Page 13 of Death By Chocolate

The finality in his voice should irritate me, but instead, I feel a warmth blooming in my chest. I push the feeling aside, focusing on the practical. "And your business? Your obligations?"

"They can wait," Xeno says dismissively. "You're my priority."

I want to argue further, to point out all the flaws in his plan, but exhaustion is creeping in, my eyelids growing heavy. "This isn't over," I mutter, even as I feel myself sinking back into the pillows.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Xeno says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Youric, he calls, “Come take care of her.”

Youric enters the room, a frown on his face, the same blonde on his heel. “I need to speak with you, X.”

“Not now.” He gestures to my bandage. “Take care of her, then leave.”

The air crackles with tension between the brothers. I’d be lying if I denied I like that Xeno is unflappable. The man knows what he wants—to stay with me. As if he senses me watching him, he gives me a rare smile.

It vanishes the second Youric touches my bandaged arm. “Shit,” I grunt, gripping the sheets with my free hand. Burning pain fires through my chest. Oh God, I pray for blackness to take me. Youric says nothing, just pulling and pushing on my wound. I smell my blood, and the tang sucks me back to Oscar, to that bedroom, to the pain. My breathing becomes ragged, coming in quick gulps, no longer deep breaths. “Wa–it, sto–”

Xeno jumps to his feet, grabbing the hand punishing the sheets. “Ma Cherie,” he says, his voice steady, and I snatch hold of his calm, trying to anchor my rising heart rate. He threads his fingers through mine. “You got this.”

He sounds more assured than I feel. Will I ever be free of the past? With his thumb, Xeno strokes my palm. His touch is soothing. Slowly, I wrestle my breath and pulse back to a comfortable rhythm.

Afterwards Youric and the blonde work in tandem, clearing away sterile drapes, blood-soaked gauze, and tape. I don’t miss the disapproval in his eyes. A part of me wonders if he thinks Xeno is good for the likes of me. Not that it matters. He’s here. And, he’s staying. Questioning why I trust him at his word is useless at this point. The truth is we want the same thing.

“Sleep. I’m here,” he says like all I need is him at my side.

As I drift off, I'm vaguely aware of Xeno settling into the chair beside my bed. His overwhelming presence feels comforting. Safe.

I sleep fitfully, drifting in and out of consciousness. Each time I surface, Xeno is there, a constant vigil in the dim light of the hospital room. Sometimes, he's on his phone, speaking in hushed but commanding tones. Other times, he's just watching me, his gaze a tangible weight.

At some point during the night, I reach out, my hand finding him in the darkness. His fingers intertwine with mine instantly, warm and solid. I don't let go, and neither does he.

Come morning, we'll have to address this — whatever this is between us. The lines we've crossed, the boundaries we've blurred. I'll have to remind him that I'm his bodyguard, not his possession. That my job is to protect him, not to need him.

But for now, in the quiet of the night, with his hand anchoring me to consciousness, I allow myself this moment of weakness. Because deep down, I know the truth I've been fighting against since I first saw Xeno Voss. I might be an alpha, fiercely independent, and unwaveringly strong. But even alphas need a pack. And somehow, against all odds and my better judgment, Xeno has become mine.

6

XENO

DON’T HIDE

Dani’s hiding from me. I feel the barrier as solid as her hand in mine. It’s been two days. If I thought she was a lone wolf, now I know for sure.

Calls out—zero.

Visitors—zero.

Conversations with me—damn near zero.

She hasn’t asked me one question about the airport attack. My enemies? My business associates? Why I’m in the United States when most of my dealings are abroad?

What is it she doesn’t want me to know, and why?

Her dreams give way to nightmares. Vivid memories of her and a man named Oscar. I don’t tell her that she whimpers in her sleep. No survivor wants to hear that the shield weakens when they are most vulnerable, that there are cracks that can never be sealed.

Does she think I’d betray her? Or is she protecting Oscar, the man she calls when the restraints of conscious control are loosened? Is Oscar the man who made her believe she has no value? Or is he the benefactor of grooming that happened underMommie and Daddy’s roof? The idea that she places my safety above her own pisses me off. If this is a pattern, I’m about to rewire her circuit board. Youric discharged her from the clinic twenty minutes ago. Since everything anyone could ever need is available at The Governor, the trek to my registered suite is brief and ends at a private elevator that opens into the living area.

I watch Dani from across my penthouse suite, noting how the sunset paints her skin in amber and gold. The wall of windows before her frames the D.C. skyline like a living portrait, the city spread out forty stories below. Two days. Two fucking days of watching her fight through pain, of being the one to help her sit up, feed her, hold her hand while the nurse changes her dressings. Two days of growing more possessive with each passing hour, especially when Marcus' name keeps appearing on her caller ID.

Her ex-lover. The thought alone makes my blood boil.

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