One of his daggers was in his hand, but when he spotted me alone—and not being stalked by a mountain lion—he sheathed it.
He reached me in two long strides. His brows were drawn together, forming a small line between them.
“Raewyn?”
Something akin to horror was on his face—at my disgusting human weakness, no doubt. I couldn’t picture Pharis Randalin ever crying.
Shaking my head violently, I waved him away.
There was no way I could create intelligible speech, much less explain, and it was mortifying to have him see me like this. I just wanted him to go away and leave me alone so I could fall apart in private.
But he didn’t leave.
Instead, he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to his body.
For a moment the shock was so great, it stopped my crying. There was a pause, like the silent shoreline drawback just before a tidal wave.
And then it all came crashing in, rushing over me in an inescapable, violent surge. The sobs came out loud and fast, convulsing my body with their force.
Pharis held me close to him, tightening his arms around me like a life-saving tourniquet, palming the back of my head in his large hand and pressing my cheek to his hot chest.
I struggled to move backward—my tears were soaking his shirtfront—but he didn’t seem to notice or care, and I could not stop them.
They kept coming as he stroked my hair and back.
Beneath my ear pressed to his chest, his low voice rumbled with words of comfort, nonsense phrases we both knew weren’t true.
“It’s going to be alright, sweet girl. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. Just let it out, yes, that’s it. You’ve been so strong for so long. It’s okay.”
I was suspended in an odd state between disbelief at his behavior and sheer bliss at the delicious sense of comfort he was providing.
The feel of his big body wrapped around mine, the now-familiar smell of him, the soothing sound of his voice.
This seductive and disorienting sense of pleasure was something brand new in my experience—and it made no sense in light of the terrible turn my life had taken a few minutes ago when my father had asked me to do the unthinkable.
Unable to make myself move and give it up just yet, I allowed my body to stay immersed in the incongruent sensation of well-being for another few minutes while my sobs dissipated and my breathing slowly settled.
Taking one more deep breath, I wiggled my fingertips between our bodies and pressed against Pharis’ chest.
Very slowly, he loosened his hold and allowed me to step back.
His expression was shell-shocked.
I must have looked disastrous. Quickly, I swiped my fingertips under my leaky eyes and pulled a handkerchief from my pocket for my nose.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked. “I… don’t know what happened. I never cry.”
“Please,” he started, then stopped, then started again. “Please don’t apologize. I… do you feel better now?”
His tone was so soft, so sincere. Very un-Pharis-like.
Taking in a deep breath, I did a quick internal inventory and found that yes, I did feel a bit better.
“I think I do,” I said. “I guess it was just all too much, and it just hit me… that I’m about to lose him. And the thought of those little girls…”
Unbelievably, more tears lined up to replace the spent ones. I blinked rapidly to clear them.
Pharis just looked at me, his brow furrowed as he nodded. “I know.”
