Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven #1) by J.R. Ward

The groan was soft and far off, but it got her right to the vertical. Scurrying to her door, she ripped it open and leaned out.

That was when she heard the sound again. A low release of pain. From the guest room.

Rushing down the hall, the light from overhead shined into the space and fell on the bed, on Daniel: On top of the duvet, he was churning, his legs sawing as if he were running in his sleep, his head going back and forth on the pillows, one hand gripping the covers in a fist so tight that it shook. With his mouth open, his chest was pumping up and down—

“Daniel?” she said. Then louder, “Daniel—”

Just as she had done, he shot upright, but as his eyes met hers, he did not see her; there was no recognition in his stare as his lids peeled wide and his face stretched with terror.

“Daniel.” She went around to him. “Daniel, it’s okay, you’re all—”

“I can’t breathe.” His hand let go of the comforter and went to the front of his chest. As he twisted the T-shirt he’d changed into, his face turned to her, his opaque stare finally locking on her even as he seemed not to know who she was. “I …”

“You’re breathing.”

“I am?”

“Yes, here.” She put her hand on top of his own. “See? You’re inhaling and exhaling. You’re okay.”

“Am I?”

“I promise you. Let’s breathe together.”

Now his eyes clung to hers, as if she were the only thing keeping him on the planet, as if gravity had decided to forget about him and he was in danger of floating away without her.

“I can’t breathe … ,” he choked.

With no warning, he caved into her, his full body weight crashing against her torso. He was so big, she scrambled to hold on to him as he lurched forward—and she had to get up on the bed or she was going to drop him. Instantly, his heavy arm came around her and he pulled her closer. Then he curled up in the fetal position. The shaking that came over him was so intense, it rattled the headboard against the wall.

Repositioning herself, she tucked his head into her neck and stroked his thick hair. “Shh … I’ve got you. You need to just let it go, let it out. Whatever it is you’re holding in, just let it go …”

“I can’t,” he croaked.

“Yes, you can,” she whispered. “Give it to me. Let it go and give it to me.”

The moan that came out of him was like a piece of his soul had broken off the whole, and now, abandoned and lost, it was crying out in the darkness of fate to find its way back.

“Give it to me, Daniel. I’m strong enough for your burden. I can carry whatever you need me to. Give the burden to me—”

“I can’t breathe.”

“You’re breathing—”

“I can’t breatheIcantbreatheIcant—she’s not breathing. Oh, God, she’s not breathing …”

“Tell me.”

There was a period where he didn’t speak, nothing but his sawing inhales filling the entire house, the whole world. And then, when he at last talked to her, his syllables had pounding hooves, his words trampling over the distance between his past, where he was alone, and the present, which they were both in.

“She’s in the water. She’s fallen from the bridge into the river. Her head’s under the surface. It’s dark out, I can’t see where she is … the current is fast … the water is muddy … I can’t see—I’m jumping. I’m jumping. I’m hitting the cold water. It’s hard as stone and it’s … in my mouth and my nose. I’m choking … I’m swimming. I’m calling her name …”

He was breathing even harder now. “Mom … Mom … Mom … where are you?”

Lydia squeezed her eyes shut.

“I can see her … her head is bobbing … I’m swimming to her. Mom! Mom, I’m coming for you … oh, God, my arms are tired, but I’m swimming as fast as I can—Mom!”

Lydia stroked his hair and murmured her empathy as the story rolled out. It was all she could do, even if it wasn’t good enough. Nothing would be good enough.

“She’s not … oh, Jesus … she’s not …”

As he seemed to get stuck, she whispered, “She’s not what, Daniel.”

“She’s facedown. She’s not … she’s floating facedown in the river …” He let out a groan of pain. “I’ve got her, I’ve turned her over … I’m pulling her toward the shore, I’m swimming against the current … Mom, I’ve got you … I’m trying to get you … help … help … I can’t hold her … I’m trying … to … Mom!”

Abruptly, the shaking stopped.

And she was not surprised as he jerked against her—and then pulled away.

“What are you—Lydia?” he said. “Are you okay?”





YOU WERE DREAMING,” Lydia said in a thin, worried voice. “I came in … because you were dreaming and you called out.”

In the light streaming past a partially open door, Daniel tried to get his bearings: The body against his own was very feminine, and there was the smell of fresh shampoo in his nose. The room he was in was a bedroom he wasn’t familiar with—but he knew who was with him. Lydia was beside him.