Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Kyle

I owed my mother a big apology.

It was damn lucky I brought this book with me, because right now, it was used as a buffer between Imogen's eyes and my dick.

Touching her was like sticking a finger on a live wire, electrical impulses coursing through me, but they didn't make me twitch. Just ache for her. Stroking my fingers through the strands of her hair, ostensibly to find the knot of her sling, then sliding them over the exposed skin of her neck… I wanted to take my time. To map the slope of her neck, learn every curve, every hollow, but instead, I worked the knot free. My hand went to her injured arm, holding it against her chest when I wanted to do so much more.

She wouldn't need to do anything, an alien voice whispered in my ear. I'd look after her, wash her, dry her, and then get her wet all over again. Something made me think Imogen might like that, the sweet scent of her perfume filling my nose. But I couldn't. Ursula had had a sharp conversation with us the minute she left our mate with Asher.

"She's vulnerable right now."

"I know that." I was pacing back and forth, my brain racing.

"No, you don't." That stopped my feet. I turned around slowly to see Lucas was staring at Ursula as well. "You think you do." I knew that stance, the way her arms crossed. It was the same look she gave us when she was about to square off on the sparring floor. "But you don't. Being here, watching so many women come through those doors in various states of pain, tells you what to look for, but…" I watched her blink, then swallow, the confident—no, cocky—woman I'd known since high school disappearing momentarily. "That's not the same as feeling it. You need to be careful."

"Because Imogen is vulnerable right now and making a move would be a betrayal," I replied, remembering our training.

"Because your mate has had her whole world turned upside down. Abuse has you loving, defending, protecting the one person who's hurting you. They get you in here." Ursula tapped her temple way too hard. "So that even when you're not around them, you're still feeling the impact of what they did. It skews your perspectives, has you pushing the right people away and running towards the wrong ones." Her hands formed fists. "Don't be the wrong ones. Don't replicate the same boundary-obliterating, crazy-making bullshit she's gone through, because…"

She sucked in a breath and instinctively I took a step towards her, wanting to give her a hug. Ursula held me off with an outstretched hand.

"She's going to want you to. Being an abuse survivor sometimes means you can't trust a single one of your instincts because they have been corrupted by the person that fucked with you."

That's why I was sitting here and waiting. It's why each time my eyes strayed towards the bathroom door, I jerked them right back. My foot twitched as it rested on my other knee, the foot on the ground tapping furiously. Because each time I looked around me, the room faded away and I saw her.

Imogen was attracted to me. That made the bear roar in triumph, right as I freaked the fuck out. Staring into my eyes was one thing, but when they dropped down and spent way too long inspecting my lips, I had to fight the urge to press mine to hers. Kissing my mate would be wrong, so why did I want to do it so fucking much? My foot twitched faster and faster, the sound of the shower a siren song. My eyes slid back to the door, trying to burn through the wood and see her.

Imogen felt perfect pressed against my body when I slept next to her the other night. My breathing slowed to match hers, and right then I imagined our heart beats syncing. Beating in time, I couldn't have felt more connected. That's why the door seemed like a terrible obstacle, one that needed to be obliterated, and the bear, he showed me how quickly he could shove it off its hinges. We'd stride into that bathroom…

And see her looking up at us in horror, the shower curtain clutched to her naked body.

That mental image cooled any reaction I was having, my breath coming in slower as I focussed on taking longer ones. I kept my focus on my lungs filling, then exhaling, until the door was jerked open. Imogen looked around, a little wild eyed, dressed in a pair of the flannel PJs we bought in bulk. The fabric was still starchy, so it didn't hang right and yet I'd never seen a woman look hotter.

"Feeling better?" That came out weak but she shot me a nervous smile, padding over to the bed and then climbing under the covers. I got up and followed her over. "Imogen?"

"Um yeah, maybe. Should I sleep in that sling? I didn't ask Ginny."

"Side sleeper or back?" I asked.

"Side."

I moved slowly, grabbing some of the many pillows and then went to work, creating a kind of support. She seemed to understand, rolling over and placing her arm in the space I created. The way her body melted into the bed made everything better.

I hated that this happened. I hated that we came by earlier when we thought her shift was supposed to end and waited for her to come out, but when she didn't? We'd assumed she didn't want our support anymore. I hated that we'd accepted that. But most of all, I hated the fact that when she shuffled into place, looking so small in that bed, she had to do so oh-so-carefully to protect her injured arm from yet more pain.

I wanted to kill Phil Jackson with every breath in my body, but right now I needed to focus on Imogen.

"That's actually good." Her eyes rolled my way. "Thanks. So what, are you going to tuck me into bed and read me a story?"

"Damn straight." That came out way too husky, the bear pressing hard against me, but I moved with practised ease, pushing the blankets around her until she was tucked up tight, before producing my book with a flourish. "Tonight we're going to read The Very Grumpy Bear."

"You're not really." She seemed so sure of herself from where she lay, propped up by the pillows. "I'm not a kid. I'm not even hurt that bad."

My hand slid over the cover of the book. The edges of the hardcover had started to get a bit fluffy due to the amount of times I'd opened it, but I just smiled.

"Did your parents ever read you stories when you were a kid?"

"When I was really little, maybe." She didn't seem so sure about that. "I think I can remember something."

"Well, one of the best moments in my day as a kid was when one of my…" My dads, that's what I meant to say, each one taking a night each to read me a book before bed when I was with a kid. "Parents would read to me. It made me feel safe, like the bedroom was a protective bubble and I was right in the middle of it. So…"

She shook her head and was ready to tell me not to bother when something stopped her. A faraway look in her eye told me she was thinking something, but I didn't know what. It softened her expression and she gestured with her good hand for me to continue.

So I did.

I'd intended to sit down on the bed beside her, but looking at the way she was forced to prop up her wrist, I thought better of it, instead dragging the armchair closer. I opened the book, and as soon as I started reading, she fell silent. Not to brag or anything, but I knew I was a pretty damn good reader. The bear came to the fore, just like he always did, giving my voice a little extra growl. When I looked up, I saw her watching me with amusement, but despite herself, Imogen's eyes were heavy. Before I got to the end of the story, they were closed.

I wanted time to stop, to just stare at her then, but that would be an imposition. Instead, I got to my feet, taking the book with me, but when I walked out of her room, I found someone waiting for me.

"Is she alright? How's her arm? I asked Ginny, but she said something about patient, nurse confidentiality. I could've looked at the files, but…" Even Lucas seemed to realise there was an issue with that idea. "Does she need food, water? Did Asher…?" There it was, what he really wanted to know. "Did Asher keep his shit together?"

"Calm your tits," I told his with a smirk. "She's had a shower and is asleep."

"Shower?" Lucas was always the quiet one. Smart as a whip, but pretty much kept to himself until we became friends in high school. I didn't see any of that now. He shoved his hands against my chest. "You had a shower with Imogen after what she's been through?"

"I waited outside of the bathroom like a gentleman, helped her get into bed, and made sure her arm was supported when she laid down. I read her a book and then she fell asleep."

"Oh." The look on his face was comical, but when I grinned, he looked at me like he'd never met me before. "The growly bear book?" He studied the cover, taking in the cartoonish illustration on the front. "Is that the sort of thing she likes?"

"She seemed to like it just fine tonight," I replied, feeling a belated sense of pride.

"Oh. Oh." I watched him deflate in real time. "OK, well, good. Good."

"So wanna grab a beer and something to eat?" I suggested. He was about to say no, go scurrying back to the IT department to lurk amongst the computers, but then I offered something I knew he wouldn't turn down. "We can talk about how we're going to get through this with Imogen."

"OK."