A second man followed, this one with messy red hair and smelling of night phlox. He cradled a familiar bundle of gray fur in his arms, and my eyes widened in concern.
Brumous!
The pup seemed content in his hold, though, which helped my worry for him fade just a bit.
The last to enter was a dark-haired man with eyes so brown, they were nearly black. He carried bottles of water, his gaze locking onto mine with something almost reassuring. I ducked my head to sniff the shirt I wore and realized he was the source of the evening primrose scent.
Even with their comforting scents and the mate bond blooming between us, fear still had me by the throat. A trio of large, intimidating men standing around my bed left me overwhelmed, even if they were my mates.
I had to move, to find something to put between me and them. A door would be good, or at least a wall. Ignoring the jagged pain that clawed at so many different parts of me, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and pushed off.
The moment my feet touched the floor, my body betrayed me. The room tilted violently as my knees buckled. I hit the ground with a hard thud, pain exploding through my leg as my ankle gave out. A broken sound escaped my lips before I could choke it back.
Humiliation burned hotter than the pain, the old helplessness surged up like bile, thick and choking. I was on the floor, crumpled, shaking, weak. Like always. Just like before.
No power, no pride. Just a broken thing waiting to be punished.
My hands clenched and the carpet bit into my knees as I tried and failed to sit up. My breath stuttered, quick and shallow, and the room spun not just from injury, but panic. My vision went grainy around the edges.
I didn’t look at them. Icouldn’t. Not yet. Not when my skin was crawling with learned fear, when every inch of me expected shouting, hitting, cruelty.
Footsteps. A sharp inhale. A muttered curse, anger in the words.
One of them knelt. Close,tooclose. His shadow blocked the light. My muscles tensed, bracing for a blow, but it never came.
Cautiously, I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see the blond at my side, his hands hovering near my shoulders, seeming unsure where to touch. His green eyes narrowed, frustration tightening his jaw.
“That,” he said flatly, “was aterribleidea.”
Behind him, the redhead shifted Brumous in his arms as he stared down at me.
“You’re going to hurt yourself worse, sweetheart,” he said, his voice soft and tinged with concern.
Even Brumous let out a small yip, as if sensing my distress. Or maybe just to agree with his new best friend.
“You’re safe.” The dark-haired man crouched on my other side, his bottomless eyes meeting mine. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
His words were gentle and reassuring while the blond’s irritation was as sharp as a wasp sting. The redhead’s worry, however, was the heaviest, like a thick blanket laying on top of me.
I stayed there, shaking and afraid, as my gaze darted between the three of them, their faces blurring at the edges as my eyes stung. My stepfamily had taken great pleasure in teaching me fear, and now it lived in my bones. Still, I was determined not to let them see me as an easy target and blinked back the tears.
They exchanged looks, something unspoken passing between them, then the blond sighed, his shoulders relaxing a fraction.
“Let’s get you back in bed,” he said, his tone a shade more coaxing. “Let us help you so you don’t collapse again.”
I hesitated, my breath coming in ragged bursts. The dark-haired man held out one hand, his eyes warm and steady.
“You don’t have to trust us,” he murmured. “Just don’t make yourself worse.”
I stared at his hand. To take it would be to surrender, to admit I couldn’t do this on my own, but the pitiful truth was Icouldn’t. My bad arm hurt with each heartbeat, my ankle ached, a dozen scrapes and bruises throbbed, and exhaustion reached for me with relentless fingers.
And then there was the bond, a braided cord around my heart, each strand linking me to them and pulling me closer, encouraging me to trust them, to love them, to protect and care for them.
“Okay,” I whispered at last.
I waited for the cruelty to come, but it didn’t. Just hands, large and rough and calloused, but also steady and warm and far too careful to be threatening. I flinched just a little, but they didn’t pull away. The redhead hovered close with Brumous as the blond supported most of my weight, like he didn’t quite trust the dark-haired one to do it right.
It should have felt suffocating, but somehow, it didn’t. The lovely scents rolling off of them helped; the whole room smelled like a midnight walk though the garden.
