’s lungs burned. He tried to mimic it, the inhale shuddering.
“Again,” Darian said, and repeated the breath.
They did it again. And again. On the fourth cycle, the vise around Kael’s ribs loosened enough for a full gulp of air. The dark room began to resolve into its real shapes: the dresser, the open balcony door, the rumpled sheets. Not a warehouse. A bedroom. Their bedroom.
A violent tremor wracked him, the aftermath of the adrenaline dump. He shuddered so hard his teeth clicked.
“Okay,” Darian murmured, his hands sliding from Kael’s face to pull him in. He wrapped his arms around him, one hand cradling the back of his head, tucking him firmly against his chest. “Let it shake. It’s just your body catching up. I’ve got you.”
Kael buried his face in the hollow of Darian’s throat, inhaling the scent of pine and storm. It overpowered the phantom stench of the dream. He clung to him, his fingers gripping the fabric of Darian’s shirt. The trembling was less now, subsiding into intermittent shivers.
“I’m sorry,” Kael whispered, the words muffled against skin.
“Stop,” Darian said, no heat in it. Just fact. His hand moved in slow, relentless circles on Kael’s back. “It was a nightmare. It doesn’t require an apology.”
They sat like that for long minutes, until Kael’s breathing was his own again, until his heart no longer threatened to punch through his ribs. Darian didn’t loosen his hold.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Darian asked finally, his lips against Kael’s hair.
Kael shook his head. “Just… the usual stuff. Smells. Feelings. Not even real events, just… the feeling of it.”
“That can be worse.”
“Yeah.”
Darian shifted them down, slowly, until they were lying facing each other again, but this time Darian kept an arm around him, pulling him close so Kael’s forehead rested against his collarbone. The physical anchor was everything.
“I have a thing,” Darian said into the quiet. “A trick, for when my mind won’t shut off. Want me to show you?”
Kael nodded, a small movement.
“It’s just breathing, but with a focus. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. The numbers force your brain to pay attention to the count, not the noise. Ready?”
They did it together in the dark. Darian counted softly, his voice a steady rhythm in the room. “In, two, three, four… hold, two, three, four, five, six, seven… out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”
It was strangely difficult. Kael’s mind kept slipping off the numbers, skittering back toward the lingering dread. But Darian’s voice kept reeling him back. On the fifth cycle, a profound heaviness began to seep into his limbs.
“It’s working,” he slurred, surprise cutting through the fatigue.
“Told you,” Darian said, a smile in his voice. He didn’t stop the count.
On the eighth cycle, Kael was sinking, the bed feeling like it was gently swallowing him. The safe, warm, Darian-scented dark was all that existed.
“Darian?” he whispered.
“Right here.”
“I don’t think… I’ve ever slept through the night. Not once I presented. Not in that house. I was always listening.”
The hand on his back stilled for a second, then resumed its soothing motion. “You can listen to my heartbeat instead,” Darian said. His voice was thick. “It’s not going anywhere. And I’ll be right here, listening for both of us.”
The promise was too big to hold. Kael just let it wash over him. He was already half-gone, lulled by the metronome of that strong, steady heart under his ear.
“You should sleep too,” Kael mumbled.
“I will. Soon.”
But Kael knew, as consciousness finally released him, that Darian would stay awake. That he would keep watch, a silent sentinel in the golden dark, ensuring the nightmares kept their distance. It was a kind of devotion that left no room for doubt.
When Kael’s breathing evened out completely, deepened into the rhythms of true sleep, Darian finally let his own eyes close. He didn’t move, keeping Kael secured against him.
The first hint of dawn, a pale grey light, began to outline the balcony doors. In the bed, their scents had finally mingled into one tranquil signature: lavender, rain, pine, and deep, undisturbed peace.