Page 89 of Chain Me Knot

Asher’s.

The realization unfurls inside me like the sunlight filling the room. He’s still here with me.

I lift my head, blinking against the golden light, and find his serious gaze already trained on me. No distraction. No hurry. Just me, his entire world in this quiet moment.

I slept on him like this all night.

And I didn’t havea flashback.

The thought sends warmth through me. My legs are still tangled with his, my arm draped over his waist, my fingers curled lightly against the rough trail of hair leading down his stomach. He let me cling to him. Didn’t move even though it must have been uncomfortable for him.

“This is nice. Waking up like this. Holding you,” I say.

A shadow flickers through our bond. Anger, sharp and protective, but not directed at me. His hand slides up my bare back, fingers splaying between my shoulder blades, holding me closer.

“You have it backward, Moonbeam. You let me hold you all night long. That’s the true gift,” His voice is a gravel-soft rumble.

The truth of his words settles into my bones. This bond doesn’t lie.

I don’t tell him how, after Pack Carmichael used me, they’d leave me alone in my own filth for days, my body aching, my skin crawling with the memory of their hands. How I’d try to scrub myself down with a corner of the blanket and cold water from the sink and curl into myself on the cold basement floor, wishing for touch even as I feared it. Those memories have no place in this moment.

They’re nothing but ghosts.

Asher’s bond hums between us, golden and alive, so much stronger than the fractured, pain-fogged connections Pack Carmichael forced on me. In fact, they don’t even simmer hot and stinging in the back of my head anymore. The bonds are still there, but faded and frayed. They’re dying. Or perhaps it’s because the bond I share with Asher is so much stronger and brighter than those ever could be.

It simply drowns them out, too brilliant for darkness to exist.

Golden light slides across Asher’s features, chasing away the shadows and illuminating every quiet detail of him. Sleep-rumpled, warm, impossibly handsome, he looks younger here, peaceful in a way he rarely allows himself to be. My fingertips tingle with the need to touch, and before my nerves can get in the way, I reach up, lightly tracing the pad of one finger along the strongcurve of his jaw.

His stubble is roughened silk against my fingertip, sending a delicate thrill skipping down my spine. His dark eyes remain fixed solely on me, deep and warm, a quiet intensity simmering behind their gentle calm. I breathe in slowly, soaking up every reassuring note of smoky whiskey and leather.

The only things missing are my two other alphas.

“Where did Phoenix and Soren go?” I ask.

Asher’s brows pull together, tension shadowing the soft warmth of his gaze. Frustration, sharp and helpless, bleeds clearly through our connection.

“They’re already back at their screens, chasing any lead they can find on Alpha1465,” he says.

A quiet shiver slips beneath my skin at the note of worry beneath his lingering frustration. “The investigation isn't going well, is it? No breakthroughs, even after days?”

“We've looked everywhere, Moonbeam, but whoever Alpha1465 is, they're deeply buried and extremely protected. Every lead hits a dead end.” Asher draws a faintly unsteady breath, arms tightening protectively around me, firm and warm. “And now Cole has alerted us that the commissioner has personally ordered us to return you.”

“The commissioner? Shouldn’t he be on your side?” I ask.

Asher’s jaw clenches, a muscle twitching just beneath the shadowed line of his stubble. “We suspect he’s anything but on our side. In fact, he’s been implicated with Sylvia Mercer and Evelyn Hardwick. We’ve been quietly trying to link him, but we haven’t found anything.”

I heard Matthew threatening to use his connection with the commissioner to get me back, so the information comes as no surprise. I tuck closer into the circle of Asher’s arms, needing his closeness to steady the uneasy pounding of my heart. His rich smoky whiskey and sturdy leather wraps around me but I catch the sharper note beneath, a subtle acrid smoke, a bitter edge of worry he’s trying hard to conceal.

“If I knew anything, I’d tell you. But they kept us in the dark and didn’t tell us anything,” I say. Mercer and Hardwick were very careful about that. The onlything we knew was that they were going to sell us, and our lives would belong to the highest bidder. “You have to believe me.”

He exhales, slow and measured, his fingers brushing through my hair. “I believe you, Moonbeam. I just don’t like unknown variables. Especially when it compromises your safety.”

My throat tightens, fear swirling coldly in my stomach, but he cups my cheek and tilts my face to lock eyes. His gaze is fierce, unrelenting, a promise etched clearly there in deep, blazing conviction. “Listen to me, Emma. Whatever happens, whoever pressures us, we won't turn you back over. Not to Pack Carmichael, not to anyone. The commissioner's involvement doesn't change my vow to keep you safe.”

I release a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, melting slightly into the unwavering warmth of him. Yet, even as comfort washes over me, an icy sliver remains, deep beneath my ribs.

“We can't hide here forever. Sooner rather than later, the vultures are going to close in. If we don't find answers soon, we'll just make another move to stay ahead of the game,” he says.

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