Page 62 of Chain Me Knot

Phoenix's laugh follows us, warm and genuine. “Possessive much, brother?”

Soren chuckles, “Don’t you know it!”

He walks down the hallway, still cradling me against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my ear makes me feel oddly safe, but reality starts creeping in and the old discomforts ooze from my broken parts. “I can walk, Soren.”

“I'm not ready to put you down.” His voice carries no command, just honest admission. “Besides, we're here.”

The moment we enter the bathroom, panic claws up my throat. The large tub is threatening. All that exposed porcelain, all that vulnerability required. To get in that tub I’ll be naked, defenseless. Exposed.

My mind flashes to memories best left buried, yet they rise, seeking blood inside my skull.

I don’t want to feel small again.

My scent goes from sweet to burned in a second.

Soren stills, his gaze sharp as he gently stands me on my feet. The movement is careful, deliberate, giving me space to retreat if I need to. He kneels in front of me.Kneels. Even kneeling he’s almost the same height as me, but still, he has to tilt his head back a little bit. His gaze is serious and so open I see the flecks of gold that swim in the hazel.

“I’m not going to do anything you don’t want.” He doesn’t touch me, just fists his hands on his thighs. “I’d like to fill the tub and make you comfortable. I’m not going to take advantage of you. I’m only here to make sure you’re safe, but if you want me to go, I will. You set the pace, Emma.”

I test the air, taking a small sip of his scent which is clean and clear, containing nothing but genuine concern. The purity of it helps me breathe easier and my tight muscles start to relax. I don’t want him to leave.

“If you’re worried, I'll draw the bath, put in so many bubbles they'll reach the ceiling.” A small smile tugs at his lips. “Then I'll turn around while you undress and won't look back until you're safely covered in foam. Would that be all right?”

I study his face, looking for any sign of deception, any hint of ulterior motive, but his expression remains open, honest. He lets me study him, not moving an inch, doing exactly what he said he’d do.

“All I want right now is to make sure you're all right and talk to you without all the craziness going on.” He moves then, running a hand over his buzzcut. “You can ask me anything about us, about the pack, about whatever you want to know. I'll tell you the truth, always. The good, the bad and the ugly.”

The band tightening around my chest eases and I can draw in a breath, because…because I do want to know about them. I want to hear his voice. What he has to say. I want to know it all.

“Okay.” The word comes out steadier than I expect, carrying more certainty than I thought I possessed.

Soren offers me a small smile. “Okay,” he repeats.

He turns to the tub, adjusts the taps and water rushes out of the spigot. Steam rises from the water in delicate spirals as it fills the tub. He uncaps a bottle, pouring a lavender liquid that immediately begins to foam. True to his word, bubbles start to build, piling higher and higher until they look like clouds floating on water.

“I'm turning around now,” he says, suiting action to words. His back is broad in his sweater, shoulders set in a deliberately relaxed pose that still manages to convey protection. Nothing threatening, nothing demanding, just steady presence and patient waiting. “Take your time. Just let me know when you want me to turn back.”

I still hesitate, fingering the hem of my sweater. The clothes are ruined, salt water and sand have taken their toll, but I can't bring myself to feel bad about it. For the first time in years, I experienced joy in these clothes. Played in them. Laughed in them. Felt alive in them.

I had fun!

The water looks inviting, steam curling up in beckoning tendrils and suddenly I can’t wait to get in there. I drop the towel, peel off the clinging fabric and slip into the tub before fear can take hold again.

The warmth envelops me, making my skin tingle and prickle as circulation returns to cold limbs. Bubbles rise around me, creating a protective barrier that smells like comfort and safety. The heat seeps into muscles I didn't even know were tense, making me sink deeper with a small sigh of pleasure.

Salt and sand dissolve from my skin, washing away the physical remnants of my first beach visit but leaving the memories intact.

I wrap my arms around my knees. “You can turn around now.”

Soren turns, his expression neutral as he kneels beside the tub and wets a washcloth. “Close your eyes. Let me get the salt off your face.”

I hesitate for a moment, but something in his steady presence makes me brave. I let my eyes shut, giving him this small trust. The washcloth ghosts over my skin as he traces my forehead, my cheeks, the bridge of my nose. He takes such care around my eyes, as if I'm made of spun glass, while he removes every trace of salt and sun.

He stops and I open my eyes to find him gazing at me. His scent blooms through the steam, spicing the floral soap with masculine notes of sandalwood. The combination wraps around me, making my head swim in the best possible way. Something deep and hidden inside me stirs, responding. A thrill runs through my core, making my skin prickle with awareness.

With want. Dangerous, dangerous want.

“May I have your hand?” he asks.

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