Page 85 of A Sweet Destruction

But I hadn’t fully understood what it would mean for him to know. For how it would make him see me. For some deeply unfair reason, I’d expected scorn. For him to turn his nose up at my dramatics and dismiss my antics as that of an impulsive teenager.

I didn’t expect him to look so…honored.

To react with such tenderness, like I became something precious with the knowledge.

It was that realization that gave me the strength to nod and let him carry me away in his arms.

Chapter 19

Ford

It took everything in me to prevent my hands from shaking so hard I’d drop Esme as I carried her to the back entrance of the inn and up into our room.

She was silent, and so was I. I didn’t even know what to say to her.

I’d known enough to piece the edges of the story together. She’d been the one to save me, that part had never been hidden. When I’d woken up and Peter told me—in incredibly sterile terms—what happened, I’d immediately asked to see her.

Thankfulness had swelled so intensely, it nearly cracked something in my soul open. Now I knew what it had almost revealed.

I would never verbalize it, but I was pretty sure it was the cold, dispassionate demeanor she’d greeted me with, simply saying, “Oh, good. You’re awake,” that had kept the Bond tucked away.

What I didn’t know was the extent of her state of mind during the whole ordeal. It was more than a dutiful rescue of her partner, though that was worthy of praise on its own. In a horribly primal way, I was almost happy to hear that she’d gone nearly insane.

That made it personal. That made it about me. About us.

My hands tightened on her in response, and Esme turned her head a little further into my neck. She was nearly asleep, body spent from the fleeting adrenaline.

But alive, thankfully alive.

The Bond released a low growl at the thought, though it may have just been my own.

I was glad I’d never seen her injuries. I hoped I never laid eyes on a single medical record or photo either. The level of physical exertion she’d pushed herself to…her heart stopping…

It solidified what I’d already known. Losing her was simply not an option.

I could prevent her death—I’d jump in front of any threat to do so—but that wasn’t enough. I needed her alive physically and in spirit.

I couldn’t do anything to change the past, but I could be damn sure that the future went different. And that started, as promised, with showing her that if given the chance, I would take care of her.

I ran up the back stairs of the inn just fast enough to not draw attention but slow enough to make sure Esme wasn’t getting jostled. A miracle, seeing as I almost tripped over my own damn feet when I looked down to make sure she was okay and saw her eyes fluttering shut.

I wanted to feel her eyelashes on my skin, to feel that soft brush against my neck or my chest or—

There was no time for lewd thoughts, especially as I maneuvered the door to our room, shutting us out from the world. Moving to the bed, I bent to set Esme down.

Gravity tripped over itself, my hands releasing from her body several seconds before she actually started to descend onto the mattress. She’d held on of her own accord, and I had to forcefully push away the realization before I ended up on top of her on the bed.

“Stay here for just a second, alright, sweetheart?”

Esme nodded, tucking her hands underneath her thighs. Alright, I had about five seconds to get my shit together before she talked herself out of this.

Moving on autopilot, I headed into the bathroom and kicked on the faucet to the large metal tub, taking a guess on the temperature—somewhere in between pleasantly warm and a numbing heat—and dumping in a handful of bath salts that were lying next to the tub.

“How you doing in there?” I called to Esme, needing a few extra seconds to light some candles with the lighter I kept tucked in my pocket. She liked soft light and the overhead one was too bright.

“Should I be getting undressed?”

God almighty. Shit. Fuck. Be normal and do not smack your face on the bathroom counter.