Page 49 of Tempest Blazing
That drew a small smile from me. I could picture it perfectly—Draven's restless energy finding no outlet except endless movement and the occasional intimidation of innocent appliances.
Mason's arms tightened around me slightly, a protective cocoon that made the outside world feel distant and unimportant. Through the bond, I could feel his own exhaustion—the emotional toll of feeling me in danger, the physical strain of following the mate bond across who knew how many miles, the relief that was still too raw and overwhelming to fully process.
"Sleep," he murmured against my hair. "I've got you."
???
I woke to the scent of bacon and something that might have been pancakes, wrapped in warmth that felt like safety made tangible. Mason's arms were still around me, his breathing deep and even against my hair. The mate bond hummed between us, steady as a heartbeat, flooding me with his calm.
For a moment, I let myself exist in that space—no thoughts, no fears, just the simple reality of being held. But consciousness brought awareness, and awareness brought the memory of everything that had happened. The collar. The arena. Kane's fury and the way I'd nearly shattered under it.
Mason stirred as I shifted, his arms tightening reflexively before his eyes opened. Those dark eyes immediately locked on my face, searching.
"How are you feeling?" His voice was rough with sleep, but the concern was crystal clear.
I took inventory. The ache in my ribs was barely a whisper now. The exhaustion that had dragged at me last night was gone, replaced by that restless energy that meant my body was ready to move even if my brain wasn't quite there yet.
"Better," I said, and meant it. "Much better."
Relief flickered across his features. "Good. The others are awake—I can hear them moving around. Ciaran thinks we should eat and talk."
Of course he did. Because that's what responsible adults did after magical mayhem and emotional upheaval—they sat down over breakfast and discussed it like civilized people instead of hiding under the covers until the world made sense again.
The thought of facing all of them—Kane's intensity, Draven's protective hovering, Ciaran's knowing looks—made my stomach twist. Not because I didn't want to see them, but because I felt so damn exposed. Like every emotion was tattooed across my skin in permanent ink.
"I need a shower first," I said, already starting to untangle myself from Mason's arms. "And some time to... collect my thoughts."
Mason's hands lingered on my arms as I sat up, his touch gentle but reluctant to let go. A pulse of warmth traveled through the mate bond—not his emotions, but something deeper. Pure reassurance, like he was wrapping me in invisible armor. "Take all the time you need. I'll tell them you're awake but not ready yet."
The understanding in his voice nearly undid me. He got it—the need to rebuild some semblance of control before facing the group. The mate bond carried more than just his emotions; it carried his instinctive knowledge of what I needed.
"Thank you," I whispered, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before sliding off the bed.
The bathroom was just as luxurious as the rest of Ciaran's sanctuary, all marble and gleaming fixtures that probably cost more than my annual salary. I turned the shower as hot as I could stand and stepped under the spray, letting the water wash away yesterday's nightmare.
But as the steam rose around me, as the heat soaked into my bones, I caught sight of myself in the glass shower door. And froze.
Dark bruises circled my throat like a grotesque necklace, the marks from the collar still vivid against my skin. My ribs showed faint discoloration where they'd been cracked. There were othermarks too—small cuts and scrapes from the arena, evidence of a night I'd rather forget.
My hands came up to my throat involuntarily, fingers tracing the bruised skin. The flesh felt hot and tight under my touch, phantom pressure lingering like the collar was still there, still stealing my breath. The collar was gone, but I could still feel it. The weight of it. The way it had stolen my voice, my power, my sense of self.
You were helpless.
The thought hit like a physical blow, and suddenly I was struggling to breathe. The shower walls felt too close, the steam too thick. I pressed my back against the marble, hands shaking as I tried to ground myself.
You couldn't fight back. Couldn't protect yourself. Couldn't even speak.
The water kept falling, but I barely felt it. All I could feel was the memory of that collar, the way it had made me small and powerless and wrong. How easily they'd put it on me. How completely it had worked.
What if it happened again? What if next time, there was no rescue? What if—
Stop.I forced the spiral to halt, forced myself to take a real breath. The collar was gone. I was safe. Mason and the others had made sure of that.
The mate bond pulsed again, stronger this time. Mason's presence wrapped around my panic like a shield, steady and unshakeable. He wasn't intruding—just reminding me I wasn't alone.
But the fear lingered, clinging to my skin like oil. The sense that my body wasn't entirely mine anymore, that something had been taken from me that I wasn't sure how to reclaim.
I finished washing mechanically, going through the motions without really being present. When I finally turned off the water and stepped out, I felt hollow. Clean, but hollow.
