Page 32 of Protector

I’m not aware I’m rubbing at my chest before I catch AX2 frowning at the movement.

“Are you done?” I bite, forcing my hand from my ribs to indicate his now empty plate.

“I am sated,” he says, gaze still resting on my chest. “Thank you.”

He’s never thanked me before—not for nourishment, not for anything. Not that I expected him to; outside of basic military etiquette, I haven’t trained my AX soldiers with manners in mind.

“Great. Let’s go.” I spin away from the kitchen island, keen to get out of this room with its soft smell of baked bread and memories of my father’s hums of pleasure when eating my mother’s cooking. Only before I manage to stalk out of the kitchen, something sharp twangs behind my ribs, my knees wobble, and I lose my footing.

“Shit!” My squeak ends on a huff as AX2 materializes behind me and yanks me back upright before I can faceplant on the tiles.

“I told you you needed to rest,” he growls, his tone as insolent as if he’d not spent three years learning to obey.

But I’m too distracted to punish him. That sharp stabbing behind my ribs jabs at me again, making me gasp and reach for my chest.Oh God, not this. Not this.

“What’s happening?” AX2’s voice is still a deep growl, but when he spins me around to look me over, there’s worry clear as day in his green eyes.

He shouldn’t be able to feel worried.The thought is fleeting and drowns in another wave of pain.No, no, no.

“Adelaide?” My name rolls off his tongue, stilted and unfamiliar. He grabs my wrist and yanks my hand away from my ribs before I can claw at the bandages under my top.

“It’s him,” I wheeze as the dark fog settles on my mind like a crown of lead. I’m back in the bunker, back in the freezing nightmare.Oh, God, no. I escaped. I can’t… Not again.

But my chest burns with him—with that first claim forced onto me while I sobbed and pleaded.He’s dead. He’s dead!

“You’re okay.”And suddenly, there’swarmth.All around me, encompassing my body, my mind. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

I blink as the fog melts away and I’m back in my parents’ kitchen, where I spent so many mornings eating breakfast while my mom fussed around me and my father, back when everything was still warm and light.

AX2 has both arms wound tightly around my back, ensuring there’s not even a fraction of an inch’s air between us. He smells faintly like the bread I made him eat, and strongly of musk and male, and I don’t pause to think before I bury my nose in his chest and inhale.

“That’s it. Breathe,” he rumbles, the deep bass of his voice vibrating from his chest and into my bones.

I suck in lungful after lungful of his scent, until the pain from my ribs is nothing but a faint memory, my frozen muscles melt, and my brain slowly returns to the present.

I made it out. Heisdead. And I survived.

“Release me.”

A growl rumbles out of AX2’s chest, but his chip ensures he obeys the command.

I take a step back, stumble, and have to reach for a chair to catch myself.

“I am your alpha. You made it so.” His voice is low, angry. “Protecting you is as hardwired into me as every other impulse you’ve forced into my DNA.”

He’s right. I look up at him—at his clenched jaw and the simmering hatred in his eyes drowning out any worry I might have thought I saw before. Heismy alpha, and even as I have to steel myself against the deep-rooted terror at that thought, I know what the alternative was. I would have died in that bunker without him.

But he is also right thatImade it so. It was my choice. And he is under my control, not… not the other way around.

I force down the memory of the first man who called himself my alpha.Thisbond—the oneIchose? I will be the one to control it.

FIFTEEN

AX2

She instructs him to carry her up the stairs and into her bedroom, using an unnecessary command to force her will through. His entire being aches to wrap around her to soothe the pain still ghosting through their bond—she would only need to command him if she intended to risk further injury by walking while she’s clearly too weak to do so safely.

Having her in his arms is a curious experience. Every biological part of him is practically purring at the sensation of her—her weight against his torso, the soft press of her curves, her silent acknowledgement that caring for her is his duty. His right.

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