Page 101 of Bonds of Pain
I’ve finally convinced her to give me a chance. To see me as something other than Logan’s attack dog. The thought of going back to how things were before she arrived—the emptiness, the loneliness—makes my chest constrict painfully.
My heart beats louder in my ears as panic rises. I can’t lose her. Not when I’ve just started to feel something real for the first time in years.
The pounding grows more insistent, and I realize it’s not my heart at all.
“Poe?” Maya’s voice carries through the door, accompanied by another knock. “Are you okay in there?”
I freeze, water cascading down my face. How long have I been in here?
“Fine,” I call back, my voice rougher than intended. “Just finishing up.”
“You’ve been in there for almost an hour,” she says, sounding concerned. “The others are wondering where you are.”
An hour? Shit.
“I’ll be right out,” I manage, reaching for the faucet with trembling hands.
“Poe,” her voice softens. “Did something happen? You seemed...different when you came back.”
My throat tightens. I turn off the water, standing naked and dripping in the sudden silence. What do I tell her? That I let myself be cornered? That I’m not the strong Alpha everyone thinks I am?
“Nothing happened,” I lie, reaching for a towel. “Just needed to clear my head.”
There’s a pause, and for a moment I think she left.
Then, she says with all the authority of someone who sees too much. “I don’t believe you.”
The simple statement hits harder than any accusation could. I wrap the towel around my waist and move to the door, hesitating with my hand on the knob. Opening it means facing her. Facing questions I don’t want to answer.
But hiding in here forever isn’t an option.
I take a deep breath and pull the door open. Maya stands there, purple hair tumbling over her shoulders, eyes widening slightly as they take in my bare chest. But her expression quickly shifts to concern as she studies my face.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she whispers.
“Maybe I have.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
Her gaze sharpens. “What happened after you left the training field? Where did you go?”
I move past her into my bedroom, needing space, needing to breathe. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It clearly does.” She follows, closing the door behind her. “You’re not acting like yourself.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “And who is that, exactly? The ruthless enforcer? Logan’s loyal dog?”
“No,” she says simply. “You’re the man who carries me to bed but doesn’t take advantage. The one who taught me to defend myself. The one who looks at me and actually sees me.”
Her words slice through my defenses. I turn away, unable to face the sincerity in her eyes.
“Maya, please,” I whisper. “Just let it go.”
“I can’t.” She steps closer. “Not when you’re obviously hurting.”
The gentleness in her voice nearly breaks me. How can I tell her? How can I admit my weakness?
“If I tell you,” I say hoarsely, “you’ll never look at me the same way again.”
“Try me,” she challenges.
