Page 28 of Awakened By the Guardian

Her glare was pure annoyance, and she threw up her hands in frustration. “Nothing happened. I was born this way.”

He waited, watching her closely. She said nothing. Pain seemed to radiate out of her so raw that it hurt to see. So he tugged her close, needing to reassure her. Physical comfort had always been okay between them.

She came willingly, and he inhaled her scent deep into his lungs. Since shifting he could scent things better, feel his body more keenly, and he was more aware of the divide between thinking man and feeling animal. Right now, however, that divide was very thin.

“I’m so afraid,” she whispered against his cheek. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he promised.

“You can’t promise that. You don’t know what’s going to happen.” She started to pull away but he held her tighter. In the end, she dropped to her knees beside him and he cradled her head against his shoulder.

“I know it’ll mean we’re over,” she said, almost too quiet for him to hear. “But I want to see you happy with a woman who loves you like you deserve. You’re perfect the way you are. I don’t want you taking insane risks and dying because of them.”

He frowned and pulled back. “We’re not done,” he said firmly. “We’ll never be done until you say we are—and mean it.”

She could barely look at him. “You’re not going to find another woman with me next door. Which means I have to go. I knew this was coming. I knew it, but I wanted a few more days. I wanted my birthday with you. I wanted⁠—”

“And I’m not going anywhere!”

She didn’t answer, just stared at him as if memorizing his features.

“Margaret, listen to me. I’ll be careful. I’ll rest. I’ll do whatever you want. Just promise you won’t go.”

She nodded, but he could tell she didn’t mean it. In her mind she was too broken to be worthwhile. They were over because she couldn’t give him what he wanted. Which was bullshit.

“Margaret,” he whispered against her forehead. “I need you. I love you.”

She didn’t answer. A moment later, he realized she was crying silent tears. He only knew because his shirt was wet. Then the emotions became too much, she began to gasp and her shoulders shook.

He would have promised anything then. He wanted to tell her he wouldn’t use the serum and that he was happy being just friends with her—but that would be a lie. He wanted his legs back, and he wanted a romantic relationship with her. Sex would be great, too, if they could find a way for her to enjoy it. But neither of them could pretend to be something they weren’t.

Silent, he held her. When she finally quieted enough to breathe, he lifted her face to his.

“Gary—,” she began.

He kissed her. He put his mouth on hers and tasted the wet of her tears. He felt the catch of her breath and the shocked widening of her mouth. He wanted to plunge deeper, wanted to take what he’d been dreaming about since the day they first met, but he didn’t. He pulled back and looked into her eyes.

“Do you feel anything, Margaret? When I kiss you, do you feel anything?”

She sighed, her expression miserable. “Of course I feel something. I love you. I want you to be happy.”

“But what about you? What do you want for you?”

She looked at the ceiling, her expression one of total defeat. “You mean, am I aroused? Are my nipples tight and my toes curling in my shoes? Is everything wet and needy for you?” She shook her head. “No, Gary. I’m broken. You need to accept that.”

“Never. No matter what, I’ll never believe that you’re anything but perfect.”

She exhaled a long sigh, and he was pleased that he didn’t hear any wheezing. He’d been worried about her asthma. Then he touched her face, a slow caress. “Forget the kiss,” he whispered. “Just feel my love.”

He stroked his fingers along her cheek and behind her ear, and when she didn’t say anything more, he eased the tips down her neck.

She tilted her head as if she liked it.

“Margaret?”

“I…I don’t know,” she whispered, and he heard confusion in her voice. And fear.

“You don’t know if this feels good?”