Page 69 of The Delta’s Rogue (Crescent Lake #4)

“That sounds beautiful.” I squeeze my eyes shut at the familiar image that combination of scents awakens.

An image of sunsets and lush green leaves. A picture of rainbows after an unexpected downpour. A portrait of twinkling stars hanging above the low mountains in the distance.

“It is,” he concurs. “You smell like home.”

I smell like home. Like his home, and like mine.

Home. Where flowers bloom and breezes blow, and everything is sweeter. Where Sebastian’s hand is in mine, and he whispers a promise to me.

“Our bond is muted for me,” I tell him, anticipating his question before he asks it. “I catch wisps of it when we touch, and your scent is there, but it’s not right. It’s not complete.”

“Can you sense your wolf at all?”

“No, I still can’t feel her.”

I don’t bother correcting him. I know I won’t be able to hide it from him for much longer, but now isn’t the time to spill everything.

Sebastian tucks my freshly cut hair behind my ears, then cups my cheeks and lifts my face so our eyes meet. “Are you hungry? Maybe eating will help you get some strength and energy back, so your wolf will wake up.”

My stomach gives a tiny gurgle. It’s echoed by a loud, rumbling roar from his stomach, prompting my lips to twitch with a quiet laugh.

He smiles and chuckles. “I can bring food in here for us.” He pauses, and glances at the door and then back at me. “Unless you want to eat out there?” he suggests, angling his chin towards the door once again.

I follow his line of sight. “I’m allowed to leave the room?”

His nostrils flare, but he bites back his anger. His outrage. “Of course you can leave the room.”

I stare at the door. The room shrinks, closing in on me, as time passes and Sebastian waits for me to answer, to make a decision. The choice looms over me like a large cat crouched in a tree, waiting for its prey to pass beneath the branch so it can pounce.

“Sarina?” Sebastian’s voice wriggles its way into my ears like it’s coming from across a vast plain, and I switch my focus to his face, which is painted with a soft but worried expression. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. ”

“I want to,” I assure him, pressing my palm flat against his chest. “I’m just not sure if I can.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time. If you need to leave and come back here, you just say the word, and I’ll bring you back.”

“Promise?”

“Always, carino .”

My gaze slowly switches to the door. My eyes lock on it, boring into it, engaged in a one-sided staring contest with it—as if I can defeat the perceived obstacle by eye contact alone.

My throat tightens, and I scoot out of Sebastian’s lap and arms. I swing my feet over the side of the bed and set them flat on the floor before I stand on trembling legs.

The door seems further away now that I’m on my feet. My limbs fight me, and my muscles strain as I take one step towards it. I take a second step, bringing my feet level with each other again. My entire body shakes with violent tremors, and water pools in my eyes.

Everything in me rebels. Everything they ingrained in me screams at me to stop, to hold still, to fall on the floor in a crumpled heap.

Imaginary fire licks at my veins—a shadow of the pain when they would use my blood against me.

My brain and body wait for that pain, expect it.

When it doesn’t appear, they assume it’s a trap.

A trick. That the witches are giving me a false sense of security, luring me further into rebellion where they’ll hurt me even worse.

“That’s it, carino ,” Sebastian whispers from behind me. He hovers nearby, ready to intervene and be my strength if asked, but giving me space to decide for myself if I need him.

Another flicker of his love winds around my heart, as soft as a caress of velvet and as decadent as a sip of red wine.

“I can do this,” I say under my breath. My hands clench into fists, and I grit my teeth as I take another step towards the door. “I can do this.”

Each step that moves me closer to the door takes years. The distance seems unending, as if I take two steps back for every one step forward, but I make it. I make it to the door.

I wrap my hand around the knob, twist it, and pull it open .

A gasping sigh of relief heaves out of me when the door stays open, exposing an empty hallway lined with portraits of a blonde ballerina.

When there isn’t an electrifying jolt of pain sent into my blood and through my body, to pin me in place and prevent me from leaving, to punish me for even attempting an escape from my prison disguised as a luxurious bedroom.

Sebastian scoops me into his arms as my legs give way underneath me, and a shuddering sob breaks my lips apart.

“I’ve got you.”

He cradles me to his chest. I curl into him, hiding my face from the world. There isn’t anyone in the hallway, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be anyone around as we travel through the house.

I pinch my lips together to keep any noises from escaping me. My throat burns with my silent cries, and my tears paint streaks down my cheeks, but I make no sound. I give no hint of my true emotional state.

“I mindlinked my brother and asked him to keep everyone away for now,” Sebastian says, assuaging my unspoken fear with his words and his soothing voice. “I didn’t want you to be overwhelmed or bombarded with questions you’re not ready to answer.”

I hug my stomach, close my eyes, and press my nose against his chest, trying to catch another whiff of his scent.

“And because I’m not sure how my lycan will react,” he adds. “He’s pretty on edge.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I tuck myself into him more, seeking the warmth emanating from him and the comforting sensations from our bond that still lurks behind a slowly fading wall of fog.

Sebastian brings me to a table and lowers me into a chair. He kneels by my side and links our fingers together, giving mine a squeeze as he lifts them to his lips. “I’ll be right back, okay?” He stays on his knees as he waits for me to acknowledge him, to give him permission to leave my side.

“Okay.” My voice cracks around the word.

He kisses my forehead before leaving me in the chair. I sit upright with my chin dipped, eyes staring into the smooth, polished walnut table. I don’t look at anything else. No other details appear in my line of sight, save for that dark wooden surface .

Sebastian moves around the kitchen behind me, opening drawers and cabinets, preparing food for both of us, and I sit quietly, waiting for him to return. I’m too exhausted to do anything else.

I don’t have to wait too long. He returns after a few short moments and sets a plate in front of me and another next to me. He digs into his food before he even sits down, scarfing down a huge bite of toast topped with fresh avocado.

I remain frozen, hands resting in my lap and eyes staring at the food. I try to grab the spoon and eat a bite of the yogurt with fruit and honey Sebastian dished up for me, but I can’t. My body won’t respond to my mental commands. It won’t let me feed myself. Not without permission.

I glance at Sebastian from the corner of my eye.

He stares at me, his plate already close to empty, a frown creasing the space between his eyebrows. “Why aren’t you eating?”

I lick my lips and wring my hands together beneath the table. “I wasn’t sure if I could. You didn’t tell me to eat.”

His hand curls into a fist on top of the table and he tilts his head towards the ceiling. “Fuck!”

“I’m sorry.” I apologize immediately, my words overlapping his, as I duck my head lower. My shortened strands of hair swing forward, hiding my face and the water lining my lids.

“No.” He takes my face in his hands. “Don’t apologize.

You should not apologize to me when I’m the one who messed up.

You should not apologize for how you’re processing the pain they’ve caused you.

” His thumbs swipe beneath my eyelids, taking the pooling tears with them.

“Come here.” He scoots his chair back to make room for me.

I climb onto his lap without further prompting.

He wraps his right arm around my waist and slides my plate in front of us. “You need to eat, okay, carino ? I need you to eat.”

My hands rest on the edge of the table, and I continue to stare at it, fighting against the lack of permission, the lack of an order from him.

Sebastian rests his forehead against my shoulder blade and tightens his arm around my waist. His fingers wrap around my hip bone, and he squeezes it gently. “Please eat, Sarina. ”

His voice is quiet, but hidden within the softness is an urgency—a need, a desire—to beg me to do this for him.

His words aren’t quite an order. I sense his hesitation to give me an actual command, to treat me like a piece of property.

He’d do it. He’d do it for me if I told him it was the only way. And because he’d do that for me, I know I can do this for him.

I reach for my spoon even as my mind shrieks like a steaming kettle of hot water and my muscles strain like a too tight rubber band. But I do it. I grab the spoon, scoop up a small portion of yogurt and a piece of fruit with it, and lift it to my mouth.

As soon as I start chewing, Sebastian relaxes beneath me, letting out a relieved sigh.

He says nothing to me—no words of encouragement, no exclamations of praise—but he lifts his head and rubs my back with his free hand.

Up and down his hand slides as I eat, sending heat into my body and easing the tension in my muscles.

I eat slowly, conscious of the reaction my stomach may have from too much food at once, and I revel in the comfort Sebastian gives me by caressing me and supporting me with his presence.

His hand glides down my left arm to my wrist. He lifts it, thumb tracing right above the scars the cuffs left behind. My nose wrinkles as I grit my teeth and force myself not to wince at his touch.

“These should be fading faster,” he says, concern and confusion etched into his voice. “Seven days isn’t long enough for your scars to be this deep or your wolf to be this subdued.”

I glance down, where the layers of scar tissue form a thick band of red and pink around my wrist, created by the constant rubbing of the silver on my skin and the wolfsbane preventing my body from healing itself with its usual, supernatural speed.

I set my fork on my plate and brace my palms on the table. “ Sebastián …it was only seven days for you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“ Para mí …” I swallow and shut my eyes. “For me, it was weeks.”

Sebastian’s movements stop, and I sense his eyes boring into me. “Weeks?”

“Maybe even months.”

“How is that possible? ”

“They used some kind of time-altering magic so there would be enough time to train all of us before the auction. I honestly don’t know exactly how long it was for me. The days… They’re all a blur. But it was much, much longer than one week.”

The silence that follows is terrifying. The tension grows and grows as Sebastian processes my confession. His muscles vibrate, and I brace myself for the eruption, for the rage-induced lycan tantrum that this new information is sure to awaken in him.

That doesn’t happen. There is no explosive roar. No growling and raging and screaming from him.

I glance at him, and his expression surprises me.

His guard is down, showing me every ounce of pain in his heart.

It leaks from his eyes in glistening, welling tears that hang off his lashes—tears that are the raindrops from the storm clouds in his eyes.

He doesn’t hide it from me. He lets me see it all , lets me see him in his moment of vulnerability.

It reminds me that I am not alone in my sorrow, in my anguish. It reminds me that our separation and my abduction affected both of us. That, in different ways, it broke us both. That this is something we need to heal from—together.

I reach for his face and send him a hearty dose of love through our bond that I still barely feel.

His eyes close, and he leans his face into my hand as he takes a shaky breath. “I should have never let you leave without me,” he says, the corner of his mouth tickling my palm.

I press my forehead against his, and he hugs me tighter, wrapping both arms around me. “I should have asked you to leave with me.”

“Why didn’t you?”

I lean away just enough to meet his eyes. “Estaba demasiado asustada,” I admit.

“Are you too afraid now?”

Ask me to leave with you , his eyes say. Ask me to join you. Tell me to leave my pack behind and follow you to the ends of the earth.

He’d give it all up for me. But he doesn’t know the truth yet.

“ Sebastián , I…” I dip my chin and tuck my hair behind my ears to keep it out of my face. “There is something—”

The front door slams open, and I flinch at the sound, heart skipping a beat.

Sebastian frowns and tightens his arms around me as hurried, pounding footsteps draw closer to our location .

I sense the newcomer before I see him. His powerful aura, an aura that pulses like a living, breathing extension of his strength and his lycan, travels through the house, carving a path for him as it seeks me out.

Even with my inability to feel my lycan yet, his aura calls to me and awakens a part of my soul.

My breath catches, and I swivel my head towards the arched entrance. As the footsteps draw nearer, I rise to my feet, my body moving without a second thought.

Sebastian tenses and grabs my hand. He holds it tightly to keep me close, to keep me from leaving his side, his overprotective, extra-possessive instincts getting the better of him.

“Sarina? What’s wrong?”

There is no time for me to answer Sebastian, though, because the footsteps come to a halt in the archway, announcing the presence of our unexpected, unannounced visitor.

The visitor fills the opening with his towering form, drawing the attention of anyone around him with his powerful presence.

Sebastian rises to his feet too, glancing with growing confusion between me and the male interrupting our meal.

But I—as small and broken as I am— I am the sole target of our guest’s focus. The center of his attention. The apple of his eye.

He scans every inch of me, searching for outward harm. His gaze lingers on the scars on my wrists and neck before his remorseful and distressed stare locks onto my face.

“Sarina,” he says with an expression that’s meant to be both an apology and a sign of his relief.

My lips tip into a tear-filled smile, and I squeeze Sebastian’s hand as I greet the second most important male in my life. “Hi, Dad.”