Page 136 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
"I've got you." I carry her back to the bedroom.
Her fingers clutch weakly at my shirt.
"Everything's falling apart." She whispers against my neck. "I can't make it stop."
I place her gently on the bed. Map my next move. The medical equipment I'd installed remains in the corner of theroom. A reminder of how close I came to losing her. Not relevant to the current scenario. Focus.
"Vanessa." I kneel before her. My voice steady. "I'm going to use restraints to help you concentrate. To give your mind boundaries when it can't create its own. Do you understand?"
She meets my eyes briefly. The first deliberate eye contact since waking.
"Yes." The word barely audible but definitive.
I move to my dresser. Open the third drawer. Beneath tactical gear and extra ammunition rests what I need. A coil of black rope, soft and pliable.
When I turn back, her gaze fixes on the rope. Her face shows no fear or rejection. Her shoulders lower slightly. The first sign of relief.
"This isn't just sex." I clarify as I return to her. "This is structure."
"Please." She extends her wrists toward me.
"Lie down." My voice gentle but firm. "On your back."
She complies without hesitation. Positions herself in the center of the bed. I evaluate the optimal restraint configuration for her current mental state. Simple. Secure. Grounding without overwhelming.
I secure her right wrist to the bedpost with methodical movements. Each loop of rope distributed for comfort without risking circulation problems. The left wrist follows, bound to the opposite corner. Her arms form a wide V above her head. Secure but not strained.
"Concentrate on the rope." My voice low and steady. "Feel where it touches. Count the crossings."
Her eyes follow my hands as I work. Each breath she takes becomes slightly less ragged.
"One." She whispers. "Two."
I nod approvingly. "Keep counting."
By the seventh crossing, her breathing has slowed. I secure the last knot with a measured tug. Enough pressure to feel constant. Not enough to mark or damage.
I move to her ankles next. Guide her to extend her legs. The rope whispers against her skin as I wrap and bind. Creating matching cuffs that secure each ankle to the bottom corners of the bed frame.
"That's it." Her eyelids grow heavier. "Just the rope. Just this moment."
Her body forms an X across my bed. Secured at four points. Exposed. Vulnerable. Safe.
"How many points of pressure can you feel?" I ask.
Her forehead furrows in concentration. "Eight... no, nine."
"Good." I check each connection. Adjust tension where needed. "Attend only to those nine points."
Unfamiliar warmth spreads through my chest as I work. A purpose beyond mission parameters or tactical necessity. This isn't about possessing her. This is about creating boundaries her mind can't create for itself. Protection, not possession.
I sit back on my heels to assess. The transformation is immediate and visible. Vanessa's face, previously twisted with panic, smooths into calm attentiveness. Her breathing deepens and regulates. Her eyes, clear for the first time in hours, move deliberately across the rope pattern securing her limbs.
"Better?" I ask.
"Yes. My head... I can hear myself think again."
Something changes in her expression. The tightness around her eyes eases. Replaced by alert curiosity. Her gaze tracks along the rope patterns I've created. Following each line and intersection with newfound interest.
