Page 29 of Bound to the Guard

Damien’s tone turns defensive, almost like a growl. “Are you saying I’m bad for him?”

“No, not at all,” Dr. Walton reassures us. “In fact, I believe you’re helping him right now. But this kind of dependence can become unhealthy if it’s not addressed. Seven needs to heal, and while your bond is part of that, he also needs to regain a sense of self outside of you.”

Damien’s arms tighten around me, tension humming in his body. “What do you suggest?”

“Let’s move to the living room,” Dr. Walton suggests. “It will help to be in a less intimate space while we talk.”

With reluctance, we untangle ourselves from the security of our cocoon. Damien brings the blanket, and I stick close to him as we follow Dr. Walton out to the front room.

The dishes from breakfast still sit on the dining table, the air smelling of coffee and French toast. So my episode must not have been long.

Damien sits on the sofa and lifts the blanket in invitation. I dive under it, curling up into his side, and he tucks the quilt around us.

Dr. Walton takes a seat in the armchair across from us, his expression soft with compassion. “Seven, I believe you would benefit from therapy.”

The words land in my mind with the impact of a boulder dropped into still waters, sending ripples of fear and anxiety through every fiber of my being. How can I possibly speak about everything that happened to a stranger? I don’t want to relive it all. I want to lock it in a box deep in my mind and never open it again.

Dr. Walton breaks through my rising anxiety. “Seven needs a safe space to work through his trauma. A therapist can also help guide both of you, so this relationship remains healthy and supportive for you both.”

His face softens with understanding. “Seven, you have endured more than any person should ever have to. Seeking therapy is not a sign of weakness, but of strength. It gives you the tools to keep moving forward, rather than locking you in the past.”

I fidget with the fabric of my pajama pants, feeling stripped bare in front of this too-perceptive doctor. “Will… Will I still stay with Damien?”

Dr. Walton’s reply is gentle but firm. “That decision is up to you and Damien. Staying here can be a part of your healing process, but it must be balanced with steps towardindependence. Small things, like having your own routines and hobbies, can make a big difference.”

I twist toward Damien, searching for some kind of reassurance in his face. Who am I without him? Who am I if not Seven?

As if sensing my thoughts, Damien’s hand catches mine under the blanket. “We’ll do this together, on your terms.”

Tears blur my vision. “Okay… I’ll try.”

Dr. Walton smiles gently. “That’s all anyone can ask for.”

Damien looks at me, hesitates, then turns back to Dr. Walton. “We’ll talk to the therapist, too, but Seven and I are attracted to each other.”

My face instantly flames, and I duck my head against his shoulder.

“I suspected as much already,” Dr. Walton says without censorship.

“What about suppressants?”

Panic shoots through me, and I rear back. “No drugs!”

Sympathy fills Damien’s eyes. “They’re not experimental drugs like what the Doctor did. They’re regular over the counter stuff that all Omegas can take.”

A shudder goes through me. I fear my Heat coming on and driving Damien away, but I fear messing even more with my system. I already can’t get hard. What if adding suppressants takes away what little is left of what makes me an Omega?

“I don’t think suppressants are a good idea right now,” Dr. Walton interrupts. “We have no way of knowing what substances were used on Seven prior to arriving here, so we have no way to know how his body would react to adding new chemicals. We should wait for Seven to become healthy and run some blood tests before doing anything else.”

I shudder at the wordtestsand curl back against Damien, who curls his arm around my shoulders and nods.

Dr. Walton rises from his seat and gathers his medical bag. “I’ll email you a list of therapists who specialize in trauma and relationships like yours, and I’ll follow up in a few days to see how things are going.”

When the door closes behind him, the suite becomes safe again. Damien’s arm remains around me, anchoring me to the present, and I let myself believe everything will be okay.

“One step at a time, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “First order of the day, are you ready to try breakfast again?”

I’m not, but I need the calories, so I agree.

---