Gunnar pulled Bryn into a careful embrace.“Take your time.”
Bryn buried his face in Gunnar’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, absorbing the solid reality of his body.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Gunnar murmured against Bryn’s hair.“When those bastards took you… I haven’t felt that kind of fear since you handed yourself over to a murderer.”
Bryn snorted with laughter.“When I saw you go down in that alley my heart stopped.I kept seeing it…over and over…but I decided you couldn’t be dead.I would have felt it.”
Gunnar’s arms tightened around him.“I’m right here.We both are.”
Taking it one slow step at a time, they made their way to their apartment.
Once inside, with the door locked behind them, they both seemed to deflate.
“Shower or bed?”Gunnar asked.
“Shower, then bed,” Bryn decided.“I smell like a post-hibernation bear.”
“That’s very specific.Shower it is.”
“I need to apologize to Ed Solomon.He had to spend six hours in a car with me.”
“Ed’s a big boy, he can handle it.”
They helped each other undress.There was nothing sexual in the cautious touches, just intimacy and care as they cataloged the physical evidence of what they’d endured.Bryn’s fingers traced the bandage covering Gunnar’s hip, while Gunnar’s eyes lingered on the marks left by the restraints on Bryn’s wrists.
Under the hot spray of the shower, Bryn let the tears come.Silent, cathartic tears that mingled with the water cascading down his face.Gunnar held him through it, saying nothing.
Clean and wrapped in soft towels, they made their way to the bedroom.Gunnar lowered himself onto the bed, grimacing as his injured hip protested the movement.Bryn slid in beside him, careful not to jostle him.
“We should talk about what happened,” Gunnar said, eyelids drooping.
“Tomorrow,” Bryn replied, curling into Gunnar’s side, his head resting on his chest.“Right now, I only need to know you’re here.”
“I’m here,” Gunnar murmured, his arm coming around Bryn’s shoulders.“Not going anywhere.”
“Promise?”
“Wolf’s honor,” Gunnar said, pressing a kiss to the top of Bryn’s head.“Sleep now.”
Bryn surrendered to exhaustion, the steady beat of Gunnar’s heart the most reassuring sound in the world.
Chapter Fifteen
Bryn wasn’t sure of the time when he came around the next day but light seeped around the bedroom blinds.He extricated himself from Gunnar’s embrace then padded to the bathroom.His reflection had improved.Less like death warmed over, more like I’m recovering from a bad dose of flu.Progress.When he pulled it off, the bandage from his lower back where the tracker had been removed was clean, and the abrasions on his wrists had faded to dull red marks.The cut on his arm was healing and the grazes scabbed over.Not so horrific.
When he went back into the bedroom, Gunnar was awake, propped on one elbow.“Morning,” Gunnar said, voice rough with sleep.“How long was I out?”
“What time did we get to bed?It’s eleven in the morning now.”Bryn sat on the edge of the bed.“How’s the hip?”
Gunnar shifted.“No idea and better.Healing fast.”He grimaced.“Head’s still sore.”
“You took a baton to the skull.Evenyourhead needs time to recover from that.”
“Your bedside manner could use some work.”
“I never claimed to be Florence Nightingale.You hungry?I can make us something.”
“You?Cook?”Gunnar pulled a face.“Now I know my head got hit hard.”
