As I watched the blade come down, reluctantly resigned to letting Death take me and the darkness claim me, one last word echoed through the air.
“Cut.”
Chapter 1
Eye-Opening
“What the hell?” Ryan’s head flew off his pillow, roused from his deep sleep when I screamed.
I sat up and kicked the blankets away with my feet, panicking to untangle myself as I rubbed the phantom pain stabbing fire into my chest.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Damn, that felt so real. Okay, calm down. It was just a dream. Just a dream.
Ryan leaned up on the mound of hotel pillows. I could see him scanning the room, looking for some sort of danger. “Tar, are you all right?” His hand grasped my thigh as he shifted his body closer. “Taryn, what happened?”
I wanted to answer him but I was momentarily stunned and completely incapable of coherent speech, still caught in a freaked-out haze between nightmare and reality. I tried to say something, I really did, but all that came from my mouth were raspy, stuttered breaths.
Fortunately it didn’t take me long to realize where I was, for it had been less than twenty-four hours ago when I boarded a plane and departed Providence, Rhode Island. Now I was shaken and panting for air in a luxurious hotel suite in Los Angeles, ripped from sleep by my own ridiculous thoughts.
Ryan tugged my chin; his voice was frantically curt. “Look at me.” His hand brushed my long hair out of my eyes. “Taryn, are you okay? Tar? Answer me.”
I grasped his arm and managed a weak nod. “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m . . . I’m so sorry I woke you.”
“Don’t worry about me,” he insisted, curling up closer.
If his throbbing pulse in my hand was any indication, I’d say I had scared the shit out of him, too.
He smoothed my hair back, wrapping a few strands behind my ear.
“What happened? You have a nightmare?” I nodded, trying to save myself from having to explain.“Jeez, baby.” Ryan sighed. “Come here.
Try to relax.” He coaxed me back down to his chest and tugged the sheet and blankets over us again.
His skin was warm and the hand rubbing my back was so comforting that I felt my er-ratic breathing starting to calm.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He kissed the top of my head, resting his lips there as he hugged me.
There, in his arms, I felt completely safe.
But out there in the public eye, things were out of his control. I had learned early on in this relationship that the terror factor grew exponentially when you’re a celebrity. And dating a famous celebrity was no different—actually it was worse when delusional fans became obsessively jealous, insanely possessive, and wanted you out of the way.
Even normal, sane people lost their minds when it came to celebrities. Combine that with a world full of crazy people and the threats became very real.
I was thankful that Ryan was insistent about sending Mike into LAX yesterday to escort us safely out of the airport, or else the paparazzi would have eaten me alive. Ryan’s public proposal painted a new, fat target on my back. It was one thing to be the local “fling” he had while on location; it was completely another once rumors started circulating that he actually put a ring on my finger.
How the hell they recognized me among all the other people hurrying through the airport was mind-boggling. Trying to get through the gauntlet of paparazzi in LAX was akin to sidestepping land mines. While I was very grateful for Mike’s protection, I still think the photographers only noticed me because they recognized Ryan’s bodyguard first.
Heck, every public picture taken of Ryan lately had Mike in it somewhere—holding back fans, watching the invisible perimeter around Ryan with the expertise of a trained hunter. Between his gorgeous body and killer smile, Mike Murphy was becoming as famous as Ryan Christensen.
“You want to tell me what the hell scared you awake like that?”
Aw shit. I shrugged, not willing to ruin my first morning finally back in his arms by getting into some stupid nonsense. “It was just . . . I don’t even remember it anymore. I’ll be all right.”
Ryan huffed softly as I waited for him to call me out on my little lie. “Did you dream about her again?”
I tensed, not exactly sure which “her” he was referring to.
When I didn’t respond, he tightened his arms. “She’s in jail, Taryn. She can’t hurt us anymore.”
Well, at least he had the psycho-bitch part right. Shame he picked the wrong one. Angelica, our incarcerated stalker, wasn’t the one who had haunted my thoughts but I wasn’t about to set him straight.