Page 40 of Unholy Gambit: Checkmate in Blood
“Yes, while you were catatonic, I checked your injuries to be certain both of you could survive them. I…” He shook his head. “I gathered my anticoagulant venom on my finger and held it to an artery so you wouldn’t lose too much more blood, but venom isn’t supposed to act as a magical catalyst for oaths.”
Aury felt the weight of it, even if she didn’t fully understand. Not just Axel’s guilt, but the concern about unknown consequences.
She looked back to Dr. Woods. “I know you’re going to say we need to unpack all this, but I have no idea where to start.”
She inhaled. Took inventory of her mental state. “It doesn’t feel as if I need to talk about it. It’s a relief, finally knowing. Not having toguessanymore.”
He nodded. “That feeling may hold, but it may also change without warning. If it does, it’s okay. If you suddenly need to cry, scream, rage — it’s as valid a reaction as the relief you feel now. There’s no right or wrong way to react, just be sure you’re honest with yourself about how you’re handling it.”
“Thank you.” She took a breath, double-checked her status. “I feel okay. For now, at least, and you probably want to get home to your family.”
“My last appointment Friday is at three. If you want to check in, for any reason, call and tell my receptionist I have you penciled in for four, and you’d like to confirm it.”
Aury nodded. She wasn’t scheduled to see him until Tuesday, and knowing she could see him in a little over forty-eight hours made her breathe a little easier.
“Thank you. You’ve always taken such good care of me.”
Dr. Woods looked to her left, and she felt the tensions shift in the room again. “Take care of her, vampire. Call me if you think she needs me and she’s being hard-headed about it.”
“I value the place you’ve had, and will continue to have, in her life. As you said, we are more than our inner monsters.
* * * *
Axel walked the doctor to the door, thanked him again, and closed it with relief. His inner vampire didnotappreciate another male — especially a strong, dominant wolf — having a claim of any kind on his Aurélie.
He’d have to deal with it, though. The man had no romantic interest in her. Purely professional. If he could help her make sense of her life, then he was necessary. And, as he’d pointed out, they were more than their inner monsters.
He turned to see her still sitting on the sofa, so small. So brave.
The plan was to order food in and feed her, but her scent told him she wasn’t ready for food yet. Her body was processing adrenaline and memory, not hunger.
He sat with her, and she curled into his chest like she belonged there. Like he was the only solid thing left in the world, and maybe he was.
Which, of course, she did. She’dalwaysbelonged there, even when she was five and he’d kept his distance, even when the dreams carried his face but no name.
Now she knew. Now she’dchosento know. No matter the emotional cost.
And it wasnowthat mattered. Not that night. Not the pain, the blood, the bone-deep fear, or the surgeon’s knife. Now, she was warm and trembling against his side, her breath brushing his chest on the outside of his shirt, her thoughts no longer locked away behind the trauma. Behind the scar tissue.
She remembered him, and she hadn’t run.
He stroked his fingers down the side of her arm, her skin soft through the cotton of her sleeve, her breath slow but shaky against his ribs. Her nerves sparked under his touch. He felt her pulse jump. Heard it.Smelledit.
Her thoughts were an open book to him, as if she handed them to him, rather than him having to peek and look.
Need. Comfort. Skin hunger.
She wanted touch.
Yeah, he could give her that. The beginnings of it, anyway.
He rose to his feet and pulled her with him, hands careful, steady, controlled. She leaned on him more than she realized, her knee fine for the moment, but she’d slipped back into the habit of not putting weight on it. Trust takes time.
He scooped her up, cradled her to his chest, and she didn’t complain this time.
She just relaxed in his arms and trusted him. Breath warm against the crook of his neck. Curled into him.
He laid her across the hotel bed like a treasure finally returned to its place. When she didn’t protest, didn’t tease or joke or shut him out with words, he leaned over and kissed her. Soft. Long. Deep. He took his time, slowly opening her. Claiming her all over again. Her taste hit him like memory and heat and magic. She kissed him back with more than permission — it was invitation, full-throated and hungry.
