Page 20 of Invade Me

"You don’t know what I deserve," he blurted out, his tone robotic, like he was trying to distance himself from the situation.

But it didn’t feel genuine. I could sense it—he wasn’t happy.

Was the reality of what happened sinking in for him too?

Instinctively, I moved to the side, rolling off his body. His bound hands, which had been above his head, came down, and I quickly untied him.

Then, without thinking, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close. It was pure instinct, and he didn’t protest—something that only strengthened my conviction that this situation was far from ideal for him. If I wasn’t criticizing him, he was doing it himself.

Damien lay quietly in my arms, his forehead resting against my chest, and I gently stroked his hair. It was such an unusual thing to do—completely inappropriate for an employee to show this kind of tenderness to a client. But I couldn’t stop. Something in me justknewhe secretly wanted it, needed it. Almost… like we were true lovers, like we meant something more to each other.

His confession—that it was his first time—changed something in me. It seemed crucial to give him this moment, to acknowledge its significance. So, I pressed him tighter to me, stroking his hair gently. I couldn’t just get up and leave him like this. That would’ve been even more detrimental.

Strangest of all, I could almost hear his thoughts, clear as day. He wanted me to hold him—desperately.

Gradually, as long minutes passed, Damien started relaxing in my arms, calming down, finding comfort in my touch. Heliked it—loved it, even. And he appreciated that I was giving him my private time, my tenderness. I had never experienced this kind of harmony with another person in my life.

But then the confusion bubbled up again, insistent and impossible to ignore. Only with the highest mateship could people share this kind of connection—this unshakable awareness of each other’s feelings.

After what felt like half an hour of lying together in silence, I realized I couldn’t prolong this any longer. "I’m sorry, Damien, but I have to go now," I whispered, gently moving away.

His hands, which had been resting lightly on my chest, fell to his sides. On a sudden impulse, I took one of them and placed a soft kiss on the back of it.

Then I sat up, and our eyes met. He looked into mine through the holes in my ski mask.

"Your eyes are almost fluorescent turquoise. Are you wearing contact lenses?" he murmured.

"No," I said softly. "This is my natural eye color."

Silence filled the room. It really was time to leave.

As I started to roll off the bed, I failed miserably at dodging the massive cum puddle, and my elbow plunged straight into it with a wet, obnoxious smack. However, I remained unfazed and kept my cool. Unfortunately, in my desperate attempt to avoid sinking further into the cum pool, I nudged the edge of his nest—messing up part of it.

No!

I froze mid-movement, a shiver running through me.

For some reason, it didn’t feel right. I was as though I’d damaged something precious, something I had no right to disturb. It was almost as if I’d taken something away from him.

Without thinking much, I quickly bent down and, with clumsy hands, started to repair what I had disrupted. I knew I shouldn’t; alphas had no business meddling with nests, touchingthem, or even commenting on them. But I couldn’t ignore the strange urgency I felt to fix it.

Damien watched me in silence, just sitting there with his eyes wide open. I spliced the blanket back together with the decorative red ropes and reinforced the structure with a long, silky scarf. My movements were not graceful, but I was determined.

After a few minutes of effort, the job was done.

"Why did you do that?" Damien asked quietly. "Why did you fix my nest?"

Did he seriously ask me that? It seemed so obvious to me. I looked up at him, still sitting in the middle of the nest, his disheveled amaranth hair framing his face. He was naked, his pale pink body marked by delicate freckles and… my kisses, glowing softly in the golden light of the bedside lamp.

I mumbled, unsure of my own reasoning, "It’s obvious. Out of respect for you. It’s the most beautiful nest I’ve ever seen, by far! And I want it to stay perfect." The words felt silly, even absurd, but I couldn’t take them back.

Not wanting to embarrass myself further, I straightened up and made my way to the door. At the doorstep, I paused, turning back to him one last time.

"Thank you for the honor of being your first," I muttered. "And… sorry for breaking the script. I’ll make sure you get your money back."

"There’s no need," he said gently. "You didn’t destroy it. You re-invented it. You made itperfect."

Our eyes locked for a few…perfectseconds.

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