Page 63 of Bound By Valor

I closed my eyes and shook my head, “It’s nothing.”

“Tell me, Zarek. You look like you’ve swallowed gasoline.”

I reluctantly smirked to lighten the mood, “How would you know what that looks like?”

Her gaze didn’t waver.

“Tell me,” she urged gently.

My focus was a blur; I shook my head slightly, attempting to clear the fog of memory. “Years ago,” I began, the words tumbling out with a tremor, “we were a squad of six.”

Leora’s hand found mine, her touch a silent encouragement to continue.

“Maxton ‘Psyche’ Prescott,” I said, the name bringing a lump to my throat. “He was an exceptional interrogator, though his combat skills… they could have used some work.” I paused, the past suddenly too present. “He didn’t make it back from a mission in Egypt. An American archaeology team had been attacked, and we were sent for a covert rescue. But politics were tense, and we walked into an ambush. Kabir barely made it out, and we… we lost Max.”

I drew in a shaky breath, feeling the old weight of guilt and grief pressing down on me. “Just now, it all came rushing back. I saw flashes—visions of this mission going wrong. Dylan bleeding out, Logan’s body burnt, Amelia in pain, Kabir shot right before my eyes.” My voice broke as I confessed, “It’s the same nightmare that haunted me after Max’s death. And when Zavier… when I lost him, it all turned into real fear.”

Unable to bear the weight of her gaze, I moved away and buried my head in my hands, overwhelmed.

“Zarek, look at me,” Leora’s voice was firm, her hands steady on my back, tracing comforting lines along my spine.

But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t lift my head, not yet, not while the ghost of those old fears clung to me so tightly.

“Please, look at me,” she urged and I couldn’t deny that pained voice. I looked at her expecting sympathy or maybe even blame. But her eyes shined with a strange resolve. She managed a small smile and said the words I needed to hear.

“Fear only shows us what we care about, Zarek. You care about them, it’s very evident. But know that you’re also cared for. I care for you. Your squad cares for you. And we fear for you too. I can’t give you empty promises and say nothing will happen. So, feel the fear, Zarek. Feel it, and let it guide you.”

Her words found their place deeper in my soul than I thought. Fear was care. Fear was love. And I loved this little family I had. I loved Leora. Fear washaving to lose them. Having them lose me. Leora hadn’t pacified me. She hadn’t rejected my fear. In fact, she asked me to feel it. She made me allow myself to feel it. And in that moment, I knew I had to tell her. Tell her that she was also feared for. Cared for. And loved.

“There was a time, Leora. When I thought I couldn’t have anybody fearing for me. And it wasn’t too long ago either. That time ended the day a woman dressed in a denim jacket came to my rescue and beat up the bad guys. It was when she willfully showed me she wanted me, unapologetically. It took me a while to realize that I could want her too. Hell, I really wanted to not want her, crave her, love her,” I cupped her cheeks, “But it’s too late now,Mi Corazón.”

With trembling lips, she let out a ragged breath, her eyes blinking back tears.

She finally whispered, “I’m falling in love with you too.”

I smiled widely at her, “Sweetheart, I’m so far down from falling in love with you, I’ll need you to catch up to me.”

Laughing softly even as her tears wet her cheeks, she pressed her lips to mine. I deepened the kiss instinctively, my hands cradling her neck. She was my everything, my all. I had fought so hard to keep this distance, to stay away, but in this moment, all that resistance seemed pointless. I knew, now, that I’d rather drown in her, be consumed by her presence, than wander in a world without her light. As I kissed her, the lingering fear dissolved. Each stroke of my tongue, a commitment. Each nibble, a prayer. Each breath, a vow.

Leora

By the time the sun set, I had finished two more mock tests. My score kept decreasing by a few points every time and I was mildly pissed. The landline in the room rang.

“Mateez,” I said.

“Hello, Leora,” a woman’s voice echoed, “This is Greta from the reception. I was told to inform you that your team has assembled in the lounge for a cocktail dinner. We’re sending you a dress and your presence is requested in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. Thank you, Greta.”

Just as I hung up, there was a knock at the door. I climbed out of the bed and opened it. A woman in her forties slid in with a black garment bag, a box that I assumed had shoes, and a makeup bag.

“Thank you,” I murmured.

She left and I opened the bag to see a beautiful plain black dress. It had a halter neck and flared below the knee.

There were also black strappy sandals with a low two-inch heel. Having barely worn heels in my whole life, I eyed them suspiciously.

I sighed and headed to the shower. After cleaning myself up, I slipped into the dress and heels, and walked over to the full length mirror.

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