Page 28 of Knot Your Damsel

Right on cue, my stomach rumbles.

“Dinner sounds like a good plan.” Caleb is about to get up but Mathew slides me onto the chair and gets up himself.

“I’ll bring them out here. The weather is too nice to sit inside.” He quickly goes inside, his dick clearly tenting the bathrobe and I can’t help my grin as I look after him.

I know what I’d like to have for dessert…

I’m wokenup by an unfamiliar scent. I blink, fighting against sleep as Caleb’s heavy and warm body is wrapped around me, his drowsy pheromones and slow breathing making it really hard to wake up.

Then I realise we’re not at home and I remember we’re at Mathew’s place, in his bedroom.

Though, he’s no longer in bed with us.

I look at the door to the balcony and notice that Mathew is standing on the balcony in nothing but his boxer briefs, looking out, a cigarette in his hand. That’s what I smelled.

He looks troubled. His shoulders slumped, his stance hunched. He looks worse than he did a couple of hours ago when I found him with Caleb.

He looks so alone that it makes my heart ache, not able to stand the thought that he’d ever feel alone again. Not now he’s ours.

Carefully, so I don’t wake Caleb up, I slip out of his embrace and pad over to the door, my eyes never leaving Mathew’s form.

“Couldn’t sleep?” My voice is soft and groggy, but Mathew must have been so lost in thought that he didn’t notice me as he twists around, ready to strike me, before he realises he’s in no danger.

“Sorry.” He clears his throat, stubbing out the barely smoked cigarette. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.” He looks me over and gives me a soft smile, trying to hide his pain again. “I like you in my clothes.”

He reaches out and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me against him.

I’m wearing one of his button-ups, a simple white cotton one which is long enough to almost be a dress on me, and a pair of his boxer briefs, which manage to only barely stay on my ass. I prefer not to sleep in the nude and this was the best we’ve got.

“Maybe I should always dress you in my clothes. Would at least make it easier to make sure my scent is always on you,” Mathew mumbles, but he already seems distracted by something on his mind as he leans into the corner of the railing around the balcony and stares out over the fields.

He keeps his arms around my waist, pulling me back against him, making me lean against him, the movement so natural, like we’ve been doing this for years.

I stare with him out over the fields for a while, watching the clouds pass through the starry sky —no moon, so it’s quite dark. Slowly breathing in the warm summer air, filled with the scent of drying grass, flowers and a hint of Mathew’s pheromones.

Then I glance at the ashtray and notice that all the cigarettes in it are barely smoked. Most of them only lit and then died out on their own.

His arms around me tighten a fraction, his huff of a sad laugh in my hair sending goosebumps all over my body. “I know, it’s a bad habit. I need something in my hands while thinking, and the scent relaxes me. I don’t actually smoke, not really. It’s just the…”

He moves his hand in front of us, his fingers making various shapes, like there’s an invisible cigarette between them.

I reach up, sliding my fingers between his, holding on. “You can hold my hand. You won’t need cigarettes now I’m here. You can just hold me.” My heart skips a beat, surprised by my own actions and my face burns.

That was so embarrassing!

I have no idea where the idea came from. But the way he’s holding himself, standing here so alone in the dark, it makes me sad. It makes me feel like he’s always been alone and has had to face everything on his own with nobody there to care for him.

And those thoughts make my heart ache, make me wish I could make everything better for him, make me want to make sure he’ll never be alone again.

He pulls our entwined hands against my chest as he wraps himself around me, his face in my neck, his breathing uneven. “I hope you’ll still be mine once you find out who I really am. What I’m really like.”

I hold onto his arms, trying to comfort him, as my heart races and I can’t stop my tears.

How can I feel this much for a man I barely know? For someone who kidnapped me? Who brought me here against my will? Who could kill me without a second thought?

But I know why. Because underneath it all, I recognise the same fucked up determination to live as I have in my own heart.

Like we’re broken pieces that fit together in ways that could heal us or could be our destruction…

---