Page 112 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

He shifts closer, careful not to wake the others. “Want to talk about it?”

I consider the offer, the dream’s images still vivid in my mind. “I was running,” I say finally, my voice barely a whisper. “But I couldn’t get away. I wasn’t…I wasn’t strong enough.”

Ren doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. Instead, the moment I reach for him, he pulls me into his arms, cradling me there. I snuggle into him, pressing my face into his skin.

“Teach me,” I say suddenly, the words forming before I’ve fully processed the thought. “Teach me to defend myself.”

He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable in the dim light. “Are you sure?”

“I won’t be helpless again.” Conviction strengthens my voice. “I can’t be.”

He nods slowly, something like respect flickering in his gaze. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I echo, a little surprised by his easy agreement.

“Okay, I’ll teach you,” he clarifies. “Not just me—all of us will. Different skills, different approaches.”

Relief floods through me, followed by determination. “When can we start?”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Eager, aren’t you?”

My voice comes out small. Hesitant. “Wouldn’t you be?”

His smile fades, replaced by a seriousness that reminds me of all he’s been through, all he’s survived. “Yes,” he says simply. “I was.”

I reach for his hand in the darkness, finding it resting on the blanket between us. “I’m not trying to become some kind of warrior,” I whisper, wanting him to understand. “I just need to know that if something like this ever happens again, I’ll have options, you know. I’ll have a chance.”

He turns his hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “I understand,” he assures me. “Better than most. And I think it’s a good idea.”

“You do?”

He nods. “It’s not just about the physical skills. It’s about confidence. About knowing your own strength.” His thumbtraces circles on the back of my hand. “That knowledge changes how you move through the world. Makes you less of a target.”

I hadn’t thought of it that way, but he’s right. Part of what made me vulnerable was my own uncertainty.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” he promises. “Nothing too intense at first. Basics. Awareness. How to break common holds.”

“Thank you,” I say, squeezing his hand.

He squeezes back, arms circling me again. I shift in his hold, enjoying the sensation of him. I like being in his arms. Ren feels…good. Safe. But…even as he holds me, Ren feels…distant. As if a part of him is still set rigidly away from me. He holds me like I’m something fragile and yet…it’s almost like…he’s claimed me but can’t bear to keep me. I don’t know what to think of it. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. I try to push the thoughts away and focus on the fact we are here, safe, together.

After a while, he speaks again, his voice so soft I have to strain to hear it. I notice his arms around me feel tense, not quite relaxed like they were during my heat. He’s holding me, but there’s a careful distance in how he touches. Like he’s given his claim but is afraid to fully embrace what that means.

“The nightmares…they don’t go away entirely. But they get better. Less frequent. Less powerful.”

I turn to look at him, finding unexpected vulnerability in his expression. “You’ve had them?”

His throat moves before he gives me a slight nod.

“How long did it take? For yours?”

He considers the question. “Years,” he admits. “But I was dealing with them alone. You won’t be.”

The simple statement brings tears to my eyes. Because I know it’s true. Whatever comes next, I won’t face it alone. I have them. All of them.

“Try to sleep,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my brow. “I’ll keep watch for a while.”

“Okay,” I agree, settling back against the pillows. “But wake me if you get tired. We can take shifts.”

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