Page 34 of Protector

He skims his fingers over the pocket containing her journal and wonders what she was like then. If she pulled legs off insects to watch them suffer, or if she was ever… kind. Soft.

The first entry is from two decades ago. She must have been around thirteen, he surmises. He runs a finger over the neat loops of her handwriting, the vague knowledge that he is violating her privacy only adding a grim satisfaction. She’s spent three years drilling into his DNA; forcing his way into her memories gives him no remorse.

I am bleeding.It’s a big deal, according to Mom.

I wish I wasn’t. What’s so great about being a woman? It hurts, it’s gross, and I have no intention of “finding myself a nice alpha boy to take care of me,” Yeah, thanks Dad, nice and progressive there.

She took me for chocolate cake and “the talk” at Alison’s in town. Bit late for that, lady. I’m in advanced biology. Getting straight As. I’m good on the gory details of human reproduction.

She also got me this journal. And instructions to write in it often, because “young ladies need somewhere safe to share their secrets.” I see straight through you, you know that, right? But I’ll be sure to dutifully write down if I start doing drugs, or get impregnated by a—gasp!—beta. Promise!

But for now, I’m going to curl up and wait for my uterus to stop attempting to escape. Being a woman sure is great! Woo!

AX2 chuffs a breaththrough his nose. Whatever glimpse of her personality he was expecting, a snarky teen somehow seems entirely appropriate. And more real than he was prepared for. He flicks the page, unexpectedly eager to learn more about this person hiding in his tormentor’s past, when agony rips through his chest.

“Help me!”

SIXTEEN

AX2

He’s through the door in a fraction of a second, eyes scanning every detail of the room while he moves across the floor to the bed. Toher.

Nothing is amiss, yet the wild thrashing of their bond tells him that something is horribly wrong, as clearly as his mate’s gasping breath and tear-streaked face.

“Help me!” she cries again, hands fisting in her duvet. “Please, please, help me!”

“I’m here,” he says as he kneels on the mattress, surveying her. Her eyes are large and unfocused, but she leans toward him like a flower to the sun. There is no outward sign of injury. “Where does it hurt?”

She lets out a soft gasp and paws at her ribs, where she shredded her own flesh before he could save her, and he understands.

Grimly, he catches her wrist before she tries to hurt herself again. She doesn’t pull against his hold, and he releases her hand to reach for the hem of her nightgown.

“Nononono!” It comes out as a garbled shriek, and she flails to grasp at his arm, nails digging in.

“I’m just checking your wound. I won’t hurt you,” he says, his voice softening at the look of terror in her still-unfocused eyes.

She stares up at him, lower lip quivering, but when he pushes the garment up, she doesn’t fight him.

There are angry, pink scars on the pale skin under her left breast, fresh and shiny, but with no hint of seepage. The pain still throbbing through his own chest isn’t from any physical injuries.

“All right.” He huffs out a breath and lets her nightgown fall before he wraps his arms around her trembling body and pulls her close. “You’re okay. It’s gonna pass in a minute. Just breathe.”

He expects her to be stiff in his grasp—to resist the forced proximity. Instead she lets out a choking sob and loops her arms around the back of his neck, flattening herself against him in her efforts to get closer still. When she nuzzles at his neck and her breath ghosts over his skin in a deep inhale, his cock jumps.

Shit.He tries to shift his hips without breaking his hold on her, but all he achieves is to rub his swelling cock against her hamstring. Electricity zings through his system at the added stimulation, and there’s nothing he can do to prevent a full erection.

But rather than retreating in horror, she digs her fingers deeper into his back muscles andsobs.

“Shh,” he whispers, the ache from their bond mixing with pain that’s wholly his own. “I’m never gonna hurt you like that. Just breathe, girl. Breathe.”

It takes a long while, but slowly her sobs quiet to shaky breaths. A few moments more, and she calms enough to sniff at his neck again, instincts she’ll never acknowledge in the light of day urging her to soothe herself with her mate’s scent.

AX2 sits entirely still, jaw clenched against the desire to rub his nose along her jugular and scent her in response. Their bond is quieting, the throbbing of it turning duller, and he expects the return of the cold monster he knows so well. But when she finally lifts her head to look at him, it is not with her usual hardness.

Her unfocused gray eyes search his, and the uncertainty in them makes his gut clench.

“Why can I still feel him?” she whispers, her voice so quiet it almost doesn’t sound like her. “He’s gone. You took his place. Why is he still there?”

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