Page 48 of Bound to the Guard

With a shiver, I lift my lips to his ear. “Prove it.”

Damien rumbles, and without a word, he turns on his heel and strides toward the doorway. My pulse races, craving his touch to chase away the panic of losing him.

Oliver’s sharp confusion chases after us. “Where are you going?”

Damien pauses, half turning to address my brother. “We’re going to our suite so Seven can ride my cock until he’s happy again. Then, we’re going to call our therapist.”

Oliver sputters, but Damien ignores him, carrying me out of the music room and down the hallway. Each step jostles me against his solid frame, sending sparks of desire skittering across my skin, forcing out the panic and uncertainty.

In the elevator, I nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent. My stomach dips as we ascend, bringing us closer to home.

“Need you.” My lips brush his pulse point. “Need to feel you, to know you’re real.”

Damien palms my ass as he steps off the elevator. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

Down the hallway, Damien’s hold on me shifts to one arm while he punches in the code to our suite.

“Love you,” I whisper.

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” He kicks the door shut behind us and strides for the bedroom. “Now let me prove it.”

My body aches as I settle onto the couch, muscles sore from hours of being entangled together with my Alpha.

Now, he sits beside me, his solid presence acting as my anchor as Dr. Foster takes the seat across from us. Nerves flutterin my stomach, worried this latest episode set us back, and he’ll rescind his approval for Damien and me to be together.

I press closer to Damien’s side, craving the reassurance of his touch and the comfort of his pheromones. His arm wraps around my shoulders, and I relax into his warmth.

“Seven, I want to start by acknowledging how far you’ve come,” Dr. Foster begins. “The challenges you’ve faced over the last year have been overwhelming, but your determination to work through your trauma shows resilience and a desire to heal.”

Caught off guard by his praise, I clutch Damien’s hand beneath the blanket that covers our laps. Damien squeezes my fingers, and pride softens his handsome features.

Dr. Foster clasps his hands in his lap. “Damien explained what happened today, and there is no shame in your reaction. It does not mean you are broken.”

I bite my bottom lip to stop its trembling. We’ve spoken a lot about how I don’t always feel like a whole person, and I appreciate his validation.

“I don’t like how I shut down in front of O-Oliver.” I flush at stuttering over my brother’s name even as I squeeze Damien’s hand tighter. “S-seeing him here, I wasn’t expecting it, and…” Tears well up. “I don’t want to tell him what happened to m-me.”

“You’re not obligated to,” he reassures me. “It’s important to set clear boundaries with Oliver. His grief is real and valid, but it’s not your responsibility to bear. You can have empathy for his pain without taking it on as your own.”

“If he doesn’t respect that, then he won’t be allowed around you,” Damien growls. “The family house is big enough to keep your distance when he visits, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want to hurt…I love my brother.” Guilt churns in my gut. “But seeing him so suddenly, being reminded that I used tobe D-Dylan…it’s brought up a lot of confusion for me. How do I reconcile who I was with who I am now?”

I scoot closer to Damien, almost in his lap now. “I caused him so much pain. I feel like I…I don’t know…I owe him for disappearing.”

Damien’s jaw clenches, tension thrumming through his muscular frame. “You don’t owe him anything. You didn’t run away from him. You were kidnapped.”

He drops a kiss on the top of my head. “If you want, Dr. Foster and I can talk to him first and set your boundaries for you.”

“It’s a lot of external factors on top of your internal struggles,” Dr. Foster says with empathy. “Your feelings of guilt and confusion are valid and understandable. If you need me to, I will absolutely meet with Oliver. I can even facilitate your visits until you’re comfortable being alone with him, the same as I did with you becoming comfortable without Damien.”

Grateful for them both, I whisper, “I appreciate that.”

Dr. Foster leans forward. “Now, let’s review your grounding exercises for when you start to dissociate or panic, especially if it’s triggered by thoughts of Oliver or your life as Dylan.”

For the next thirty minutes, we practice focusing on my breath, engaging my senses with the rule of three, and he reminds me about counting backward from ten. All methods that flew straight out the window when confronted by my brother’s sudden appearance.

For Damien, Dr. Foster suggests active listening, him hearing me out without judgment, even if it means watching as I put myself into situations likely to cause panic, and him reflecting my feelings back to me.

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