Page 19 of A Promise of Forever (The Vallaverse #3)

Sterling

Heavy pounding jerks me out of sleep so violently that I shoot upright before I'm even fully conscious.

My heart slams against my ribs as sweat pours down my back, every nerve in my body screaming danger.

The sound comes again, a fist hammering against the door like someone's trying to break it down, and terror floods my system so completely that I can't breathe.

Wilson found me. He's here. He's going to drag me back and make good on every threat he's ever made.

A scream tears from my throat before I can stop it, filled with every ounce of fear I've been carrying for months. The sound echoes in the small cottage, bouncing off the walls and making everything feel more chaotic and terrifying. I twist to reach for Forrest, but he’s already out of the nest, a deafening growl overpowering my terror.

He stalks toward the door with a predatory speed that reminds me he's not just any man but a Valla at the peak of his power.

He rips the door open with enough force that I hear wood splinter, then drags whoever was pounding just outside to the right before slamming them against the wall.

The violence of it should probably scare me, but right now I'm too focused on my own terror to process what's happening.

"What could you possibly want?" Forrest's voice is deadly, the kind of tone that promises violence if the answer isn't satisfactory.

Tears stream down my face as I clutch one of the blankets to my chest. If it were Wilson, he would already be demanding that I be returned to him.

And none of my ex-Alphas have tried to get me back like Wilson has.

Not that they won’t try but they just never have.

I swallow nervously, only catching snippets of Forrest’s heated voice between my ragged breaths and the sound of blood rushing through my ears.

It's still dark outside, maybe three or four in the morning based on the quality of light filtering through the windows.

A sob convulses through me as I scoot back against the headboard, a smaller version of Forrest peeking inside.

I recognize his scent from yesterday, most likely Forrest’s brother who'd been in the office.

An Alpha, but one who doesn't set off the same alarm bells that most Alphas trigger in my traumatized brain.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he says, his voice gentle despite the chaos.

"I tried to catch him before he got this far.

There's been a bit of an emergency, and we couldn't find my brother.

No excuse, of course, but give me just a minute, okay? "

I still don't understand what's happening. My mind is caught in the loop of terror, convinced that any second Wilson is going to appear in the doorway and all this safety will evaporate like it was never real. Even if it’s not possible. I’ve seen the security and I checked every goddamn room yesterday.

More snarls echo from outside the cottage, Forrest's voice mixing with what sounds like another man begging or trying to explain something. Then I hear the Alpha yell with obvious frustration. "Fuck, go check on your Omega! You terrified the shit out of him!"

Forrest's response is equally furious. "Then maybe someone shouldn't have been pounding on the fucking door at three in the morning!"

Footsteps approach the cottage, and I instinctively shrink back against the pillows, making myself as small as possible.

When Forrest enters, the look on his face stops my heart completely.

This isn't the kind Valla I've been getting to know over the past day and a half.

His face is twisted with fury, every feature hardened into something that looks capable of extreme violence.

His eyes are so dark they're almost black, pupils blown wide with rage.

Every vein in his neck stands out, and the tension in his massive frame suggests barely controlled violence.

I'm terrified of this version of him. This is what people mean when they warn about Valla, when they say these predators are too dangerous to exist in civilized society. This is the monster that Wilson probably expected to claim me.

Even Forrest's scent has changed, the usual coconut and rum now almost charred with the intensity of his rage. The smell makes my Omega instincts want to submit completely, to bare my throat and hope he doesn't decide I'm a threat worth eliminating.

But as he moves closer to the bed, the rage starts to soften, the charred quality of his scent gradually sweetening back to its normal protective warmth.

By the time he reaches the foot of the bed, all traces of that terrifying anger have disappeared, replaced by concern and guilt.

I stare at him, taking in the cut on his lip and the way his body still trembles with residual tension.

He hurt someone because of me, because my terror woke something violent in him that demanded blood.

"I'm sorry," Forrest apologizes. "I didn't... I hoped you would never see that side of me."

I’m sorry.

No one has ever apologized to me after doing wrong or something they think is wrong.

And yet, in the span of a few minutes, both Forrest and his brother apologized.

It takes me a few moments to realize he's ashamed of what I just witnessed.

He thinks I'm going to reject him now that I've seen the violence he's capable of, now that I understand what kind of monster society says he is.

That fear of being left goes both ways, I suppose.

However, all I can think about is how he went from peaceful sleep to lethal violence in seconds, all because of how I reacted and what I needed.

No one has ever responded to my distress that way before, like my safety was worth more than social niceties or consequences.

Slowly, carefully, I move forward until I'm sitting up on my knees, inches away from him.

I reach up toward his face, my fingers trembling as they hover near his split lip.

"Why did you do that?" I ask, though I think I already know the answer.

Forrest's hands fist at his thighs, like he's physically restraining himself from reaching for me.

"Because I could feel your terror. It wasn't just being scared of an unexpected noise.

It was honest to god, true terror. Your whole body was shaking against mine, and I'm not even sure if you knew it, but you pleaded for it to stop, Sterling. You asked me to make it stop."

I don't remember saying anything, don't remember doing anything except being consumed by fear.

"I don't know what Wilson did to you or whoever else did," Forrest continues, his voice getting rougher with barely suppressed rage. "But fuck, I nearly killed that Beta a second ago for freaking you out. Would have, if Caelan hadn't stopped me."

A strangled sound escapes my throat, something between a sob and a laugh. The admission should horrify me. I should be disgusted by his willingness to kill over what was essentially a misunderstanding. But instead, I feel gratitude and maybe even a little pride that this is my Valla.

"I should hate that," I whisper, my fingers finally making contact with his lip. "But no one has ever done that for me."

Forrest's expression shifts to confusion. "Done what?"

"Stood up for me. Protected me like I mattered more than consequences or social rules.

No one has ever wanted to. I don't want you to kill for me.

That's too much, it's..." I struggle to find the right words.

"But I like that you wanted to. I like that you wanted to make me safe.

" The admission feels dangerous, like I'm revealing too much about how starved I've been for exactly this kind of fierce protection.

But Forrest's expression softens even more, and he steps closer until his lips are just a breath away from mine.

"The world calls me a monster, Sterling," he purrs, his breath ghosting across my face. "Says that my reactions and my emotions make me unfit for society. That Valla like me are too dangerous to be allowed around civilized people."

I think about what I just witnessed, the violence he's capable of, the rage that transformed him into something truly terrifying.

But I also remember how quickly that anger disappeared when he got close to me, how his entire focus shifted to making sure I was okay.

"But you protected me," I say softly. "That can't make you all bad, can it? "

"I like the way you think, little dove."

His eyes search mine, our uneven breaths slowly evening out until we’re matching each other’s rhythm. "Can you kiss me?" The words slip out before I can second-guess them.

"Gladly."

His mouth crashes against mine with none of the gentle hesitation I expected.

It’s full of the passion from the heat spike from earlier, all tongue and need that makes my head spin.

Heat builds in my lower belly as I raise up on my knees, needing more.

His hands move to settle on my waist before sliding down to cup my bare ass, the roughness of his hands drawing a small moan from me.

All thoughts of Wilson flee my mind as his fingers run down the seam of my ass, a shudder climbing up my spine as slick gathers around my hole.

No one has ever touched me like this.

No one has ever wanted to, either.

A desperate, needy sound escapes, Forrest answering with a growl that vibrates through us both as his lips trail to my jaw and then down to my neck. I tense against him, Forrest returning to kiss my jaw and then my cheek, not even needing me to voice my discomfort in order to respond to it.

"Brother, fuck, don't hate me, but we've got to go."

Caelan's voice from outside the cottage breaks through the haze of desire, Forrest breathing out a heavy sigh against my lips.

He pulls back from the kiss, like it physically pains him to stop, his eyes still dark with want when he looks at me.

I frown, confused and a little hurt by the interruption.

"Right now?" I'm still shaky from the earlier terror and the overwhelming kiss, and the thought of Forrest leaving makes anxiety spike through my chest. I don't want to let him go and even though this cottage is perfect, I can’t… I don’t want to be alone.

I sit back on my heels and look out at Caelan standing just outside the cottage door, then back at Forrest. The disappointment must be obvious on my face because Forrest just sighs again, dragging a hand down his face.

"Fuck." He twists around to look at his brother. “Caelan, I can't leave him right now."

Caelan leans against the doorframe, just outside, and I wonder why he’s not coming in.

After all, this house would be his, too, right?

"And if it were any other problem, I’d say you didn’t have to go.

However, you can stay up in the box. We can take care of what we can and then call you down.

Scent Sterling if he'll let you, but we've got to get moving.

Otherwise, we're going to have a bigger mess on our hands.

" He pauses, then adds with obvious reluctance, "And for fuck's sake, you might as well explain what we do here.

He's going to figure it out eventually anyway. "

I blink several times, trying to process what Caelan just said.

Scent him? Inbox? Bigger mess? None of it makes any sense, but I can tell from the tension in both men that whatever emergency pulled them from sleep is serious.

Caelan gives us one last look, then closes the cottage door to give us privacy.

I wait, staring at Forrest for an explanation.

Finally, I voice the question that's been building since I woke up to pounding on the door. "What?"

The single word encompasses everything I don't understand. What emergency? What is Forrest's business really about? What does scenting mean? What am I really getting myself into by accepting his protection?

Forrest looks at me for a long moment, clearly weighing how much to tell me and how to frame it. Then he sits down on the edge of the bed, close enough to touch but giving me space to process whatever he's about to say. I already feel like I’m not going to fucking like it.