He drops his weight, so all I can feel is him, and I lose it completely.
My legs give out. His strength holds me up.
My lungs stop working. He blows his scent in my face so it’s all I breathe.
My eyes squeeze shut, but I don’t need to see him to know he is next to me.
I scream so loud my throat hurts.
But at long, long last I finally tell someone.
“He raped me.”
Chapter
Twenty-Four
SIMONA
Three words but by god they have been so heavy to carry by myself. Too heavy. Once my terrible secret passes my lips there’s an increasing pressure in my chest. It hurts so much it feels I might break.
At the precipice though, when I think I will crack under the pressure, come softly spoken words, reinforced by arms that band around me, shaking as much as I do. “I got you.”
A sob breaks from deep inside my soul.
One sob turns into a river of ugly tears and howling pain. I don’t do anything to stop the tears or hide how sad I am, but he doesn’t try to stop them either.
I push my back against his chest, fighting the onslaught that rips free. And all he does is hold me to him while his scent rains down.
I spend a lot of time crying and explaining. Releasing myself from the shackles that have bound and sharing maybe more than I should but the words that keep spilling. The tears that won’t stop.
Time becomes irrelevant and I only measure it by whereDominic sits. He sits because I stay tucked in his arms. We travel across his office, chasing patches of sunlight, but he won’t let me go for a minute. Not that I want to leave the haven he provides.
I tell him everything about my family, how we found out I was bark sensitive, about growing up in the founding family world, about Brody hating me since before I could talk to discovering he would be my Alpha and the heartbreak of what he did in a fit of misplaced rage. I go through in awful detail the things Brody has done since—no matter how big or small it seemed. I talk about how thrilled I was to attend Unity, how distressed it makes me feel having to keep things from my Scorned Girls, before I explain how on top of everything else, I am so riddled with guilt about being as deceitful as I have been. Especially anything to do with Lawson.
Dominic doesn’t interrupt, or add anything, he just holds me tight and listens. There comes a point, hours later, where my words come to an end, and the pain of remembering everything numbs enough for me to just sit in stillness. Time stretches, and I follow his deep, steady breathing until he finally speaks.
“Rest now.” His voice is firm but tender. He wraps me in a smaller ball on his lap, tucking his jacket around me tighter before both his arms wrap around and hold me.
My eyes close. I switch off and pass out.
I drift from sleep to wakefulness, but I linger in the quiet, not yet ready to open my eyes. An arm curls around me, and somehow, the soft plume of paper and ink scent finds me, even though I’m still cocooned.
I’ve never fallen asleep in someone’s arms, so I’ve never experienced the immovable sense of stability before. It’s peaceful. Shifting in his arms so my nose is pressed against his shirt I stay hovering in light doziness breathing Dominic’s scent—which has been with me for what feels like forever.
There’s movement to the stillness though, and when I peek out, aside from a small lamp on his desk, darkness is everywhere else. He’s working. I realise that’s what I could feel.
When I sit up, he doesn’t jump into asking me how I feel. Instead, he pulls a tray full of snacks and drinks for me to reach. My tummy rumbles appreciatively but my bladder presses urgently.
“Bathroom?”
He swivels his chair, and a small light guides my path. I’m stiff as I make my way, and by the time I’ve returned, I’ve got a pounding headache and a tiredness that is bone deep.
“In you go,” he says without looking at me.
And I don’t really realise what is the ‘in’ he’s referring to until he points to his desk. Well, under his desk. He picks up his phone and flicks the torch on, keeping it away from me but showing me what he has done. A huge duvet almost completely hides a mattress made of pillows. To the side of his desk there’s another pile of smaller throw rugs.
He has made me a nest, a place to recover, and find some of what I lost.
