She turned her face into his hand, still caught in the edges of sleep. She felt damp and dizzy and her eyes wouldn’t work right. “I died. Oh, god.” Her voice went rough, and then she was shaking, adrenaline-driven terror gripping her guts and shortening her breath. It felt as if something heavy was sitting on her chest, as if all the oxygen was removed from the air she gasped at.
Summer curled into a ball, trying to still the tremors racking her muscles, but that just made it worse. Now there was nothing at her back, and irrationally she felt sure someone was behind her, waiting to stab.
“You’re fine, no one’s going to hurt you.” He dropped back onto the mattress, so he could curl both arms around her, pulling her close.
He didn’t…know how to fix this. He had never been the most comforting person (given his own nightmares, one would think he would be better at it in this case). Could he even fix this? Whatever. He stroked one hand through her hair and all but tucked her under his chin as he shifted. “It’s just me, and it’s just the bedroom. Our bedroom.”
“I died, it was Loki. He killed me.” Her voice shook, the whisper rasping in her throat. “Don’t let him hurt me.” She forced her breathing to slow, but it felt like she was being suffocated again. The little, rational part of her brain knew it hadn’t been Loki, that their lover would never hurt her unless they arranged for it beforehand — and especially not like that.
“Tony, Tony, I — ” She sobbed, sharply, and caught her breath again, burrowing into his arms like she could climb inside his skin and be safe. ” — I set off the inferno.”
