Page 15 of Second Chance Mates

My face flinches at the title. I turn towards her until those big yet tired eyes meet mine. For a moment, she looks scared of the proximity between us. “You don’t need to call me Alpha or bow to me, Ava.” I tighten my fist beside my leg to stop myself from caressing her cheek. “You and I are equal. I am not higher than you. But you can call me Jaxon, Jax, or whatever you want to call me.”

Ava’s lashes brush her skin as she takes in my voice, realising I’m being serious. “Jax,” she repeats, and the sound of my name rolling off her tongue has a shiver running down my spine.

When I climbed into bed later that night, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. Ava was in the room down the hall from mine, and despite my wolf telling me to check in on her, I knew better than to push her boundaries. I need to respect her needs. It’s the bare minimum.

She needs time to adjust and find her own trust in us. I roll onto my back and rub my hands over my face. I refuse to look at the time because then I’ll have no hope of getting to sleep.

An unsettling feeling churns in my stomach. I clasp my abdomen and grunt at the sensations diving through me. The tightness of my chest becomes almost unbearable, and I’m tingling all over.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop.

Ava’s thoughts. I can hear them loud and clear.

Immediately, I sit up in my bed and glance at the door.

Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me.

My first instinct is to jump out of bed and storm into her room, but after a moment, I realise she’s having a nightmare. I close my eyes, hating the fact I can hear every word laced with pain and suffering. Her unconscious thoughts come flooding through my head over and over.

Stop. Help me. Stop. Help me. Stop. Help me.

When they become louder, I can’t help but groan in frustration. I am helpless. Completely and utterly helpless.

I twist and shoot a mindlink to Lucy. She’s having a nightmare. A bad one. I can hear everything.

Ugh, Jaxon. What time is it? She murmurs back after a few seconds. Don’t go in there. You’ll scare her.

I bury my head in my hands. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to handle this, but I can’t just sit here and listen to it. It is killing me, Luce.

I know, Jaxon. I know it’s hard. But you need to give her the space. Otherwise, you’ll end up pushing her further away.

This is ruining me, I say weakly.

Lucy is silent for a moment. Then attempt to use the bond to calm her without actually going into her room. Use everything you have to comfort her.

I push my back into the headboard and nod. You’re right.

It’s been too long since I’ve experienced a mate bond that I forget the true power it possesses.

My eyes close, and I imagine the bond. My breathing slows, and I tell myself to push out her agony from my body and focus on pleasant thoughts instead.

Ava whimpers in my mind, and I clench my eyes tighter at the haunting sound. I continue exhaling through the bond, imagining pictures of sandy beaches and lavender fields. Places of peace. Places of tranquillity, all projected into her brain. Her thoughts slowly begin to fade away, and I push a little harder on the bond like a soft caress.

My mate's nightmare quietens down, and after a few minutes, it stops. I keep flashing images of beautiful sunrises and picturesque mountains, representing true freedom in my eyes.

A soft sigh of relief echoes down the bond, so quiet I almost miss it. There is so much pressure inside my head, but I don’t stop. I don’t want to risk her nightmare coming back before she manages to fall into a dreamless sleep.

When Ava’s breathing aligns with mine through the bond, and I’m comfortable she’s asleep, I let the images fizzle out, and my eyes open. If I have to do it every night, I will. It’s the least I can do without crossing her boundaries.

7

JAXON

The past week has been tough to say the least. I’ve barely had a wink of sleep. Every night I stayed awake projecting images into Ava’s mind to stop the nightmares until she was able to fall asleep peacefully.

It’s agonising listening to her screams, knowing I can’t comfort her instead. I’ve been visiting her once or twice a day, but I don’t get a lot back. She hasn’t left her room. She’s barely said two words to me. But I don’t push it. I take every day as it comes.

I hold a cup of coffee in my hand which has turned cold from staring endlessly at the wall. If I don’t, I’ll peer around my kitchen to find plates and cups dotted everywhere as no one bothered to clean up last night. It irks me that my private kitchen is treated like university accommodation.

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