Reign (Riders of Apollo #1)

Chapter 40: Roman Hayes

I wake up before Peyton for once as she snoozes gently on my pillow. Her entire body, every nook and crevice, is pressed against me as her head rests under my neck. I'm able to detangle myself from her vine-like grip and I brush her curls away from her face.

I feel like shit so I slip out of the bed and into the bathroom, showering intensely and trying to rid myself of the alcohol smell. After three applications of shower gel it finally dissipates and I'm able to move on to brushing my teeth - which I do a lot of since my mouth is drier than the fucking desert - before applying some cologne and drying off my hair with a towel.

I walk back into the bedroom with my towel wrapped around my waist, expecting to find Peyton still asleep. But she's sat up straight, eyes flickering across the room in panic. I can see her shaking from here and her breathing gets heavier the longer she looks around. "Baby?" Her eyes swiftly land on me and she takes off from the bed and into my arms.

As I wrap my arms around her and pull me into my chest, tight enough to suffocate her, I can feel her shaking like a leaf. I coo her as I stroke her back and arms, kissing her head and cheeks to try and provide some comfort to the vulnerable woman in my arms. It's similar to the attack she had on the back of my bike, though the tears that are dampening my skin are a new occurrence.

"I need you to take deep breaths, okay? Feel me breathing and try to copy me." After a few minutes of slow breathing, I'm able to get her calm enough to lead her back to the bed and settle her on the edge while I kneel between her legs. She reattaches herself to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist with her face buried in my shoulder. "What's gotten you so worked up, love?"

"I had - had a dream where you died - you died." She hiccups, wiping a few tears away. "I couldn't handle it if you died, Roman. I - I - I can't. You can't do that to me, you have to promise me." Her nails dig into my biceps as her breathing speeds up again. God this dream really got to her. I don't know whether this just fed into her anxiety or if it started it so I tighten my grip on her and whisper sweet nothings in her ear, hoping to calm her heart rate that slams viciously against my chest.

"Hey, feel my heart. I'm still here, it was just a dream. I'm not leaving you." I place her tiny hand on my heart beat and she sighs softly, her eyes are still teary and her breathing is still uneven but it computes in her mind that I am okay.

"I knew this would happen. I thought - thought I had avoided it this time but I really didn't."

"What do you mean, baby?"

"March 8th," That's two days away, I give her a look of confusion, not knowing the meaning of the date. Her birthday is in December so it's not that, she doesn't know that much about her family so I don't understand. "It's the date I escaped and every year I have an episode, I shut down for like a week - a whole week and I never know what to do. I thought it - it wouldn't happen when I got back last night because the weird sick feeling went away but when I woke up and you - you weren't there..." She trails off, staring at the hand that is still resting on my heart beat. "It's not like normal though, I figure it's because where I am is different and I have people - people that care about me and want to make sure I'm okay. I'm not okay, Roman and I need you to know that I'm not doing this on purpose."

"I know, honey. I know you have PTSD and that you're remembering everything that they did to you but we are here. I am here. To help you. I will spent the rest of my life making sure that you are okay and when you're not we'll find a way to make you feel better. I love you, no matter what. I'm not leaving, I'm not angry and I will help in any way that I can."

"I love you, more than anything." I kiss her gently, hoping to take away a little bit more of the fear that racks her body. This woman carries the fucking world on these shoulders and she needs someone to take some of the load, that's what I'm here for. "I'll probably be extra clingy and my emotional state will be fragile."

"You know a lot about this."

"I had a therapist for two years, she helped a lot. She said I could stop seeing her as long as I call her every once in awhile, especially when I feel an episode coming on so I'll call her later and tell her that I'm not feeling great but that I have you." Just as I go to kiss her again, Prez knocks on the door and declares that we have Church in thirty minutes. "I should get ready." She slips from my embrace and into the shower.

I grab a pair of black jeans with a white v-neck and some combat boots before pulling on my cut and slipping my weapons into their holsters. I rub my face, still feeling a little upset from our conversation. I want to help her, more than I want to breathe but I have to be patient. Pushing her won't benefit either of us.

She comes out of the bathroom and walks towards my dresser and grabs her jeans off the floor. She digs around for a bit in one of the drawers before she finds a shirt that suits her liking and throws it on over her red lace bra - which is my favourite by the way. She ties the shirt in the front since it is way too big for her before she throws the rest of her stuff into her bag and puts her cut on.

I grab her by the chain hanging from her belt and yank her back to me. "I love you." I whisper huskily, my lips brushing her skin in a way that makes her shiver.

"I love you." She grabs my hand and tugs me from the room, which is when I catch a glimpse of the knife strapped to her back and the gun in her waistband.

Damn, she's perfect.