Her eyes prickled without warning.She squeezed them shut, annoyed at herself.
“Cher,” he murmured, voice a gravel-soft rumble.“You’re safe.”
“I’m not scared,” she whispered into his shirt.
He huffed a quiet breath against her hair.“You are, and it’s okay.”
She swallowed.Her fingers tightened in the fabric at his pecs, afraid he might drift away if she didn’t hold on.“I don’t want to be.”
“Doesn’t matter what you want,” he said mildly, brushing a thumb along her shoulder in lazy, comforting strokes.“Fear doesn’t listen worth a damn.You’re allowed to feel it.Doesn’t make you weak.”
The words sank deep.Deeper than she’d expected or was prepared for.
“I just don’t want you to think I’m using this as an excuse to ...”She gestured vaguely, mortified.“You know.”
His chest shook with a quiet laugh rumbling through her cheek.“Cher, if I thought this was an invitation, you’d already be naked and needy.”
She snorted before she could stop herself, the sound muffled against him.“You’re terrible.”
“Mm-hmm,” he agreed.“And you’re exhausted.”
She was.Bone-deep.Shaken and frayed and stuck in that awful after-space where the adrenaline had burned off and left nothing behind but tremors and truth.
Kayne’s hand continued its slow, steady circles against her back.“Go on,” he murmured.“Sleep.I got you.”
Her voice came out smaller than she liked.“Don’t let go.”
He tightened his arm around her, just a fraction.“Ain’t goin’ anywhere.”
She breathed him in.Cedar, warm cotton, and something unmistakably Kayne.Her eyelids grew heavy within minutes.She felt safe.The realization alone was enough to undo her.
Right before sleep claimed her, she whispered, barely there, “Thank you.”
Kayne pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.“Anytime,cher.”
She slept in his arms while he stayed wide awake.She knew he had eyes on the shadows and was committed to fighting the world if it so much as considered touching her again.
