Page 25 of A Promise of Forever (The Vallaverse #3)

Sterling

Tucked back into the little cottage, surrounded by the soft blankets and pillows that smell like Forrest, everything is perfect.

Well, mostly perfect. Something feels wrong.

Thea's warm apple pie scent drifts through the door, even after I told her she didn’t have to physically stand right outside.

But she made it clear that Forrest wouldn’t be happy if anything happened to me.

When I didn’t like that explanation, she told me she was happy to serve a boss who had been nothing but kind over the years and had seen her as more than just a Beta.

That’s all good and well but it’s been hours since I stuffed myself in here and Forrest still hasn’t come back.

Sleep comes and goes but every time I wake without him at my side, I worry he’s not coming.

Or that he doesn’t want to. Or that he’s searching for a way to give me back.

Just a few days ago, I couldn’t even fathom the idea of something like this and now I’m horrified at the idea that he may not want me.

Letting the panic get the better of me, I slip off the bed and head to the door, my hand hovering over the doorknob. That little knot in my chest is getting worse, the feeling that maybe something happened to Forrest growing. Maybe he can’t come back.

A sharp pain spreads through me as I grumble under my breath about broken promises and false dreams. Some part of me knows the irritability is coming from my heat, my instincts drawing me to need Forrest more than I would under normal circumstances.

But it also just feels wrong being in this space without him.

Giving into my baser instincts, I yank open the door with enough force that it bangs against the wall.

A brisk wind spills inside, bringing heavy rain with it, a downpour that I couldn’t even hear from the safety of my little space.

Thea twists around from beneath an erected awning that wasn’t there a few hours ago, her expression shifting from bored watchfulness to concerned attention.

"What's wrong?" she asks, already moving toward me like she expects to find a threat.

She stops just at the entrance, not coming any closer.

The question makes me suddenly remember my place in this world. I'm just an Omega, not someone who gets to make demands or stomp around in fits of temper. Fear and embarrassment flood through me as I shrink back into the doorway.

"Where is Forrest?" My voice comes out smaller than I intended, all the anger drained away and replaced with anxiety.

Thea sighs, her shoulders dropping a little as her voice softens. "Oh, he's..."

"Is he hurt? Is he here? Did he come back?

Why didn't he come back to me?" I wring my hands in front of me, stepping closer to the edge of the cottage, but I can’t see much of the main house from this angle. There’s a few lights on, but the darkness and rain blocks out most everything else, droplets catching at the bottom of my shirt and soaking into my pants.

Without waiting for Thea's answer, I step out onto the pavement, not even caring that I’m ill-dressed.

My feet splash through puddles in the garden path, rain soaking through my borrowed clothes within seconds, but I don't care.

I need to see Forrest, need to verify that he's okay and figure out what I did wrong.

Because it had to be something I did, right?

Thea follows right behind me, her voice raised to be heard over the rain. "Sterling, wait! He had to deal with some business and he gets into these moods afterward. They aren't really pleasant to be around. Please, he wouldn't want to hurt you."

The words make me stop and turn to face her, rain running down my face and mixing with tears started from the panic. "Something is actually wrong with him? Is he injured? Please, I need to know."

"He's not injured," Thea says carefully, clearly trying to find words that won't freak me out more. She gestures back to the cottage, but I don’t budge from where I am. "He's just... processing some things. Forrest can be intense after he handles certain business matters."

"Can I please see him?" It almost feels like a plea, a desperate whine following as I meet her eyes. "I just need to see him. To know he's okay." To know that I didn’t do something wrong. To know that he still wants me.

Thea pulls out her phone, water already beading on the screen. "How about I call him first? Let him know you're worried?"

"Why can't I just see him?"

Thea sighs heavily, clearly weighing her options, then pulls up Forrest's contact and places the call on speaker. The rain lets up a little, but it does nothing for my visibility. The phone rings once, twice, and then Forrest's voice comes through, rough and tired.

"What's wrong?"

Thea starts to speak, but I cut her off, hating that I can hear the slight echo.

It means he isn’t all that far away, but he chose to stay in the main house rather than come back to me.

"Why won't you come here? You’re here, right?

At the main house? Why? Did I do something wrong?

You said to use my colors, sir, and I did.

I said red and you let me leave and now you won't come back and I don't understand what I did. "

There's a long pause where all I can hear is rain and my own racing heartbeat. Then I see movement at the back door of the main house across the yard. Forrest appears in the doorway, and even from this distance, I can see that he looks terrifying.

His expression carries the same barely controlled rage I witnessed when someone woke us up hours earlier.

His jaw is clenched tight, every line of his body radiating the same dangerous tension.

This is the monster people warn about when they talk about Valla, the predator that society fears and tries to contain.

But I need to see him anyway.

Forrest starts moving toward me slowly, like he's trying to control every step and keep himself from doing something he'll regret. The rain soaks him immediately, plastering his shirt to his muscular frame and droplets running down his hardened face. By the time he reaches me, I’m even more of a mess, panic and terror running down my spine as I wait for him to explain.

I search his expression for answers but find none, gently reaching up to run my fingers along the edge of his jaw. “Si-sir?”

Nearly every instinct is telling me to bow my head and submit to him, except for some part of me telling me that my Valla needs me.

Just as much as I need him. Forrest takes a step closer and then leans down to kiss me, his lips cold from the rain but his mouth hot with barely contained emotion.

When he pulls back, he murmurs against my lips, "I'm sorry. "

The apology doesn't feel like enough. I whimper and lean up for more contact, needing to feel connected to him in ways that go beyond words. Forrest responds by picking me up, his large hands sliding beneath my thighs to support my weight, and I immediately wrap my legs around his waist.

He turns to Thea, who's standing a respectful distance away, trying to pretend she's not watching our reunion. "You can go. Thank you for staying with him."

"Have a good night, boss," Thea replies with obvious relief, already heading toward the main house and out of the rain.

Forrest carries me back into the cottage and drops into one of the chairs near the door. I cling to him like a lifeline, my face buried in his neck while I try to process the overwhelming emotions flooding through my system.

"Tell me what I did wrong and I'll fix it, sir," I plead against his skin. "Why wouldn't you come back? You said an hour and it's been all night and I thought... I thought..."

I can't finish the sentence because there are too many terrible possibilities crowding my mind.

That he realized I'm too damaged. That the incident with the waiter proved I'm more trouble than I'm worth.

That he found someone better during those hours away.

That Wilson somehow convinced him to give me back.

Forrest shushes me, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head. "What I do can get very messy. I told you before that the world calls me a monster, and you've only seen the tip of the iceberg, little dove."

The endearment catches my attention despite my distress. Something soft and fragile that needs protection. Is that how he sees me?

I pull back slightly to look at his face, really look at him for the first time since he picked me up.

His knuckles are bruised and split, dried blood visible in the creases of his skin.

There's a hardness in his expression that wasn't there before, like he's seen or done something that changed him in the last several hours.

"I don't understand," I whisper, reaching down to run my fingers across his damaged hands. "Did you kill someone?" Confusion rumbles through me as I continue to inspect him. I should be more terrified, but I’m just worried now. The emotions are confusing.

"You asked me not to," Forrest replies, his voice rough. He settles deeper into the chair, giving me a little more space. "No, I didn't kill anyone. But I wanted to. God, I wanted to."

The admission should probably scare me. Instead, I find myself asking, "Did the person you hurt at least do something bad?"

Forrest nods, his expression darkening further. "He brought drugs into my club. I draw a hard line at that. I told everyone who works for me that I won't tolerate any substances that could bring federal attention or hurt the people in my establishment. He violated that trust."

I appreciate that he's not trying to explain his way out of the violence or make excuses for what he did.

He hurt someone who broke his rules, and he's owning that choice rather than pretending it was necessary or justified beyond his own standards.

But that doesn't explain the part that's really bothering me.

"Why would you not come here?" I tilt my head to the side, a shiver running down my spine from the rain-soaked clothes. "Why would you stay away all night when you promised to be back in an hour?"

Forrest's expression shifts to something like regret mixed with self-loathing.

"I didn't want to scare you. I was covered in another man's blood, and I was still riding the rage from what I'd done.

I thought coming back here like that would terrify you, make you realize what kind of monster you've tied yourself to. "

"You scared me more by not coming back. I thought I did something wrong. I thought using my safe word meant you didn't want me anymore." Another shiver has me leaning forward into his chest without asking, Forrest’s arms immediately coming around me.

"Let's get you in a warm shower and back to bed. You're freezing."

"Only if you're staying," I insist, curling my fingers into his shirt. "I don't want to be alone again. Please." I crook my head up just enough to catch his expression softening completely, one of his hands moving to drag me closer.

"I'm staying," Forrest promises, standing up with me still wrapped around him. "I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

He carries me into the small bathroom and sets me down on the counter. The shower is barely big enough for one person, let alone two, but Forrest starts stripping off his wet clothes without hesitation.

I watch him, taking in the beauty of my Valla now that we’re in better light. He’s absolutely gorgeous, dark skin stretched over endless muscles, and that thick cock hanging between his legs begging some part of me to do something about it.

In another world, I might have, but I’m both too tired and too freaked out to do anything more than watch.

Forrest’s purr strengthens as he drops the last of his clothes to the tiled floor with a splat before stepping up to me, my fingers trembling too much to even start on mine.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” He lets out a heavy sigh as he helps me out of my shirt and then kneels in front of me, his fingers teasing the hem of my pants.

“I’ll make you a promise, Sterling. I’ll always come to you.

Always. If I find the door locked, I’ll get the message but from now on, I won’t shy away from you. ”

I stare into those dark eyes of his, the sincerity of his words hitting deeper than anything else he could have said. Placing my hands on either side of his face, I press a kiss to his forehead, his rumbling acceptance everything I didn’t know I needed. “Thank you, sir.”

Forrest stays on his knees for several moments, my breath catching in my chest when he leans his head on my thigh much the same way I’ve done to him. “You’re perfect for me, little dove.”

No one’s ever called me that.

But this Valla, kneeling for me, called me perfect, a broken Omega with more trauma than sense. How can he possibly think I'm perfect? And yet, the longer we stay in the position, the more I’m inclined to believe that he’s not lying to me.