She nodded slowly, like the answer meant something to her, like maybe she understood scars were just proof you'd survived something.
Her hands had stopped shaking as much. The tremors were still there, but less violent now. She pulled her coat tighter around herself, and I caught a fuller hit of her apple pie scent, sweet and warm, reminding me of slow Sunday mornings as a child when I helped my mom at the café.
My chest tightened. I wanted to move closer, wanted to wrap her in my arms and surround her with my scent until she felt safe again. But that would be too much, too fast, too invasive of the boundaries she was still figuring out how to establish.
So, I stayed where I was, standing guard, letting my presence be enough for now.
“Ready to go back upstairs?” I asked after a few minutes, when her breathing had returned to something closer to normal.
She nodded, pushed herself up from the chair with visible effort. Her left ankle wobbled slightly, and my hand shot out automatically to steady her. This time, I gripped her elbow, firm but gentle, supporting her weight.
The contact sent heat through my palm, a warmth that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the pull I felt toward her. My leather scent intensified, mixing with her sweetness, and I saw her nostrils flare slightly as she registered it.
We moved toward the elevators in silence, my hand still supporting her elbow, her body close enough that I could feel the residual trembling. When the elevator doors opened, I guided her inside and punched the button for the penthouse level.
The elevator started its smooth ascent, and in the enclosed space, her scent was overwhelming. Sweet, warm and Omega, I internally groaned, taking it in.
“Thank you,” she said. “For protecting me.”
I looked down at her, saw the tears that had finally escaped tracking down her cheeks, saw the gratitude and confusion and lingering fear all mixed in her expression.
“Always,” I said, and knew it was a promise I'd keep for as long as she'd let me. “I'll always protect you.”
The words hung between us as the elevator climbed, a vow that felt more significant than the simple statement it appeared to be. And when she leaned slightly into my side, her head barely brushing my shoulder, my heart stuttered with something that felt dangerously close to hope.
Chapter Fourteen
Jasmine
The living area was too bright when I walked in, the winter sun cutting through the floor-to-ceiling windows in sharp white bars that made my eyes ache. Kade stood near the windows with his back to me, hands in his pockets, as Theo and I walked in.
I kept my steps muted, a habit from years of making myself small, but Kade turned before I'd crossed half the room. His eyes found my face, and the businesslike set of his jaw softened; his brow furrowed in a way that made the warmth in my chest flutter uncomfortably.
“No vocal training today,” he said, and his tone had that quality which suggested the decision had already been made, and arguing would be like trying to argue with gravity. “I'm taking you out for the afternoon instead.”
I stopped mid-step and frowned, lips pursed. Out? But outside involved frosted blankets, singing for food, and keeping as small as possible. “Out where?”
“Does it matter?” Theo's voice came from behind. I turned, and he smiled knowingly at me. What were they up to?
Kade shot him a look I couldn't quite read, then turned back to me. “You need a break. You look like you're about to fall over.”
My hand went to my face automatically, fingers touching my cheek as if I could feel what he saw there. My reflection in thewindows showed a pale oval, my green eyes too large, shadows underneath them like bruises. I dropped my hand. “I'm fine.”
“You're not.” Kade moved then, crossing to a closet I hadn't noticed before, built seamlessly into the wall. When he opened it, I saw coats, the kind that probably cost more than I'd made in six months of singing on street corners. He pulled out a thick, deep-charcoal coat and measured it against me.
I just stood there, watching him as he reached for me. The oak scent of him reached me before he did, clean and grounding in a way that made my chest tight.
“Arms up,” he said, and there was something gentle in his voice that made me want to run and stay in equal measure.
I nodded instead, turning slightly so he could reach my old peacoat. His fingers brushed my shoulders as he slid it off, careful not to touch my skin, and the loss of it left me feeling exposed even though I still wore my sweater. He folded the peacoat with a precision that seemed excessive, setting it on the arm of a nearby chair before pulling the new coat around my shoulders.
The weight of it settled on them like an embrace, blanketing me in some kind of wool blend, thick enough to actually keep out the cold, and when I pulled it closed in front, it fit like it had been made for me.
My fingers traced the material, following the line of the lapel down to the buttons. The stitching was so fine I could barely see it. This coat was the kind of thing I used to see in shop windows and never even considered touching.
“Thank you,” I murmured, because my mother had taught me manners even when we'd had nothing, and those lessons had stayed embedded in me like muscle memory.
Kade's hand lifted like he might touch my shoulder, then fell back to his side. “You're welcome.”
