Free Far From Heaven by Cherrie Lynn

watermark. She recognized those dreams as soon as they began, recognized them, but was powerless to wake herself up or escape until the dream was done with her. By then she always stood at the edge of sanity with hurricane-force winds at her back, pushing her ever closer to the dizzying drop below.
    Screaming, she clawed her way from under the sweat-soaked sheets, fighting the hands reaching for her, dead skeletal hands intent on dragging her down and imprisoning her in the earth until she suffocated on black, stinking dirt…she felt it already, filling her throat, and she couldn’t breathe , couldn’t—
    Strong hands caught her, even more solid than the ones trying to kill her. She flailed against them, slapping wildly until both her wrists were shackled with fingers that felt like iron bands and pinned down to the bed.
    The bed. Not the endless black maw of a waiting grave.
    “Madeleine. Madeleine. Wake up.” There was strength in the voice, an undeniable command she responded to, mind, body and soul.
    Her eyes flew open. Her own damp hair streaked her vision, but above her a face appeared. For one frantic moment it looked as threatening as the ones that had been taunting her since she fell asleep, but then everything came into sharp focus. Her room. The pale blue stain of dawn creeping in from her window. Ash. He was still here; he hadn’t left her. Tentatively, he loosened his hold on her wrists, a furrow creasing his brow.
    The words burst out before she could stop them, her automatic response to David whenever she’d woken him up in such a way. “I’m sorry!”
    He released her, settled next to her and pulled her into his arms. She rested her cheek against his naked chest, inhaled him and wished she could disappear inside him. She wasn’t crying—she was always too terrified to cry—but she was shaking all over. His warm solidity against her was the only thing keeping her from flying apart.
    “It’s all right,” he murmured against her hair.
    Minutes passed, and true embarrassment began to fill the emptiness left in the wake of panic. She didn’t want to lift her head from his chest because she didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to have to explain. Not that she owed him anything. It was morning, so surely he’d be out the door and out of her life within an hour. Better to just let it go and get back to reality.
    Reality would be good. The nightmare still hovered at the fringes of her memory, intruding despite her efforts to hold it at bay. She tried to breathe deeply, slowly, but her lungs refused to cooperate just yet.
    Then Ash tilted her chin up and kissed her.
    She hadn’t expected it, wasn’t prepared. She only had time for one fleeting fear about morning breath and then she was swept away.
    Nothing was wrong with the way he tasted. It was better than coffee. His lips gently teased hers apart and his tongue slipped between her teeth, the sensual motions reminding her in excruciating detail of the other things he was good at doing with it. His hands cradled her face; his biceps flexed under her hand…a hand that wasn’t clenching him in fear any longer, but softening with desire.
    How did he do that? How did he chase away all the bad stuff?
    “Better now?” he murmured, pulling away only to continue taking little nips at her mouth.
    “Mm-hmm,” she replied, scarcely recognizing her own voice. She sounded sated, fulfilled…she even felt sleepy again. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the morning was slowly chasing away the last of the shadows in her room. Usually she welcomed it. This particular day, she would like to be able to postpone its arrival, only for a while.
    Ash laid her head back down on his chest, stroking her hair. “Go back to sleep.”
    It sounded divine, but still sent a little sliver of panic through her. “I don’t know if I can. The dreams—”
    “I’ll keep them away.”
    It was cheesy, romantic nonsense, but something melted around her heart.
    She