Air surges into my lungs so deeply and suddenly that I cough it up like water. I kick the covers off of me and thrash my body away from my mate. He wakes just as suddenly as I do.

My hair sticks to my face and neck, and I scratch it all off of me, feeling sick with a cold-hot, dizzy, and disoriented. David turns on the lamp beside him, saying, "Brigette? Brigette?" The urgency in his voice-he must think I'm dying. He grabs me only to release a sob from my chest. I jerk away and hold up my hand, fighting with myself, trying to convince myself that this...