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"Come in," Dr. Morgan's deep voice calls from inside.
I push open the door, stumbling into the room. The familiar scent of old books and pine envelops me, but it does little to calm my frayed nerves.
Dr. Morgan is already standing, his brow furrowing as he takes in my appearance. "Sarah? What's wrong?"
The concern in his voice undoes me. The tears I've been holding back spill over, and a sob escapes my lips. "He's here," I choke out. "Mark is here."
Chapter 5
Lucas
The sharp scent of distress hits me before I even hear the frantic knocking at my office door. My wolf stirs, instantly alert.
I know that scent.
Sarah.
"Come in," I call out, rising from my chair, my body tense with anticipation and concern.
The door flies open, and Sarah bursts in, her blue eyes wide with fear, her curly blonde hair disheveled. She's breathing heavily, her chest heaving as if she's just run a marathon. The sight of her in such distress makes my wolf growl, urging me to protect, to comfort.
"Sarah," I say, my voice low and soothing. "What's wrong?"
She doesn't answer immediately, just stands there, trembling. I can smell the salt of unshed tears, the acrid tang of fear clinging to her skin. It takes every ounce of self-control not to rush to her, to wrap her in my arms and shield her from whatever has frightened her so badly.
"I... I saw him," she finally chokes out, her voice barely above a whisper. "My ex. He's here, at the university."
Her abusive ex-boyfriend. The wolf shifter who hurt her, who made her fear our kind. My hands clench into fists at my sides.
"It's okay," I murmur, trying to keep my voice low and soothing.
"I... I'm sorry," she chokes out, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I didn't know where else to go."
Sarah's body shakes with silent sobs, her tears flowing freely now. The sight of her in such pain is more than I can bear. My wolf howls inside me, demanding action, insisting that I comfort our mate.
Before I can second-guess myself, I'm moving. In two quick strides, I'm at her side. Without a word, I scoop her up into my arms. She lets out a small gasp of surprise, but doesn't resist as I carry her to the leather sofa in the corner of my office.
I sit down, cradling her in my lap. She feels so small, so fragile in my arms, yet I know the strength that lies within her. Sarah buries her face in my chest, her tears dampening my shirt. I don't care. All that matters is that she's here, that she's safe.
"It's okay," I murmur, one hand stroking her back while the other cradles her head. "Let it out. I've got you."
My wolf, usually so restless and demanding, settles into a contented purr. This feels right. This is where she belongs, safe in our arms.
Sarah's sobs gradually subside into quiet hiccups and sniffles. I continue to hold her, my hand moving in soothing circles on her back.
She lets out a shuddering breath, leaning into my touch ever so slightly. "I thought I was over this," she whispers. "I thought I was stronger now."
"You are strong," I insist, my voice low and intense. "Strength isn't about never being afraid. It's about facing those fears, about surviving. And you, Sarah Mitchell, are a survivor."
She looks up at me then, her blue eyes swimming with tears but also with something else. Gratitude? Trust? Whatever it is, it makes my heart race.
"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to fall apart like that."
"Don't apologize," I say firmly, but gently. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
She shifts slightly in my lap, and I have to stifle a groan. Having her this close, feeling the warmth of her body against mine, is both heaven and torture. I want nothing more than to tilt her chin up and claim her lips with mine. But I can't. She needs comfort and safety right now, not my selfish desires.
"Thank you," Sarah says softly. Her eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from crying, but still so beautiful. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here."
