Page 16

Maya

I wake up too warm, a sheen of sweat clinging to my skin, my heart hammering as I bolt upright in a panic. The room’s dim, campus lights filtering through the blinds, and I look down to see Dakota wrapped around me, his arm heavy across my waist. Roman’s on my other side, sprawled out, hogging most of the bed. Holt’s not here, but across the room, Brogan’s sitting up on the other bed, gaze firmly focused on the three of us.

I’m disoriented, embarrassment flooding me as the nightmare replays from earlier—Nox charging, his hand on my throat, me running naked through the rink’s hallway. My breath hitches as I swipe at my damp forehead, wishing I could erase it all.

Brogan moves quietly, climbing off the bed with a grace that doesn’t match his broad frame. He holds out a hand, a silent offer, and I hesitate before taking his hand and letting him guide me out from between them. Silently, he guides me to the door, helping me into my shoes, my body still swarmed by their clothes. No words pass between as we head down to the dorm’s main level, the hum of late-night campus life muted.

He leads me to the gym, a familiar space I haven’t seen in years, and I spot a punching bag hanging in the corner, worn from overuse. A sigh tumbles from me, a mix of relief and ache, because it’s not the first time Brogan and Dakota dragged me here—to work off steam after a professor’s unfair grade, to rage at a classmate’s betrayal, to feel something other than trapped. He hands me two gloves from one of the benches, and I take them, pausing as I meet his gaze. “Why aren’t you asking more questions?”

“Do I need to?” His eyes flick over me, lingering for a second on my scar before moving back to my face. “Maya, Nox should’ve never been on campus. He should’ve never been anywhere near the rink. He’s got an agenda, but that’s his problem, not yours. Is there a question you’d like me to ask?”

I slip on the gloves, the Velcro loud in the quiet gym, the one secret I’ve never told anyone, not even Dakota clinging to me like dead weight. Ignoring his question, I focus on the bag in front of me, all that anger and fear bubbling up into my first punch. It’s a flimsy hit, the bag creaking on old chains but the next is harder, then harder still, fists slamming into leather as tears and anger mix, spilling out in gasps. Nox’s face flashes in my head and I hit faster, vision blurring, until my arms ache and my knees wobble from the effort.

Brogan’s there in an instant, pulling me back, his arms wrapping around me. “Hey, love,” he murmurs, voice soft against my hair, “breathe with me. There you go.” I shudder, sucking in air as he guides my breaths, until the panic ebbs. He kisses my forehead, a gentle press that feels like a promise, and leads me to the gym’s showers, the tiles cool under my feet. He stops just outside one of the stalls, barely loosening his hold on me. “Tell me whatever’s eating you alive.”

I swallow, my throat tight, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I didn’t have to have the removal surgery. I could’ve used creams, topical medicines to lessen the pull until it was just a scar, but I needed it out.” My hand drifts to my neck as I step away from him, fingers brushing the jagged mark hidden under the shirt. Brogan’s eyes soften, no judgment, just listening, and I shake my head, pressing on. “No, I took a knife to it, Brogan. That’s why it’s jagged. It would’ve healed fine by now. The surgery was to save my life.”

He steps closer, not crowding, just near enough to feel his warmth. “Did you think I’d judge you for that?” His head tilts slowly, raking over my face with a care that is foreign to me. “Maya, love, you are beautiful and precious and strong in ways you don’t even know. That Alpha put you through hell, terrorized you, used your feelings against you, and then had the audacity to think you’ll walk back into his arms. I have no idea what I’d have done in that situation, but I can tell you—you’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. Because you’re standing here, right now, in front of me.”

I tremble, his words cracking something open. “But the scar…” It’s a weak protest, the shame I’ve carried too long, and he shakes his head, a small smile breaking through.

“Fuck the scar. Do you know what it tells me? That you’re a warrior, a survivor.” He steps closer, giving me time to pull away, and leans down, his lips brushing the scar on my shoulder, a tender kiss that sends a shudder through me—not fear, but something deeper, warmer, like coming home.

I look up at him, eyes burning with unshed tears, letting him see the vulnerability behind the mask. All of it. “Stay.”

Brogan leans in, his breath warm against my lips as he kisses me again, soft at first, like he’s testing the waters. His hands find the hem of Dakota’s oversized shirt, and he pauses, hazel eyes searching mine for permission. I nod, a small jerk of my head, and he slowly pulls the fabric up and over, exposing my skin to the gym’s cool air. Kicking off my shorts, I step into the shower, testing the water until it’s just right, Brogan shedding his shorts and moving into the stall behind me.

I sigh, leaning my head forward under the spray, water slipping over my shoulders, washing away the sweat, the nightmares, Nox’s shadow. Brogan’s lips find the side of my neck—the unscarred side—littering soft kisses along my skin, each one a quiet vow. “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.” His hands rest lightly on my hips, not demanding, just there, the tension in my chest loosening just a fraction.

A shuddering breath falls from my lips as he gently turns me around and then pulls me flush against him. It’s a stability I didn’t know I needed as I slide my arms over his shoulders, crossing them, one of my hands cupping the back of his neck. I need this, need to know I’m okay, that Nox didn’t get further, that I’m still whole. His lips move against mine, hungry but careful, and I open to him, tasting rain and something sweeter, something that’s purely Brogan. The kiss becomes urgent, Brogan walking me back until my spine meets the tiled wall, cool against my heated skin.

I moan softly as his hands slide to my waist, gripping gently, his cock hard and hot against my belly, a quiet reminder of his want. He pulls back, just enough to meet my eyes, water dripping from his lashes. “This only goes as far as you want it to. You need me to stop, you tell me. Neck’s off limits—anything else?” His care, his pause, undoes me, and I swallow, my throat tight with trust I haven’t felt in years.

“Don’t make it hurt,” I whisper, voice trembling, and his expression softens, a promise in his gaze.

“Love,” he purrs, leaning closer, “I’ll never hurt you. And I’m gonna do everything in my power to make sure the world doesn’t either.” He kisses me again, hands roaming my back, my sides, learning me with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. I melt into him, water cascading around us, and let myself feel the safety he’s offering.

His hands slide lower, cupping the backs of my thighs, and he hoists me up, my legs wrapping around his hips on instinct. I gasp against his mouth, clinging tighter as he holds me there. “Okay?” he murmurs, and I nod, kissing him harder, needing more. He shifts, guiding himself to my entrance, and slides into me, filling me with a warmth that’s more than physical.

A moan tears from my throat as my head tips back against the wall, Brogan shallowly thrusting in and out of me as he buries his head in my chest. It’s messy, hurried, water splashing around us, but I need it—this connection, this proof I’m still here, still me. I hold onto him, nails biting into his shoulders, kissing him through gasps, our breaths mingling with the steam.

He’s gentle, hips rolling in a rhythm that builds, heat coiling low in my belly. “Brogan,” I breathe, and he groans softly, lips finding my jaw, my cheek, everywhere but my neck, honoring my limits.

I’m not sure how long we’re pressed against the wall, Brogan loving me with every touch, before he comes inside me, a quiet shudder running through him. It’s like something clicks, a door opening in my chest, and I’m not so scared anymore—not of him, not of Dakota, Roman, Holt. Mates is still too big, too heavy a word, but I want this, want them, in a way I haven’t let myself before.

And then the full strength of his scent hits, fresh rain, a torrential storm, soft and strong all at once, consuming me completely. I bury my nose in his neck, inhaling deep as it tips me over the edge. I come, hard and loud, my moan swallowed by the water and his skin, pleasure crashing through me in waves that leave me trembling.

Brogan holds me through it, easing me down onto shaky legs as the aftershocks fade. He kisses my cheeks, then my lips, a gentle press that feels like a vow. “You’re gonna be addicting, love,” he murmurs, voice rough with affection. “If I had any doubt you were mine before, I don’t now.” He kisses me again, guiding me under the water, relief swirling through my chest as I allow myself to truly lean into what he’s offering.