Page 121 of The Delta's Rogue
I wrap one arm around Sarina’s waist and close the gap between us so she’s pressed tight against me. “Do you want to talk to her?” I dip my head close to her ear.
“Yes. Ineedto.”
“I can bring her into the room. Talking to her in the hall is too risky.”
She links her fingers with mine and wraps my arm tighter around her waist. “Okay.”
I walk us backwards, angling our bodies so they’re out of sight of the hallway. Reaching into my suit pocket, I take out the small magnetic key and hover it over the lock. The bolt rotates and slides from the frame, and Sarina watches it intently, vibrating with anticipation as we wait for the door to unlock.
As soon as it’s completely unlocked, I pull it open. “Brenna, I require your assistance with something.”
She walks around the half-open door, and once she’s in the room, Sarina darts forward and wraps her arms around her.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you.” Sarina clings to Brenna’s neck.
I let the door close and pocket the key, then I hover behind Sarina, hand resting in the small of her back.
Brenna returns Sarina’s hug, eyes closing. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me. I wouldn’t have trusted me either.”
They hold each other, each clutching the other fiercely in an unending embrace. I hate to interrupt their moment, but the longer we stay here, the longer I let our reunion last, the harder it will be for me to slip back into my “cruel Dom” act when we leave.
“We should go, Baby Girl.” I slide my hand around Sarina’s waist and lean closer to her ear. “I need to get you out of here.”
Sarina squeezes Brenna tighter, but Brenna breaks their hug and backs away, leaving Sarina with me. She drifts closer with a magnetic intensity, tucking herself into my side, as close to me as she can get.
“Is it possible to get clothes for her?” I ask Brenna. “She can’t walk out wearing my suit jacket—that would be a giant red flag—but there’s no way I can handle her leaving here naked.” I end my words with a quiet growl from my lycan.
My neck strains as I push back his primal rage at the memory of them forcing Sarina to expose herself to the audience. Seeing her kneeling completely naked was awful enough, but when they made her stand and bend over? I nearly lost it.
Brenna crosses the room towards the closet. “There should be something in here.” She opens the door to reveal several lacy, flimsy garments hanging from the rod. “Sometimes, the buyers like to see their girls in different outfits. Other times, the original outfits don’t last, so Amara always makes sure there are extras for each girl.” She rushes through the second reason, eyes flooding with shame.
Sarina’s jaw clenches as she stares at the barely there outfits dangling from the rack. None will cover much, but all are better than the alternative because there’s no way I can let her leave here wearing nothing. Not when our mate bond is this new. Not when the collar around her neck isn’t mine but one they forced onto her.
I angle my head towards Sarina, gazing down at her tense body. “Do you want to pick one, or would you like me to pick for you?”
Her lashes flutter as she blinks up at me with a sharp intake of breath. “What?”
“Do you want to choose your outfit?” I repeat.
Her head swivels to the closet and back to me, her eyes wide. “I can pick?”
“Yes.”
She swallows and continues to stare at me with a surprised, uncertain, and overwhelmed expression. Her mouth opens and closes, and then she lowers her gaze to my chest with lightning abruptness, her chin dipping in deference.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is no louder than a breeze across a field of grass.
I move so we’re facing each other and hold her face between my hands, lifting her focus back to mine. “Mírame,” I say. “Look at me.”
My grip on her and my tone are gentle but insistent. Her eyes lock on mine, and guilt ripples through me at the lack of resistance she shows, at her automatic impulse to listen to my commands.
“It’s okay if you can’t pick.” I step closer, giving in to my need to protect her—to shield her—from the world. “I’ll do it for you if you need me to. But I don’t want you to think you need to apologize to me every time something is too overwhelming for you.”
Her face contorts and stretches, lips pinching together and eyes shimmering with liquid, as she tries not to cry. I stand there, sending strength and love to her, while I wait for her to speak again.
She finally nods, inhaling through her nose as she does. “I can do it.” She nods again, stronger this time, but more for herself than for me. “I can do it.”
I shove my hands into my pockets so she can walk to the closet. I track every step she takes, watching her with an overbearing protectiveness. The invisible string connecting us stretches taut, tugging me towards her and urging me to stay at her side, but I stand my ground. She needs the space to do this on her own or decide that she can’t. If I follow her, she may interpret that as me thinking she’ll fail. For us to rebuild our trust, she needs to know I’ll respect her independence when she chooses to assert it while also being ready to catch her if she falls.
