The Biker Alpha Who Became My Second Chance Mate Chapter 54

Tristan's POV

I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

The same nightmare that had been chasing me for months was back with a vengeance. It had disappeared for a while, giving me hope that maybe I was finally healing, but tonight it returned in full force.

I sat up and reached for the glass of water on my nightstand, bringing it to my lips for a sip. That's when I heard it - a scream filled with terror and pain that made my blood turn to ice.

I knew that voice. Knew it belonged to Athena.

The glass slipped from my hands and shattered on the floor, but I barely noticed. She was having another nightmare, and I'd seen this coming from the moment we'd left the beach tonight.

I'd wanted us both to sleep in her room. Over the past weeks, I'd noticed she slept peacefully when I was nearby, like my presence somehow kept the bad dreams at bay.

But she'd insisted on sleeping alone, claiming she was fine and didn't need anyone watching over her. I couldn't argue without making her think I saw her as fragile, so I'd reluctantly agreed.

But I'd known this would happen. After weeks of relative peace, seeing Daxon again would drag all her demons back to the surface.

I understood nightmares better than most people because they'd been my constant companions since Jess died, which was why I'd stopped sleeping properly months ago.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her lifeless body on our dining room floor. So I'd made sleep feel like a betrayal, told myself I didn't deserve rest when I hadn't been there to protect my mate and unborn child.

The first time I'd slept without nightmares was when I'd held Athena during one of her episodes weeks ago. Something about having her in my arms had quieted the voices in my head, had made the darkness feel less overwhelming.

I only found peace when she was close enough to touch. That was the real reason I'd insisted on staying in her room all those nights - part protection, part selfishness.

She needed safety, and I needed the calm that only came when I could feel her breathing beside me. We both needed the calm actually.

I ran toward her room faster than I'd ever moved, taking the stairs three at a time. When I reached her door, I could hear her thrashing around inside, caught in whatever horror her mind was replaying.

I burst through the door without knocking and found her tangled in sheets, kicking and fighting an invisible enemy. Her face was twisted with fear and rage, sweat beading on her forehead as she battled demons only she could see.

"I'm not scared of you, Daxon!" she shouted into the darkness. "You're nothing but a coward!"

Despite the circumstances, I felt a surge of pride. Even in her nightmares, she was fighting back instead of cowering. The strength she'd found was real, even when she was unconscious.

"Ath," I called softly, moving to her bedside and reaching out to shake her gently.

But she was completely lost in whatever nightmare held her captive. Her movements were getting more violent, and I was afraid she might hurt herself if I couldn't wake her up soon.

"You can't control me anymore!" she yelled, her fist swinging at empty air. "I'm not that girl anymore!"

Her strength was surprising, more than I remembered her having. While I could easily handle her physically, I knew I needed to break through to her consciousness before she exhausted herself fighting shadows.

I tried calling her name louder, tried holding her shoulders to still her movements, tried everything I could think of to pull her back to reality.

Nothing worked. She remained trapped in that place where past trauma lived and breathed and held you prisoner.

Desperate to help her, I did the only thing I could think of that might shock her system back to awareness.

I covered her mouth with mine.

At first, she continued whimpering against my lips, her body still tense with fear. But gradually, slowly, she began to respond. Her lips trembled under mine, uncertain, then softened, parting just enough for me to feel the warmth of her breath.

Her fingers clutched at my shirt like she was reaching for safety, and when she finally kissed me back, my chest nearly split in two.

It was hesitant, shaky, like she wasn't sure this was real. Then it became deeper and stronger, as if she realized it was me. As if she realized she was safe.

I held her face between my hands and deepened the kiss, the way she sighed into my mouth almost undid me, all my careful reasoning disappeared in the face of pure need.

The only thing that mattered was holding her, comforting her, showing her that she was safe and wanted and cherished.

She melted against me like she belonged there, like this was where she'd always been meant to be.

Her nightmare were gone, now replaced by something raw and dangerous, she slowly pushed her tongue into my mouth like she wanted to taste every flavor.

When we pulled apart for air, we were both breathing hard. Her eyes were wide and clear, her lips swollen from my kiss.

“Tristan,” she whispered, and the sound of my name in her voice—soft, needy, uncertain—lit a fire in me I couldn't control.

My gaze dropped to her mouth, the way her lips parted like she wanted more. I couldn't stop myself.

I pulled her head close to mine, breathed her in, then caught her lower lip between mine, sucking until she let out a breathy moan that went straight to my cock.

I shifted to her upper lip, sucking and teasing it until her fingers dug into my back, dragging down and gripping my ass so hard I groaned.

Her boldness consumed me. I slid my hands under her thighs, lifted her, and set her on my lap.

The moment her legs wrapped around my waist, something inside me snapped, I knew I was never letting her go.

I needed this, needed her.

She gasped when I pressed her down against me, her chest crushed to mine, nipples hard against my skin even through the thin fabric of her gown.

I pushed the nightgown up, tugging it over her head, and she raised her arms without hesitation, hungry eyes locked on mine.

The second her nightgown hit the floor, she pulled my mouth back to hers, kissing me with the same desperate need I felt.

Her lips moved fast and wild, her tongue pushing past mine like she couldn't get enough.

Her nails scraped my back, her hips rolling and grinding against my already hard dick with every ragged breath.

I slid my right hand up, cupping her left breast, feeling the weight of it as I squeezed it slowly, my finger flicking her nipples.

Her back arched into my palm, and the sound she made—a deep, shaky moan that broke in the middle—nearly killed me.

I lowered my head, kissing down her neck, sucking hard at her collarbone until I heard her cry out in pleasure as she clutched at my hair.

I moved my mouth lower, with my tongue licking her through. When my mouth got to her boobs I took her nipple into my mouth, teasing it with my tongue, then grazing it lightly with my teeth.

Her response was instant. She gasped, her head falling back, one hand gripping the sheets while the other clung to my shoulder.

Her thighs tightened around me, pulling me closer, and her moans came faster, rougher, like she didn't care if the whole world heard.

Every sound from her, every shiver of pleasure racing through her body, told me exactly what I needed to know, she wasn't just letting me touch her. She wanted it. She wanted me.

And I felt like a fucking man as I watched what my tongue was doing to her.