Page 8 of UnTrained: Volume Two
I find myself matching my breathing to his without even thinking about it. In, out. In, out. The simple rhythm calms something inside me that's been jagged and broken for too long.
"You're safe now," Aiden whispers, his breath warm against my hair.
I want to believe him. Part of me does believe him, the part that's slowly uncurling from its protective shell under his gentle touch. The other part—the part that learned to survive by never trusting, never hoping—remains vigilant, waiting for the moment this all falls apart.
But for now, in this moment, I let myself sink against him, absorbing his warmth, his strength. My eyes grow heavy, the emotional exhaustion of the day catching up with me all at once.
"You're tired," he says, not a question but an observation. His hand strokes down my back in long, soothing motions. "It's been a long day."
I nod against his chest, unwilling to move from this position of comfort. "Yes, Sir."
"Time for bed," he says, his voice gentle but firm. "I want you to get a full night's sleep. Tomorrow will be another day of healing."
I feel a flutter of panic at the thought of him leaving. The idea of being alone in my apartment again, with only my thoughts and memories for company, makes my chest tighten.
"Will you..." I start, then falter, uncertain how to ask for what I need.
"Say it, Lana," Aiden commands softly. "Ask for what you need."
I swallow hard, gathering my courage. "Will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?" The request feels childish, but the thought of facing the darkness alone tonight is overwhelming.
Aiden's expression softens. "Yes. I'll stay."
Relief washes through me, loosening the knot of anxiety in my chest. I allow him to help me to my feet, his hand steady at my elbow.
"Show me to your bedroom," he says.
I lead him down the short hallway to my bedroom. The space feels both familiar and strange—the same furniture I picked out years ago, the same bedding, but now it all feels like it belongs to someone else. I've changed too much for the familiar things to still fit.
Mochi darts out from under the bed as we enter, eyeing Aiden suspiciously before disappearing into the hallway.
"He'll come around," Aiden says, noticing my gaze following the cat. "Animals sense fear. Once you're more settled, he'll remember who you are."
I nod, hoping he's right. Mochi's rejection feels like one more confirmation that I don't belong here anymore, that I've changed too fundamentally to reclaim my old life.
I pull back the covers and slide into bed, the sheets cool against my skin. Aiden sits on the edge of the mattress, his weight creating a dip that makes me roll slightly toward him.
"Close your eyes," he says, his voice that perfect blend of gentle and commanding that makes something inside me unwind.
I obey, letting my eyelids fall shut. The darkness behind them feels safe rather than threatening with Aiden beside me.
"I want you to focus on your breathing," he continues, his hand coming to rest lightly on my shoulder. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."
I follow his guidance, drawing air deeply into my lungs and releasing it slowly. The rhythm becomes meditative, washing away some of the day's tension. Aiden's hand on my shoulder is an anchor, keeping me tethered to this moment instead of drifting back into memories.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. "With each breath, you're letting go of what you don't need to carry."
I feel myself sinking deeper into the mattress, my body growing heavier as relaxation spreads through my limbs. The weight of Aiden's hand is comforting rather than restraining, a gentle reminder that I'm not alone.
"Tomorrow," he says softly, "we'll continue. Small steps, one after another. But for tonight, all you need to do is rest."
"Thank you, Sir," I whisper, the words slipping out naturally.
His thumb traces a small circle on my shoulder. "Sleep now, Lana."
I let myself drift toward sleep, aware of his presence beside me. For the first time since my return, the darkness doesn't feel threatening. The shadows don't hide monsters waiting to drag me back.
8
