Page 45 of His Reward
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lucien
Iwish I could say that being kidnapped by my alpha and dragged off to his lair meant a night full of steaming hot sex that left me sore and worn out in all the right ways. What it actually meant was Boston carrying me gently out of the house where I’d holed myself up like a hermit without even realizing it and taking me to his modest apartment in the downtown building that housed his firehouse, rubbing my prescription moisturizer over my scars, then tucking me into bed like I was a kid.
“You’re sure this is okay?” he asked as he slid into bed beside me wearing nothing but an old pair of boxers.
“This is more than okay,” I sighed, snuggling my back against him once he pulled the covers over us.
I would have fallen asleep immediately, but the way Boston brushed his hand over my side as he spooned me, my left side, sent a spike of adrenaline through me. My scars. He was touching my scars, not my body. It wasn’t a therapeutictouch either. It was intimate, possessive. Under any other circumstances, a touch like that would have had me leaking slick and begging to be stuffed full of his cock, but all I could think was “What if he decides I’m hideous?”
“Um, I feel kind of bad saying this,” I murmured, “but could you not touch my scars like that? My skin is still so itchy.” It was true, but that wasn’t the reason I didn’t want him to touch me like that.
“Oh. Okay,” Boston said, a hint of awkwardness in his voice. Or maybe that was just what I sensed from him through the bond-like aura that always seemed to surround us. “Do you want to wear your pressure bandages to bed?”
“I should,” I sighed, “but I can’t be bothered to get up and put them on.”
“I can do it,” Boston said, shifting like he would get up and do just that.
I laughed. “That’s not very sadistic mob boss of you.”
Boston relaxed and settled by my side again. “You’ll keep quiet if you know what’s good for you, boy,” he growled, assuming that persona. “As soon as I feel like it, I’m going to stripe that pretty, pink backside of yours until it looks like a candy cane, and then I’m going to lick it until you’re begging me to put a baby in you.”
I chuckled and snuggled closer to him, lifting his arm and pulling it around me like a blanket. “Oh, no,” I said flatly, closing my eyes with a grin. “Please don’t do that, big scary alpha. I would really hate that.”
Boston laughed at my teasing, then leaned in to kiss my scarred shoulder. I only tensed for a second before relaxing into sleep.
That washow the first night went. I was too wrung out from watching the TV segment and heartbroken because the entire world that I’d given my life to seemed to be moving on without me. I didn’t care about anything but sleeping in my alpha’s arms, surrounded by his large, warm body and his rich, tobacco scent.
The next morning brought a whole different set of concerns and insecurities with it.
“Come down to the station with me,” Boston said after we’d showered, he’d rubbed moisturizer on my scars, and we’d both dressed.
We were eating breakfast, and I nearly dropped my toast. “I have therapy at ten,” I said, not sure if I was using it as an excuse to stay right where I was until then or not.
Boston shrugged one arm. “I know, and I’ll take you. But I have a bunch of admin work to get done downstairs, and I prefer to keep my purchases in sight at all times.” He grinned like the whole thing was our sexy joke, but I knew he was serious about wanting me close all day.
I took a breath and set down my toast, reaching for my coffee instead. It was a pointless gesture meant to buy me a little time.
“Alright,” I said at last. “I’ll stay with you wherever you go, Sir.” I figured if I put myself in the mindset of belonging to Boston, then maybe a touch of subspace could help me ward off whatever reclusive tendencies I was starting to develop.
I second-guessed that strategy as soon as we headed down to the firehouse. It was pretty cool, all things considered. It was neat to see a fire engine up close, and the garage area was filled with fascinating and technical equipment. I thought it was neat that Boston’s office had been built into a loft accessed by either a spiral staircase or an actual fireman’s pole. And the lounge area where the firefighters on duty waited was bigger than I would have thought it would be and filled with large, plush furniture.
It was the other guys, all of whom were alphas, that had me bristling with nerves, like my scars were itching on the inside as well as on the surface.
“Wow! You’re Lucien Monteverdi,” one of the younger guys with dark, curly hair and large eyes said, jumping up from the sofa where the guys were watching TV as Boston brought me into the room. “I’ve been a fan of yours for years.”
I blinked. That wasn’t remotely what I expected a tough-looking young alpha to say.
“Um, thanks?” I said, absentmindedly touching my scarred arm.
“You’re looking fantastic,” another of the guys, an older alpha named Ernie, said, approaching me with a smile, like he was my dad. “Those scars are a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw them.”
The instinct to run gripped me for a second. Of course he’d seen me before. These guys were all firefighters in Boston’s company. They’d probably been there the night of the fire. They all could have helped to save my life.
“Thank you,” I blurted. “For helping save my life that night.”
My heartfelt thanks was met by modest smiles and friendly guffaws, complete with blushes, that instantly endeared me to them all.
