Free Web NovelChapter 11: 011
~ RONAN ~
It’s ridiculous, I know. Almost laughable that, as an Alpha, I’m standing outside someone’s window, staring and stalking like some fucking obsessive bastard out of a dark romance book.
It’s creepy. I know that too. I could walk through her door like a normal person, but under the circumstances, I can’t.
She’s curled up to her side, facing away from the window, one hand tucked under her cheek. The IV line has been removed, Elias must have sent someone to disconnect it after I left. The blanket is pulled up to her shoulder, and her breathing is slow and even.
She looks pretty asleep. So fucking pretty I think it should be illegal, and it is illegal, knowing that if she catches me staring she’s going to take me for some sort of creep. But I’ve never seen anyone so fucking pretty in my life.
I bob my throat, swallowing hard.
I’m still watching, inwardly battling between leaving and staying exactly where I am. She’s fine. She’s asleep. I should leave.
One second I’m about to leave, the next, she winces.
Just a small tightening, her face scrunching, fingers curling around the pillow like she’s trying to anchor herself to something solid. Then a soft broken gasp escapes her lips and her whole body follows, shoulders drawing inward, legs shifting restlessly under the blanket.
Kael snaps to full alert. Nightmare? Is she having a nightmare?
Her body starts moving before I can think, thrashing, silently fighting against something only she can see, her hands clutching and releasing the pillow, her face scrunched tight with whatever is playing behind her eyes.
The silence of it is somehow worse than if she’d screamed.
I’m through the window before I finish the thought.
Three steps across the room, and I’m at the bed. Consequences be damned; she can be frightened of me later, she can be angry later. Right now, her body is shaking, and she is completely alone in it, and I am not standing at a window watching that happen.
I sit at the edge of the bed and gather her in my arms carefully, mindful of the injuries, pulling her against my chest gently.
"Hey." My voice comes in a whisper. "You’re alright, you’re safe, nothing is going to happen to you. You hear me? Nothing."
She fights it for another moment, her hands pushing weakly at the air, a small broken sound escaping her throat that tightens something behind my sternum so hard I lose breath.
Then her eyes fly open, and she goes completely still.
Those hazel eyes blink once, twice, adjusting, finding my face in the dark, then scanning the room behind me like she’s checking whether the nightmare followed her out. Her breathing is ragged, her whole body trembling finely against mine, but the fighting stops the moment she registers where she is.
I watch her put it together piece by piece.
Then she pulls back slightly, hands coming up immediately, apologizing. Signing sorry, sorry, sorry before she’s even fully caught her breath, fingers stumbling over each other in her urgency to get it out. Sorry for disturbing me, sorry for making noise, sorry for whatever she thinks she did wrong by having a nightmare in her own bed.
Anger floods through me. How many times has she been punished for things that weren’t her fault? How many times has she woken up already apologizing before she even knew what she’d done? Because of this, with the speed of it and the practiced urgency of those sorry sorry sorry hands, it’s enough proof that this isn’t a one-time thing. This is a reflex so deeply ingrained in her that it fires before she’s even conscious.
I reach out and gently still her hands, covering them with mine to stop the movement.
"Stop," I say quietly. "Stop apologizing."
She stares at me.
"You didn’t do anything wrong." I hold her gaze so she knows I mean it and not just as something people say. "You had a nightmare. That’s it. You have nothing to apologize for." freeωebnovēl.c૦m
Her lips press together. She drops her eyes to her hands, still covered by mine, and I can see her processing it, running it through whatever internal system she’s built over years of deciding which reactions are safe and which ones aren’t.
I give her a moment, then I ask, keeping my voice even, "Can you sleep alone, or do you want me to stay?"
Her eyes come back up to mine, in that same calculating manner again, and slowly, her hands lift from under mine.
"You don’t have to stay," she signs. "I’m fine."
"Fine? She’s not fine. She just had a nightmare, and it’s fucking killing me that she keeps pushing me away."
"I need you to be honest with me, and sincere with yourself, Rose. I’m not going to hurt you. I never will. I can swear an oath if that’s what you want."
Her hands still, and then she signs... "Yes... and no at the same time..."
"She’s scared and confused by us at the same time," Kael mutters in my head.
It makes sense. She’s heard the stories, everyone has. The Alpha of Death. The man whose brides don’t survive. Whatever version of me reaches Westbrook is enough to wire her system into permanent alert around me, and I can’t exactly blame her for that.
I lean forward in the chair, resting my elbows on my knees so I’m not looming over her.
"Don’t be scared of me, Rose."
It’s the first time I shorten her name. It comes out before I can think about it, and I don’t take it back.
"Whatever stories you’ve heard about me, trash them." I hold her gaze steadily, making sure she’s reading me clearly. "You’re going to be my family, and I need you to understand what that means, I’m not imposing that on you. If you don’t want it, you tell me, and I’ll respect it. But whether you choose that or not, it changes nothing about this." I hold her gaze. "I will always protect you. I will always stand by your side. That’s not conditional on anything you do or don’t give me."
She stares at me.
"So stop being scared of me,"
She signs her agreement for me to sleep in her room, and something in my chest settles instantly.
"Okay," I say simply.
I pull the chair from the corner of the room, drag it to the side of the bed, and lower myself into it. Those hazel eyes trail after me as I move.
"Sleep," I tell her.
She holds my gaze for another moment. Then slowly, carefully, she lowers herself back against the pillow.
It takes less than ten minutes before her breathing evens out again.
