Marriage Lynx by Fiona Quinn EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Fiona Quinn
- Language: English
- Genre: Psychic Suspense
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
EARLY MORNINGS WERE MY most coveted moments of sleep.
Throughout my nights, I tossed and turned and was startled by nightmares.
Come morning, perhaps out of sheer exhaustion, I can dive deeper into the
sleep cycle and glide beneath the tumult of my over-active brain.
Honestly, I don’t know how Striker gets any rest coming to bed with me
to sleep. I’ve suggested he make the guest bedroom his and that we visit
back and forth. But he stops me mid-sentence, holding up a hand and
saying, “No, I spent too many nights desperate for you to be in my arms.
Sleep in the room next door? That’s not happening.”
And so he puts up with my nighttime internal fights.
Sometimes, in the mornings, Striker will hold me and gently comb his
fingers through my hair. Those are the good dreams, the peaceful, “floating
on the river in the August sun” dreams. And I loved the luxury of slowly
surfacing into a new day. A blinking awareness. A moment when I can
piece my world back together: I’m in my bed on Silver Lake. I’m safe.
On other mornings, like this morning, I sensed Striker quietly climbing
from the bed, dragging on his running clothes in the bathroom, and tapping
his thigh to let Beetle and Bella know that, yes, he was taking them for a
run. They didn’t have to stomp and clatter their nails on the hardwood floor
in the hallway to make their point.
Waking up with a burst of go-juice was a Striker thing, definitely not a me
thing.
After Striker set the coffee up to perk, there was a slide-tap of the shutting
door and the catchunk of the lock tumbling into place.
The house settled into a deep stillness that became a weight, sinking me
deeper into restorative sleep.
And that was exactly where I was, deep in the depths of my subconscious
with an utter lack of awareness, when suddenly, a scream—a sustained high
note of desperation, shrill and echoing—shattered the peace from the front
of the house.
Lying cozy in bed one moment, sprung into midair, racing forward the
next. Fists balled, face fierce, anything—and I mean anything—that was
endangering my niece would feel the full explosion of my wrath.
Flicking on the light, head on a swivel, I found the soft pink walls and the
gentle billow of white sheers dancing with the vented air conditioning.
There was no enemy to doom.
My heart pounded so hard in my chest that it threw me off balance, and I
grabbed at the doorframe.
There, in the glare of the overhead light, Cammy knotted her thin limbs
into her unicorn sheets, her long black curls damp around a sweating face.
Beneath her lids, her eyeballs shot back and forth in REM. Her whole body
shivered as she fought whatever demon was rearing its ugly head.
I had years of experience on the sleeping side of a nightmare. I can’t say
I’ve ever been around someone else’s night terror. Though I wanted to
shake her and snap her into the present, I knew how disorienting that could
be.
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