Page 35 of Protector

“Because you sent me away,” he says, his words devoid of the anger he felt before. “I can’t protect you if I’m not by your side.”

She swallows, her throat bobbing with the motion as a fresh bout of tears clouds her eyes.

“Shh,” he hums, shifting her weight more fully onto his lap to ensure the closeness she needs. Only in doing so, his cock rubs along her hamstring and nestles against the apex of her thighs. Even through his fatigues, her heat is overwhelming, and he swallows a groan.

She goes rigid in his arms.

“Shit,” he mutters, twisting his hips to the side to break the direct contact with her soft pussy. It makes his now throbbing dick grind maddeningly back down along her leg, and he can’t contain his moan this time. When he looks back at the woman in his arms, she’s shaking like a leaf.

“I couldn’t force you, even if I wanted to,” he grits, too frustrated with the ache for pleasure and his inability to calm his mate to keep his voice soft. “You will always be able to command me to stop.Always.You’re safe.No one’sgonna hurt you like that again. I would break them apart before they could.”

She stares silently at him, but her body stills in his grasp and the fear in her eyes fades as she takes in his gritted jaw and the seriousness of his expression. She knows he’s right—he sees the moment she finally fully accepts that he speaks the truth. Her shoulders slump, her fingers softening against his back.

“I can command you,” she whispers, more to herself than him.

“You can,” he agrees anyway. “You have. I mated you on your orders. It was your choice.” Even if the only alternative was a miserable death. He doesn’t say that part out loud.

She blinks up at him, and for a moment, he seesherreturn. Not in a hardening of her gaze, but a resolve. When she presses her cheek against his collarbone, her eyelashes feather along his skin, drawing a thrill up his spine and deep into his groin.

“Hold me closer,” she murmurs.

It’s an order, but the softness of her voice keeps his chip from activating. He still pulls her tighter to his body.

“Closer,” she demands, constricting her own arms tighter around the back of his neck. “Until it hurts.”

He gets it then—what she needs. Grunting, he pulls her up higher against his torso by her ass, ignoring her squeak of surprise and her flailing hands, and puts her on her back on the bed. Before she can voice a protest, he presses down on top of her, pinning her with his weight.

She lets out a shuddering breath, eyelids fluttering closed. When he bites her neck, the side that isn’t bandaged, her muscles slowly soften under his.

He keeps his teeth in her flesh until he feels her heartbeat slow to a near-normal rhythm, then releases her neck to look down at her.

She stares back up at him, lips parted around short breaths. He’s restricting her breathing, but before he can move to ease the pressure on her chest, she grips him by the shoulders with surprising strength.

“No. Don’t.” Her eyes flick from his to his mouth, then off to the side. “I need… more.”

Shame flutters through their connection. Shame and confusion.

It’s amusing, on some faraway plane. Haughty doctor Adelaide Thompson, the woman who’s made herself the vengeful god of his existence, doesn’t understand why she needs him to scare away the terrors in her blackened soul. And she’s too ashamed to admit it. Won’t tell him she needs him to guide her.

But like it or not, he’s her alpha. She doesn’t need to ask.

“It’s okay,” he rumbles, bending to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. “I’m here.”

She shivers underneath him, eyes clenching shut as she clings to his neck.

“I’ll make it stop.” He buries his nose in her hair and inhales, groaning softly as her scent fills his nostrils. There’s no floral touch to it, only the harsh remainder of the hospital provided soap, but it doesn’t matter. It’s rich with her pheromones, rich withher.

When he brushes a hand down the outside of her arm, she shudders in response, head twisting to stare at him. Her eyes are wide, uncertainty flashing in them again.

“I can’t hurt you. I won’t.”

She doesn’t respond, and he trails his hand from her wrist to her hip, then down her thigh until he reaches the hem of her nightgown. Only when he grabs the back of her knee and pushes her leg up does she release his neck to grab onto his forearm.

“No.” It’s a broken little mewl that makes his cock jump, but the anguish in her eyes keeps him firmly in control. She needs it, andfuck,he does too—but the thought of her sobbing with terror while he sates his maddening desire for her is less than appealing.

“I won’t.” He rubs his thumb against her hamstring, biting back a groan when her eyelids flutter and her grip softens on his arm. He doesn’t give her time to reconsider her hesitant submission. Leaning low on one elbow to keep as much of his body tight with hers as possible, he shifts her thigh to the side, opening her.

She sucks in a sharp breath, but before she can voice another protest, he rolls his hips and presses down firmly between her thighs, sealing his pelvis to hers.

---