Page 7 of The Honor of Being Hers (Terms of Devotion #1)

Ryan was waiting in the conservatory when she arrived, precisely as they’d arranged. His tall frame was tense despite his casual stance. She could see the subtle signs of nerves in the careful set of his broad shoulders and slightly tense expression.

Sunlight filtered through tall glass panes and cascaded over exotic ferns and trailing ivy, casting intricate dappled shadows across the warm stone floor.

The space felt like a sanctuary—part greenhouse, part sitting room, filled with the gentle sounds of water trickling from a small fountain and the soft rustle of leaves.

He stood near one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, hands clasped loosely behind his back, his presence filling the room with that delicious scent that had haunted her dreams.

Today was different. Today, she could smell him properly—rich spice and the electric charge that always preceded storms, a combination that made her Omega biology respond with involuntary interest despite her conscious wariness.

Her suppressants were holding, but the edge was softer now, allowing her to experience the full complexity of his scent.

Lauren stopped in the doorway, arms crossed tightly over her chest like armor. The stone threshold was cool beneath her feet, grounding her as her heart hammered against her ribs. She forced herself to stay, to face this moment she’d been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.

He didn’t look at her right away, didn’t make any move toward her. Just said softly, without turning around, “I brought you the security report. The one about that tampering with your suppressants.”

She stepped inside slowly, every movement deliberate and wary. His scent seemed to curl around her with each breath, as she found herself unconsciously cataloging the notes, sandalwood, cardamom, leather and something indefinably masculine that made her mouth water. “Why?”

“Because you asked to stay safe here. Safety starts with knowledge; with an understanding of what we’re dealing with.”

She approached the low table where a manila folder waited, taking it without risking any physical contact with him.

The manila was rough beneath her fingertips, the papers inside rustled softly as she carried them to the furthest end of the cushioned bench that ran along the windows.

The velvet upholstery was soft against her legs as she settled down.

He didn’t attempt to sit, maintaining the distance she needed.

A long silence stretched between them, filled only with the soft sounds of the conservatory and the whisper of pages as she scanned the security analysis.

The technical details were sobering. Someone with significant medical knowledge and resources had deliberately sabotaged her medication with a compound designed to fail under stress.

Yet, she found it difficult to concentrate on the words when his scent kept drawing her attention. Every time she breathed, her body responded with little sparks of awareness that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with recognition.

“I didn’t expect you to look the same,” she said finally, her eyes fixed on a curl of ivy that had wound its way around a support beam near the ceiling.

“I’m not the same person you knew.” His voice carried years of regret and careful self-examination, but underneath it was something else—the rich rumble of an Alpha who was carefully controlling his responses to her proximity.

“I know.” Her voice was barely audible, though she had no doubt her scent was broadcasting her whole emotional turmoil to his sensitive Alpha nose. “That’s what makes this so much harder.”

Ryan exhaled slowly through his nose, the sound heavy with understanding. She could hear the slight change in his breathing, the way her scent was affecting him even as he fought to maintain his composure. “Say it. Whatever you need to say.”

She turned toward him then, meeting his eyes for the first time since entering the conservatory. The golden flecks in his dark irises seemed more pronounced than she remembered, and there was a heat there that made her Omega nature flutter with interest.

“You broke me,” she said simply. Her wire-rimmed glasses had slipped down her nose slightly, she pushed them up with one finger. A nervous gesture that made her look younger, more vulnerable.

He flinched as if she’d struck him, his green eyes darkening with pain, but he didn’t look away. She could see his hands tighten behind his back, knuckles probably white with tension, the muscles in his strong jaw working as he fought for control.

“I looked up to you,” she continued, the words coming faster now that the dam had burst. “I didn’t understand why I always wanted to be near you, why every instinct told me you were safe.

I thought something was fundamentally wrong with me.

I kept thinking: he’ll protect me, he makes me feel calm, and then you’d—”

Her voice cracked, years of buried pain rising to the surface. However, underneath the hurt, she could feel something else stirring, the same biological pull that had confused her as a child, now magnified by adult awareness and the knowledge of what it meant.

“You made me feel disgusting for trusting that biological instinct. Made me feel pathetic for continuing to fall for it, over and over again.”

Ryan swayed on his feet slightly, his tall frame seeming to vibrate with barely contained tension.

His hands remained locked behind his back as if he were physically restraining himself from reaching for her.

She could see his jaw clench when he shifted, and smelled the spike in his scent, as if her pain affected him on a visceral level.

“I know. I remember every moment of it.”

“No, you don’t understand,” she said, her voice rising with frustration. “Because now I’m here, and my body is doing it again. Every cell in me wants to be near you. Wants to curl up in your lap and rub my nose against your neck and let you fix everything that’s wrong with my world, and I—”

Her voice broke slightly, but this time it wasn’t just from emotional pain. The admission had sent a wave of heat through her body, her Omega nature responding to the possibility of getting what it had always craved.

“I hate that I still feel this way. I hate that after everything you did, part of me still wants you.”

“I hate that I made you feel that way about something that should be beautiful,” he said softly, his voice rough with self-loathing and something more profound, hungrier.

“I hate that I taught you to distrust the very instincts that were trying to protect you, trying to guide you toward what you needed.”

She swiped angrily at her eyes, furious at her own vulnerability. “You were supposed to be the one I felt safe with. Instead, you were the one who taught me what it meant to be prey.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t offer empty platitudes or excuses.

Just stood there, his scent thick with genuine grief and regret, letting her pain wash over him without trying to deflect or defend.

Surprisingly, she could smell the change in him, too—the way her proximity was affecting his instincts, making them rise to the surface despite his careful control.

“I was seventeen, stupid, and cruel,” Ryan said finally, his voice raw with self-recrimination.

His careful composure was cracking, revealing the man beneath the polished exterior.

“I didn’t know what I was doing to Omegas around me, and you took the worst of it, for no other reason than your reactions triggered something in me I didn’t understand, but craved.

You should know, you deserved nothing but protection and care.

There’s no excuse for what I did to you. None.”

She looked at him then, really looked, and saw the truth written in every line of his face.

“I’ve spent the last eight years trying to make amends,” he continued.

“Not just feeling sorry, but actually working to fix the damage I caused. Funding scholarships for Omega students who’ve been bullied.

Working with programs that teach young Alphas how to recognize and nurture mate bonds instead of destroying them.

” His voice grew stronger. “It doesn’t undo what I had done to you, but I needed to try to balance the scales somehow. ”

“Why?” she whispered.

“Because what I did to you was unforgivable, but I needed to become someone worthy of your forgiveness anyway. Because you deserved better then, and you deserve better now. Because I’ve regretted it every single day since presenting as an Alpha and realizing the effect I had on those around me.

I wanted to make sure no other Omega ever felt the way I made you feel. ”

The sincerity in his voice, the way he didn’t try to minimize or excuse his actions, hit her harder than any dramatic breakdown would have. This was genuine remorse. Real change. Real work toward becoming better.

“I want to believe you’ve changed,” she said softly.

“I have,” he said with quiet conviction. “I’m not the same person who hurt you. I won’t ask you to forget what I did, but I’m hoping you might be willing to get to know the man I became.”

Lauren studied his face, the careful control, the way he was holding himself back despite every instinct urging him forward. This was Ryan choosing her comfort over his own needs, prioritizing her in a way he had never done before.

“I think I’d like that,” she said, and felt something shift in the air between them.

“Really?” His voice was barely a whisper, hope threading through the disbelief.

“Really.” She took a step closer, then another, until she was standing directly in front of him. “I forgive you, Ryan. I choose to start over.”

The relief that flooded his features was immediate and overwhelming. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”

“But I need something from you,” she said, reaching up to touch his face gently.

“Anything.”