Page 8 of A Promise of Forever
I sigh, running a hand down my face. This is so far outside my area of expertise that I might as well be performing surgery. I make a move to step back just as he leans forward, chasing my touch.Fuck.Quickly, I return to where I was and let him lean onme again, realizing that I might be the only one to help him right now.
"Everyone out," I order the hovering staff members. They disappear immediately, closing the door behind them. I crouch down in front of Sterling, trying to make eye contact with those glazed eyes. "I don't know what you're okay with, Sterling. I've never had an Omega, never thought I'd have one either, so you're going to have to tell me when to stop, when it's too much. But I can't leave you like this."
Sterling nods slowly, the movement barely perceptible, but it's something.
"I need your words," I continue, trying to soften my voice. "Something that tells me to back the fuck off. Red, okay? Say red if it's too much, and I'll stop immediately."
"Red," he whispers, his voice barely audible but clear enough that I know he understands. He wrings his hands together in his lap, my coat still hanging off his shoulders as he runs the word over his tongue a few more times.
"Good boy," I murmur, something in his expression shifting slightly, like the praise reaches him even through the shock. I wait a few moments before I start to move, helping him out of my jacket and then the suit that seems like it was borrowed. It’s a few sizes too big, the shirt easily coming up over his head without having to be unbuttoned, revealing the full extent of the damage underneath.
My jaw clenches as more bruises come into view. Finger-shaped marks around his wrists, what looks like belt marks across his back, bite wounds on his shoulders and neck, too shallow for bond marks that make me want to hunt Wilson down and tear his throat out with my bare hands.
But I keep my rage locked down, focused entirely on Sterling's needs. He's trembling as I work, the Omega wrapping his arms around his chest protectively, but he doesn't say the safe word.He just watches me, almost as if he’s waiting for me to go too far before he says anything. I hate that for him. I hate that someone broke him like that and I wonder if it was just Wilson or if there were more people involved in trying to rip this beautiful man apart.
When he's finally undressed, I lift him and carry him to the tub. The water is the perfect temperature, Sterling sinking into it with a sigh that might be relief. His lids flutter close as he grips the edge of the tub, his entire body tensing and then relaxing as the bath salts begin to ease the stress of his overworked self.
I perch my ass on the edge of the tub, ignoring the water that seeps into my dress pants, needing to be close enough to the Omega who’s stolen all of my attention. The sight of his injuries is even worse in the bathroom lighting, a roadmap of cruelty that has me plotting Wilson’s demise. A few rounds in the ring aren’t going to cut it. He will die a gruesome, public death. I will make sure of it.
"Did Wilson do this to you?" I ask, though I'm afraid I already know the answer.
Sterling shakes his head slowly, his voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. "Not all of it."
I swallow the snarl fighting to get out. Wilson wasn't the first to hurt him, just the most recent. How many people have left their marks on this beautiful, broken Omega? How many times has he been failed by the very people who should have protected him?
"I'll be okay," Sterling whispers. He blinks a few times, his vision refocusing before falling on me. "You're going to get your suit wet. You don’t have to stay. I can do this. I’m going to do this." His last words die out, strangled with pain, a whine following as a tear runs down his cheek. Here he is, barely conscious and covered in injuries, and he's worried about my clothes getting damaged.
I can only imagine what was required of him before he got to the gala this evening.
"You look like you're going to pass out," I tell him. "I'll stay until you're ready to go to bed."
And I will. However long it takes, whatever he needs, I'll be here. The realization should terrify me, this complete upheaval of everything I thought I wanted from life. But instead, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Sterling is mine now, and I protect what's mine.
Sterling
I sink deeper into the water as Forrest takes over, the Valla reaching across the bath to grab the cloth and one of the bottles of soap. My brows raise in surprise that it’s descented, such a simple gesture for an Omega and I wonder how much thought he put into bringing me home. Or maybe he just told his staff to do it. I don’t know.
Either way, I like it.
I really like it.
Especially when he drags one of those deliciously enormous hands across my shoulders, soap dripping down my chest withthe motion. His hands are easily twice the size of mine, but still elegant and they move with a surprising gentleness that I was sure would be foreign to a Valla. The hot water stings my cuts and bruises, making me hiss through my teeth, but somehow the pain feels cleansing rather than punishing. Like it's washing away more than just dirt and blood.
His purr fills the entire bathroom, a low rumble that seems to vibrate through the water and into my bones. I've never heard anything like it before him. None of my exes ever purred. They never made any sound that suggested contentment or care. But Forrest’s sound wraps around me like a security blanket as I sink further into it, letting myself believe that I’m safe here.
This feeling of safety is dangerous, I know that. It won't last. It's just for right now, maybe just for tonight, until Forrest figures out what kind of Omega he actually agreed to protect. Once he sees how broken I am, how much trouble I bring, he'll change his mind. Wilson won’t stop trying to come for me and soon, Forrest will give up and hand me over.
Until then, though, in this moment, I let myself pretend that someone actually wants to take care of me.
Forrest moves the washcloth slowly across my skin, careful to avoid the worst of my injuries. When was the last time someone touched me without wanting to hurt me? When was the last time anyone looked at my body and saw something worth protecting rather than something to damage?
His hand moves lower, the washcloth trailing down toward my ribs, and suddenly the gentle touch feels too much. Panic floods my system, a cry tearing from my throat as I jerk away from him so violently that water sloshes over the edge of the tub.
"Red!" The safe word tears from my throat, a desperate whine slipping through my lips immediately after. "Red, red!" Images of Wilson’s belt and his hands flash through my mind as I fail to push them back down, my breathing coming out in pants.My fingers find the edge of the tub to keep from falling into the water, tears streaming down my cheeks as I wait for the inevitable words to come.
You’re worthless.
