Ezra hums in frustration, his thumb catching a tear as he wipes it away.
“Come back to me, little lupine. You’re safe. I see you. And to be perfectly honest …”
He breathes out. His voice is calm, but I can feel the maelstrom underneath it.
“I want you now more than ever. I want to bring you the pleasure that monster stole from you. I want to restore your peace. I want to be your shelter.”
His thumbs brush my cheeks, soft and cool against my fiery, flushed skin.
“There’s plenty of time to explore each other, Aurora. But tonight, you must rest.”
He’s right, of course. I’m probably more fucked up than I want to admit. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.
My weight shifts off his lap, shame curling in my stomach. Ezra’s shadows cling as I pull away, resisting for a heartbeat too long before snapping back to him, frustrated but obedient.
He doesn’t want me.
No, that’s not it.
But some ugly, broken part of me still whispers the lie.
I try to move away from him, but Ezra pulls me back against his side and wraps his arms around me. He gently places an ice pack on my throbbing neck, and I sigh with relief.
Fuck, that feels good.
I wrap an arm around his waist and hook my leg around his.
I’m afraid that if I let go, I’ll disappear into that nightmare again.
But he keeps me here—his warmth, his breath, the weight of his arms, the press of his promise.
Every inch of him tells me:You’re safe now.
I don’t fight sleep this time. I let it take me, safe in the shelter of his arms, while something unseen keeps watch.
In the dark, his shadows curl close, drawn to the broken pieces I’m barely holding together.
I shouldn’t feel safe in the arms of something ancient and wrong.
But I do.
Because it’s him.
And whatever lives inside him is watching over me too.
Aurora
Hands haunt my dreams. They strangle. They grope. They fuck. I wake up drenched in sweat. An unbearable itch spreads through me, like thousands of tiny bugs beneath my skin.
Ezra is wrapped around me, heat and quiet force sinking into my skin, a haven wrapped in muscle and stillness, holding back everything that’s trying to break me.
My body still aches, and my neck pulses with my heartbeat, but when I turn my head, the pain is … manageable.
Strange. I was expecting worse.
I press closer to Ezra, but Jameson’s hands creep back into my mind.
The slimy, revolting sensation starts in my gut and spreads through my body like a plague. I feel absolutely fucking disgusting. I need it gone. The filth he smeared across me. The echo of his hands. The stain I can’t wash away.
