Page 22 of Bound to the Guard

The gentle words hold no trace of the harshness I expect from an Alpha, and shame courses through me. How must this seem to him when Ijustpromised to trust him?

“I-I’m sorry.” My voice trembles. “I didn’t mean to…”

What should I apologize for? Touching him? Or for fearing punishment for the touching? I keep my body turned away, face hidden. I don’t want to see the disappointment that I know is in his eyes. I let him down and broke my agreement to trust.

Damien’s hand enters my field of vision, palm up, fingers relaxed. An offering, not a demand. “It’s okay, I’m not upset. Do you think we can move out from under the bed, though? You hit your head pretty hard, and I’d like to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.”

I hesitate, torn between the fear of disappointing him again and the unexpected comfort of his presence. Damien waits, patient like always. Giving me a choice.

Tentatively, I uncurl my body and inch forward. Damien moves back, sliding out first to leave room for me to emerge from our hiding spot. The dim light from the lamp on the nightstand blinds me, so I focus on the hardwood floor.

As I sit up, a wave of dizziness washes over me, and I sway, spots dancing in my vision. Damien’s hands reach out, steadying me with a gentle touch on my shoulders. Instinctively, I tense, but he merely supports me, his hold light and undemanding.

“Easy,” he murmurs. “No need to rush.”

Damien’s proximity, his scent, overwhelm me. His pheromones give off a mixture of warmth and strength, with that underlying spice that draws me in. I breathe deeply, finding strength in its familiarity.

Damien’s fingers brush the back of my head, and I flinch, expecting pain. But his touch stays feather-light, examining thetender spot. I bow my head, an automatic gesture of submission ingrained from conditioning.

“No bump, that’s good.” Relief fills the words. “You’re being very brave, Seven. Thank you for trusting me.”

The praise catches me off guard, unfamiliar after so long without kindness. It warms me, making me want to be braver. Heart pounding, I lean into his hand just as it falls away from my head, and disappointment crashes down.

He takes a step back, giving me space I don’t want. “Let’s get you cleaned up. I fear I’ll need to talk to the maids about doing better at wrangling the dust bunnies under my bed.”

He leads the way to the bathroom, his movements slow and deliberate, allowing me to follow at my pace. I trail behind him, the warmth of his hand still lingering on my head.

“How about a bath this morning?” He moves to the deep soaking tub, turning on the tap to fill it and testing the temperature with his hand.

The sound of running water fills the room as I hover in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot, unsure of what to do with myself.

Damien glances over his shoulder, sees me hovering, and straightens.

“Let me give you some privacy.” He moves toward the door, and I skitter to move out of his way. “Take your time and call if you need anything. Breakfast will be here when you’re done.”

He passes by me, his scent enveloping me once more. I turn to follow it, nose twitching, before the door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I turn toward the steaming bathtub, the hot water and soap tempting me. He forgot to give me clothes again, though, so I stay put, waiting. A minute later, my patience is rewarded when the bathroom door pops back open a moment later.

“Sorry, I’m not used to this yet.” Damien keeps his eyes on the floor and holds out a fresh set of clothing. “Forgot your clothes.”

“Thank you.” I walk over to take it and bow my head, leaning forward hopefully.

After a moment, Damien’s hand settles on top of my head, gentle around my bump. “The pain medication is in the medicine cabinet if you need it.”

I nod, his hand petting me with the motion.

His voice roughens. “And try not to submerge your arm. The bandage is water resistant, but not waterproof.”

I nod again just to earn more pets and inch closer.

A rumble rises from his chest as his hand slips to the back of my neck, tracing the notches of my spine. “Do you like French toast? Or do you think it will be too much for your stomach?”

My stomach growls at the mention of food, and I duck my head with embarrassment.

“Okay, French toast it is.” His hand slides around my neck to skate along my collarbone, sending my pulse racing.

He bends, his nose brushing the shell of my ear, and I freeze, caught between the instinct to pull away and the desire to lean into his touch. Damien’s breath warms my skin, sending a shiver through me, and that rumble from his chest vibrates all the way down to my toes.

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