Page 9 of Stolen By the Wraiths
"Alix." Her name sounded different in my voice, a prayer or a warning or a promise.
"I'm tired of being afraid," she whispered, letting her fingers trace the elegant line of my throat. "Tired of always having an exit strategy, of keeping everyone at arm's length because connection might hurt later."
"If we... once we cross this line, there's no going back for either of us."
She smiled—a reckless, terrified smile. "Good. I want to see where this leads if I stop running."
I caught her hand in my larger one, my fingers warm and careful around hers. The simple contact ignited a warmth thatflowed up my arm and settled in my chest, coaxing something tight and guarded to finally unfurl.
"Are you sure? Because once we... there's no undoing this."
She closed the space between us, her knee brushing mine. The careful distance I'd maintained evaporated.
"I've never been certain of anything in my life," she admitted. "But I'm tired of letting fear make my decisions. And you..." She traced another line along my throat, feeling my pulse jump under her fingertip. "You make me want to be brave enough to stay."
The last of my careful control cracked. I turned my hand to thread our fingers together, the simple contact sending warmth cascading through my entire body. When I spoke, my words were imbued with a resonance that seemed to tune her skin to a new frequency, making every nerve ending hum.
"Then we'll take this slowly. At your pace, when you're ready, without pressure or expectations."
"What if I'm ready now?"
My grip on her hand tightened, and my scent deepened with want and careful restraint. "Then we start with this."
I lifted our joined hands to press a soft kiss to her knuckles, the gesture so gentle it made her chest ache with unfamiliar emotion. The warmth of my lips, the careful reverence in the touch—it was the first kiss she'd received that felt like a promise instead of a demand, like worship instead of conquest. I held the moment, just the sound of our breathing in the small, dark room.
When I pulled back, my gaze held hers, a golden intensity that burned away everything but the here and now. "You are worth cherishing, Alix. Worth every fight, every risk, every hope I have left."
She leaned forward until our foreheads touched, breathing in my scent and letting my warmth chase away the last echoes of childhood pain. "Show me what that looks like."
I smiled—the first real smile she'd seen from me, transforming my features from dangerous to devastating. "It would be my honor and my privilege."
My free hand came up to cup her cheek, my thumb tracing across her skin with a reverence that made her heart stutter. "We have time, Alix. All the time you need to learn that this is real."
"Promise me something," she whispered.
"Anything."
"Don't let me run."
My expression darkened with understanding and determination. "Never. When you run, I'll follow. When you hide, I'll find you. When you try to push me away to protect yourself, I'll hold on tighter." My thumb continued its gentle motion across her cheekbone. "You're not alone anymore. But now you need to rest."
I left her then, the scent of her on my skin, the feel of her hand in mine a phantom warmth. I resumed my post in the corridor, the ship's dim lighting casting long shadows down the empty hall. I checked the chronometer on the wall, the glowing numbers nothing like the organic light of my own traceries.
My vigil had changed. It was no longer the duty of a soldier guarding an asset. It was the imperative of a male protecting what was his.
Hours passed. The ship was quiet. I watched the chronometer, tracking the slow march of the cycle, when a spike of terror in her chemical signature shattered the silence. It was sharp, immediate, and devastating. Not the gradual fluctuations of a normal dream, but an intense panic that cut through the ship's recycled air like a scream.
A nightmare. The memory of her pained muttering in the shelter flooded back, but this was a thousand times worse. This was raw, unfiltered trauma.
I should maintain my distance. But the man who had just listened to her story, who had just promised to never let her be alone again, could not stand by while she suffered.
The internal battle lasted exactly three seconds. The promise won.
I was at her door before conscious thought fully engaged, the biometric scanner reading my genetic signature with soft chimes. I was choosing her comfort over professional rules, her needs over my protocols, her peace over appropriate conduct.
I found her thrashing on the narrow bunk, caught in the grip of whatever hell her sleeping mind was reliving. Small, broken sounds of terror escaped her throat, making a protective fury coil hot and tight in my chest.
It had to be the memory she'd shared with me, the abandonment she'd suffered as a child, re-lived with a raw intensity that stole the air from my lungs.
