Page 23 of Knot Their Safe Haven
I selected a soft cotton one, nothing like the silk she preferred, but less likely to aggravate her sensitive skin.
Getting her changed required lifting her, and I marveled at how deeply the pills had pulled her under. She was completely limp in my arms, her head lolling against my shoulder as I maneuvered her out of the soaked silk. Even unconscious, she was beautiful—all soft curves and elegant lines, her body a work of art I had no right to appreciate.
I dressed her quickly, trying not to let my hands linger on her skin. Once she was decent, I carried her to the rocking chair in the corner—the one she'd bought years ago when she'd briefly entertained the idea of having another child.
She thought we didn't know about her and Knox, but it was something we decided to keep amongst ourselves, like any member of a pack that carried secrets.
The fact that it remained here, unused but not discarded, said everything about the dreams she wouldn't voice aloud...
The sheets were a disaster, soaked with sweat and slick, and the evidence of our unexpected coupling. I stripped them with practiced movements, bundling them into the hamper.
The fresh sheets I pulled from her linen closet smelled of lavender—her favorite—and I took extra care to make the bed properly, hospital corners and all.
When everything was clean and arranged, I lifted her from the chair and tucked her back into bed. She curled immediately onto her side, pulling a pillow against her chest in a gesture so vulnerable it made my chest ache. I smoothed her purple-streaked hair back from her face, noting the silver threads that caught the moonlight.
Nearly forty, and still the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
"I'm such a coward," I confessed to her sleeping form. "We all are. Knox with his fear of ruining what we have. Adyani with her need to be perfect before she'll claim you. And me... I hide behind professionalism and ethics while you suffer alone."
I pressed a kiss to her temple, breathing in her scent one last time. Even now, sated and sleeping, she smelled like black orchids and need.
"One day," I promised, though I knew I was lying to both of us. "One day, we'll be brave enough to give you what you deserve. A proper pack. A proper claim. The kind of love that doesn't hide in shadows."
But not tonight...
Tonight, I would slink away like the coward I was, leaving her to wake alone and wondering. She'd know I'd been here—she always does and simply doesn't acknowledge it—but we'd never speak of it.
We'd continue our careful dance of proximity without connection, desire without fulfillment.
I paused at her bedroom door, looking back at her sleeping form one last time. In the moonlight, she looked peaceful, but I knew better. I knew the storms that raged beneath that calm surface, the hunger that gnawed at her bones.
"Sleep well, my love," I whispered, then forced myself to leave before I did something even more unforgivable.
The walk back to my office felt like a march to the gallows.
Every step reminded me of what I'd done, what I'd taken, what I continued to deny us both. The monitors still showed her room, her still form centered in the frame. I should delete the footage, destroy the evidence of my transgression.
Instead, I saved it to my private files, another secret to add to the collection.
Another reminder of what we could have if any of us were brave enough to reach for it.
I poured myself three fingers of whiskey—the good stuff, the bottle Velvet had given me for my last birthday—and settled back into my chair. The burn of alcohol did nothing to ease the ache in my chest or the shame that curdled in my gut.
Somewhere across the city, Knox was probably lying awake, fighting the same urges I'd surrendered to. Somewhere across the ocean, Adyani was planning her return, her transformation, her grand gesture that would probably come too late.
And here I sat, the physician who'd sworn to do no harm, having just violated the woman I loved in the most intimate way possible.
"An Alpha Doctor who swore to make her proud..." I muttered, the title tasting like ash. "What a fucking joke."
But even as I sat there in my guilt and self-loathing, I couldn't stop myself from pulling up the footage again.
Watching her sleep, peaceful now in clean sheets and soft cotton.
Wouldn't stop myself from wanting, needing, and loving her with an intensity that bordered on obsession.
Cause this is what it was, when you thought about it. A sick obsession that I knew I'd never find a cure for because I was too far gone. Years deep into this same repetition.
This was our pattern, our curse.
