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For what felt like the tenth time that night, Evey rearranged the pillows around her and dropped herself back into the nest she'd made. Nothing fit, nothing was comfortable, and she was as far from sleepy as she could get. Through the bedroom window, spikes of silver were making their slow journey across the foot of the bed to the floor beyond. When she'd laid down, the moonlight hadn't even reached the bedpost.

This time, she was on her stomach, one leg tossed over a pillow she'd pulled up against her side. Her skin ached. Restlessness was one word for it. Dropping her face in another of the pillows she'd rough-handled, she groaned. This was really quite intolerable. She should've been asleep hours ago, and instead she...

Evey flipped on her back, jerked the blanket up to her chin, and stared hard at the ceiling above her. She'd been keeping her thoughts well, well away from the presence always embedded in her mind, that presence that was now as much a part of her as she herself. But one particularly insane thought was beating down that hard discipline: He could help.