Page 91 of Their Chosen

Chapter Thirty Six: Rhowyn

I woke up in the middle of the night, a soft glow from the lamp beside my bed keeping the room alight. I needed to pee, so I swung my legs from the bed slowly but fully on my own. After another round of healing before I had fallen asleep for the night, I was feeling better.

Granted, I was still moving slowly and in quite a bit of pain, but it wasn’t unbearable like before. I slowly shuffled to the bathroom, not wanting to wake up whichever guy stayed with me tonight. I passed out before we could decide who that would be.

I used the restroom and washed my hands, turning off the light as I left the bathroom.

“Why didn't you ask for help?” a growl sounded out, startling me, and causing me to gasp in pain at the sudden movement.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed.

A hand landed on my hip, steadying me as I recognized Callum in the dim light. I brushed his hand off, suddenly angry with him. “I didn't need any help.”

“Bullshit. I could feel your pain.”

“And yet, here I am, on my own two feet. Pain doesn't make me an invalid,” I snapped.

I placed a hand on my heart, hoping to slow the racing from the jump scare he had given me. I wasn't expecting Callum to be here with me, that was for sure. I would have thought it would be Baer or Arryn with the way they had tended to me all day. Or even Lennox, his worry evident through our bond, but not Callum.

“Where have you been?” I demanded, letting the hurt slip at his abandonment. I pulled it back quickly, but I saw it register on his face. Fuck. I didn't want his pity.

“I've been out,” he admitted more softly, reaching to help me again.

Something through the bond from him convinced me to allow him to help me, even though I didn't really need it. We shuffled back to the bed, where I sat down and glared up at him as he stood over me.

“That really tells me so much. I'm glad we could clear the air,” I said sarcastically.

He huffed and ran a hand through his hair, almost black in the shadows, though strands of it caught the light and looked like fire in the night. He dropped his hand and looked at me as if he was searching for something in my eyes or through the bond.

“Look, I have a lot weighing on me. Having you here. Being a consort. This has just added a whole new level of stress and I needed some space to get my head straight,” he finally admitted, though it still didn’t tell me much.

It was my turn to study him. Do I push him? He always seemed so angry at me, but that wasn’t the emotion I got from the bond. I couldn't quite place his emotions as they changed so rapidly, almost overwhelming me like waves crashing over my head, keeping me from gasping the air I desperately needed.

If this was how he was feeling now, then I could only imagine what it had been like before he got his head on straight. It was that thought alone that made up my mind to let the issue go. For now, at least.

“Okay,” I said, accepting his explanation. He seemed taken aback by that response, as if expecting me to push him. “I can understand the need for space. I was just worried.” I didn't admit to him that I was worried he regretted bonding to me. That he found me lacking in some way.

I knew I didn't need his acceptance in order to be happy or strong, but I couldn't help that I wanted it anyway. For some reason, I had been drawn to him, despite how much he angered me. I just wished things were easier between us.

I could sense that he was hurting, that he and I were alike in many ways, but I still knew very little about him. Anytime I tried to ask, the others got closed lipped about how it was his story to tell. But when would he finally trust me with that story, and how could I earn that trust?

“I didn't mean to worry you.” He stepped backward, finding a chair in the corner and sitting down.

I pulled my feet up into bed with me and glanced at the other side to see it hadn't been disturbed. “Wait.” I glanced at him sharply. “Have you been sleeping in the chair all night?”

“No,” he said succinctly.

“But...” I protested, but he cut me off.

“I've been sitting here, but I haven't been sleeping.”

“Why?” I asked, confused.

“Why what?”

“Why weren't you sleeping?” I hoped he might open up to me. That we might begin to bridge this gap between us.

He sighed, not saying a word. I huffed and slowly laid down on my side, still facing him. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep, when he finally decided to answer me.

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