Page 35 of Bind Me

“Thanks for testifying that I was with you last Wednesday.”

“For you, I’d reach up into the sky and drag the moon down for you if it made you smile again.”

She glances over, the corner of her lips attempting to curl into a grin, but it never makes it.

“What did they do to you?” I ask, leading her down the street, my hand slipping into hers, covering it completely. She doesn’t pull away, which is a good sign, but she’s shaking. Something scared her. I grind my jaw, determined to find and destroy it.

Her lips are pursed, and she’s not answering me. The furrowed brow and gaze are lost in the distance, telling me she didn’t hear my question. Or she refuses to answer it.

I jumped at the chance to come for her the moment the authorities arrived at my house, saying Sasha needed my help. Fuck, I would have run into the city, bowling over anyone who stood in my way. And now, I’m not letting her go.

What I found fascinating was that once I notified the authorities who I was, they were hesitant to let me testify, asking more questions about my approval to be in the House of Gold and Garnet. I have none, yet the moment I clarified that I’m Sasha’s fated mate, they welcomed me without another issue. Does that mean she’s my gateway to staying in the country without gaining formal approval?

I sure as fuck wish someone would tell the mercenaries on my tail that. Found two more in my yard this morning.

Anyway, I arranged for someone to drive Sasha and me back to my place, but she insists we go to hers. Something about a chowder, which I am led to believe is a meal. She must be hungry.

Sitting next to her in the back seat, our legs touching, she blinks a lot, hands curled in her lap. I touch her thigh tenderly, my body hyperaware of where we’re touching, the need consuming me to take her into my arms, but I resist… for now.

“Want to talk about it? I can hurt them for wrongly blaming you. I’ll burn down the whole damn building.”

After a pause, she shakes her head, not shooting my idea down right away, which says a lot about her state of mind. It’s hard watching her this way when I’m used to seeing her being strong, fighting me. I adore the fuck out of that, but this side of her, the vulnerability, squeezes at my chest. It brings out a primal desperation to wrap her up, protect her, and keep her safe.

“I’m here to protect you,” I remind her.

Her shoulders slump a bit. “Except you can’t protect me from my past.”

I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. I exhale heavily, fighting back the urge to insist that she tell me what’s going on. Except I’m trying not to terrify the girl.

When we finally arrive at her place, she climbs out of the car without a word, and I take that as my cue to follow. I get out, telling the driver to leave us. Then I follow her into the tiny cabin in the woods.

The place is as I remember—small, cozy, and with minimal furniture. My hunting lodge back in Tartarus was better furnished than this. We might have lived in a prison world, but after thousands of years, those stuck inside made the world their home with all the comforts.

This cabin Sasha lives in is only temporary. I’ve already dug into her background. Sure, I may be new in the city, but I have a way of convincing people to give me the information I seek.

What I discovered is enough to know she’s from a place called South Africa, but she’s now in Norway for her job, and this cabin is under a rent-by-the-week plan. So, she doesn’t have any real attachments to it, and it’ll be easier for her to move out.

Shutting the door behind me, I turn to the scattering sound of nails on the wooden floor. From somewhere in the house comes running a little… rodent or something, wearing a blue vest. It skids to a stop in front of me, lifting on its hind legs in my direction. I don’t need to know what sort of creature it is to instantly sense it’s water-based, something I respect.

Sasha rushes to the critter, swooping it off its feet. Swinging it away from me, she whispers to the creature and kisses it on the cheek.

“Now remember, no more biting, okay?”

“That thing isn’t going to hurt me,” I state.

She faces me, laughing sarcastically, sounding high-pitched. “You’d be surprised. Chowder is rather fond of biting off fingers, so watch out. And he’s an otter.”

I chuckle. “That little thing?” So that’s the critter’s name, not food. I don’t recall seeing an otter back in Tartarus. I suppose for something tiny and wearing a vest, it’s kind of cute.

Chowder keeps eyeing me, as though he’s sizing me up.

“Nice to meet you, little guy.”

She sets him on the floor, and he makes a small hissing sound in my direction. I raise an eyebrow, impressed by his bravery.

“Feisty little thing, isn’t he?” I say, stepping closer.

“He’s just protective of me after I saved him from a lab doing experiments on him,” she retorts. “He doesn’t trust easily.”

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