I held her tight enough to stop her from hurting herself, gentle enough not to startle her. I wrapped myself around her like armor, burying my face into her hair and letting my presence speak for me.
I’d stay here all night if I had to.
Narine’s POV
The first thing I registered when I finally came to was pain.
A dull, burning throb echoed in my bones, as if my entire body remembered every bruise, every claw, and every whisper of agony I’d ever endured.
The second thing I noticed was a warm solid arm draped over my waist, and the second tucked beneath my head, alternatively pinning both of my wrists gently.
The third thing I noticed was the heat. A comforting, enveloping warmth that seemed to seep into my skin. How good he smelled, and how perfectly his body molded around mine.
And the last thing, what made me freeze in place was a poke.
Right on my lap.
I went rigid, my breath caught in my throat as my heart took off like a startled bird.
“No. No, no, no.” I screeched.
Wherever the strength came from, I didn’t question it. I twisted, kicked, and squirmed until I managed to slide myself out from under him and tumble off the bed with a graceless thud. The cold floor bit at my skin as I scrambled backward like a startled deer, until my back hit the edge of the nightstand.
He groaned, rubbing his face like I hadn’t just screamed bloody murder.
His hair was a mess, soft black curls in every direction, and his lips were pouty, still swollen with sleep. His lashes fluttered as he cracked open those eyes. I hated how unfairly good-looking he looked, even in chaos.
“…You’re finally awake,” he mumbled, stretching with a casual yawn.
“Why the fuck was he in bed with me?”
His brows arched slightly as he sat up, and the sheets slid down his body. “You were having a nightmare. Thrashing and clawing at yourself. I tried to wake you up, but you wouldn’t stop. So I held you… all night.” He shrugged like it was no big deal.
I stared at him.
That… made sense. Sort of.
Why wasn’t I scared though? It was like my body knew that this man, this infuriating Alpha, wouldn’t hurt me.
But my brain was struggling to keep up.
I paused.
Wait.
Wait, what?
How did he know exactly to respond to what I had thought? Was it just a coincidence? Was I simply overthinking this? Or was I finally insane?
He tilted his head slightly, amused. “You’re not insane, Im Sireli. You were simply thinking out loud.”
A scream tore from my throat, again.
“Are you reading my mind?” I yelped.
And then I froze.
I heard it. My voice.
Trembling, I pressed a hand to my throat, disbelieving. “Ah…hah…” I tried again.
A soft gasp escaped me as I stared at my hands like they held the key to some ancient magic. Tears welled in my eyes as I opened my mouth again, and this time, a laugh came out, croaky, strange, and unfamiliar, but mine.
“So this… this is how I sound?” I whispered. “I didn’t even remember anymore…”
Then the memories of yesterday came crashing into me.
The palace.
The garden.
The kiss.
And Joe.
My chest caved in on itself.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to anchor myself, but the weight of that memory pulled me under. The kiss should’ve been just that. A mistake. But It reminded me of Joe. Of how he….
My throat closed up. The memory was too painful.
I couldn’t breathe past the panic or wrap my mind around the fact that something so soft could awaken something so horrifying. And it wasn’t fair, not to me or him. That kiss was an accident on both end and I wouldn’t hold it against him.
I dropped my gaze to my hands then stilled.
There was torn skin beneath my nails.
He wasn’t lying. Sargis had protected me from myself, again.
“Good morning,” he mumbled, though his voice was still thick with sleep.
I hummed in response, still stuck somewhere between yesterday’s ghosts and today’s strange normalcy.
“Do you want to use the bathroom first, or should I?” he asked casually.
It was such an ordinary question that it felt disorienting. I blinked. It was the first time we’d woken up together. Normally, he was always awake before I opened my eyes in the morning, and when I closed my eyes in the night. I’ve never genuinely seen him shower or wet.
I watched as he stood. I quickly averted my gaze, suddenly remembering the way he had curled around me protectively. The feel of his chest pressed against my back, and the way he had cradled my wrists so gently.
I shuffled toward the walk-in closet and grabbed one of his black shirts and a pair of shorts. Wearing his clothes felt… normal now.. They were warm, oversized, and always carried his scent. I couldn’t remember the last time I had worn underwear. Oddly, that didn’t bother me.
I stepped back into the room, clutching the soft fabric to my chest. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, typing with his brows furrowed in thought. I kept my gaze low and padded quietly to the bathroom.
Inside, the silence wrapped around me like a shroud.
I moved on instinct, brushing my teeth and washing my face. Then I stopped when I caught my reflection in the mirror.
Angry red lines were scattered across my arms and collarbone. I had done that. To myself. And it made me realize I was growing comfortable here.
With him.
And that scared me more than anything else.
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