Chapter 15
15
I rock back and forth, rising waves of panic crashing over me.
Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.
Leo waddles into view, one hand braced on his rounded belly, worry furrowing his brow. Then he turns to Damien and Oliver, and his rosebud mouth forms an O of understanding.
“Hey!” Leo waddles over to them and shoves Damien. “Go find your brother. Now.”
Damien’s icy stare shifts to me, and I shrink away from it, fresh wounds tearing through my heart. He doesn’t want me anymore. I’m too broken, too damaged.
He turns back to Oliver and pinches his chin. “Behave.”
With a last glance at me, Damien strides out of the room.
Oliver starts toward me, arms outstretched. “Seven, are you?—”
“Stay away from me!” Unable to bear his pity, his disappointment that I’m not the brother he remembers, I curl tighter in on myself.
“Give him space.” Leo tugs on Oliver’s arm. “Let’s wait for Damien.”
Oliver hesitates, but allows Leo to lead him a few steps back. “Why do we need to wait for Damien?”
“Because they’re…” Leo widens his eyes and gives me a pointed look.
Confused, Oliver follows his line of sight, and realization dawns, followed swiftly by fury.
Footsteps pound down the hall, and Damien rushes into the room. He locates me right away and hurries forward. “Hey, sweetheart, are we having a bad day?”
Oliver steps between us, shoving him in the chest. “What have you been doing with my baby brother?”
“Not now.” Damien moves Oliver out of the way to hold out the blanket. “Hey, sweetheart, was this too overwhelming? Do you need to go back to our?—”
Oliver steps between us again. “How dare you sleep with my little brother! He’s nineteen !”
Damien’s jaw hardens as he grabs Oliver’s arm, shoving him behind him as he speaks to someone else in the room. “Tell your husband to sit down. He’s freaking out Seven.”
“Don’t touch my mate,” another man—also Damien—snarls.
Damien ignores the warning and turns back to me, shaking out the blanket. When he kneels, the other Damien, the cold one from a different reality, appears behind him.
Oh, god, my brain broke.
My arms rise to cover my head again as I rock in place. “How are there two? Why is this happening?”
Warmth envelops me, along with Damien’s pheromones, smelling like comfort and home. A whine escapes me. This is my Alpha.
“Hey,” he breathes into my ear. “You’re okay. I’m here.”
With a sob, I uncurl and crawl into his embrace, seeking his pheromones.
“That’s it, sweetheart.” His arms come around me. “Keep breathing.”
I wind my body around him, clinging tight.
“You’re safe.” With one hand on the back of my head and his arm supporting my hips, he stands. “Let’s go back home and try again another day.”
“Where the hell are you taking Dylan?” Oliver demands shakily.
Shuddering, I press my face harder against Damien’s neck, clinging to him tighter.
Damien’s chest rumbles as he speaks. “Stop calling him that.”
“Why not? That’s his name! Dylan. My little brother. The one I started the Vanishing Voices blog for, the one—” He cuts off to clear the thickness from his throat. “The one I thought some cannibal ate. I grieved for him, so don’t you dare walk away with him now before I have answers!”
A sob wrenches from my throat. Oliver’s pain tears at me, but I can’t deal with him. Not yet. Not when I’m so raw, so overwhelmed.
“This isn’t about you right now, Oliver!” Damien roars. “Can’t you see he’s suffering? Back off!”
A muffled cry sounds, and I peek over Damien’s shoulder as Oliver turns to collapse into Damien’s arms, his shoulders shaking.
Confused and afraid, I duck my head back down. “Two Damiens. I don’t… I can’t…”
Damien strokes my back in soothing circles. “Remember when I told you about my twin, Caleb? Did I not tell you we’re identical?”
A memory surfaces through my panic. “Identical? Not… Not a Damien from another world who doesn’t want me?”
“Never.” Damien’s arms tighten around me. “I will always want you, sweetheart. You’re mine.”
With a shiver, I lift my lips to his ear. “Prove it.”
Damien rumbles, and without a word, he turns on his heel and strides toward the doorway. My pulse races, craving his touch to chase away the panic of losing him.
Oliver’s sharp confusion chases after us. “Where are you going?”
Damien pauses, half turning to address my brother. “We’re going to our suite so Seven can ride my cock until he’s happy again. Then, we’re going to call our therapist.”
Oliver sputters, but Damien ignores him, carrying me out of the music room and down the hallway. Each step jostles me against his solid frame, sending sparks of desire skittering across my skin, forcing out the panic and uncertainty.
In the elevator, I nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent. My stomach dips as we ascend, bringing us closer to home.
“Need you.” My lips brush his pulse point. “Need to feel you, to know you’re real.”
Damien palms my ass as he steps off the elevator. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
Down the hallway, Damien’s hold on me shifts to one arm while he punches in the code to our suite.
“Love you,” I whisper.
“I love you, too, sweetheart.” He kicks the door shut behind us and strides for the bedroom. “Now let me prove it.”
My body aches as I settle onto the couch, muscles sore from hours of being entangled together with my Alpha.
Now, he sits beside me, his solid presence acting as my anchor as Dr. Foster takes the seat across from us. Nerves flutter in my stomach, worried this latest episode set us back, and he’ll rescind his approval for Damien and me to be together.
I press closer to Damien’s side, craving the reassurance of his touch and the comfort of his pheromones. His arm wraps around my shoulders, and I relax into his warmth.
“Seven, I want to start by acknowledging how far you’ve come,” Dr. Foster begins. “The challenges you’ve faced over the last year have been overwhelming, but your determination to work through your trauma shows resilience and a desire to heal.”
Caught off guard by his praise, I clutch Damien’s hand beneath the blanket that covers our laps. Damien squeezes my fingers, and pride softens his handsome features.
Dr. Foster clasps his hands in his lap. “Damien explained what happened today, and there is no shame in your reaction. It does not mean you are broken.”
I bite my bottom lip to stop its trembling. We’ve spoken a lot about how I don’t always feel like a whole person, and I appreciate his validation.
“I don’t like how I shut down in front of O-Oliver.” I flush at stuttering over my brother’s name even as I squeeze Damien’s hand tighter. “S-seeing him here, I wasn’t expecting it, and…” Tears well up. “I don’t want to tell him what happened to m-me.”
“You’re not obligated to,” he reassures me. “It’s important to set clear boundaries with Oliver. His grief is real and valid, but it’s not your responsibility to bear. You can have empathy for his pain without taking it on as your own.”
“If he doesn’t respect that, then he won’t be allowed around you,” Damien growls. “The family house is big enough to keep your distance when he visits, if that’s what you want.”
“I don’t want to hurt…I love my brother.” Guilt churns in my gut. “But seeing him so suddenly, being reminded that I used to be D-Dylan…it’s brought up a lot of confusion for me. How do I reconcile who I was with who I am now?”
I scoot closer to Damien, almost in his lap now. “I caused him so much pain. I feel like I…I don’t know…I owe him for disappearing.”
Damien’s jaw clenches, tension thrumming through his muscular frame. “You don’t owe him anything. You didn’t run away from him. You were kidnapped.”
He drops a kiss on the top of my head. “If you want, Dr. Foster and I can talk to him first and set your boundaries for you.”
“It’s a lot of external factors on top of your internal struggles,” Dr. Foster says with empathy. “Your feelings of guilt and confusion are valid and understandable. If you need me to, I will absolutely meet with Oliver. I can even facilitate your visits until you’re comfortable being alone with him, the same as I did with you becoming comfortable without Damien.”
Grateful for them both, I whisper, “I appreciate that.”
Dr. Foster leans forward. “Now, let’s review your grounding exercises for when you start to dissociate or panic, especially if it’s triggered by thoughts of Oliver or your life as Dylan.”
For the next thirty minutes, we practice focusing on my breath, engaging my senses with the rule of three, and he reminds me about counting backward from ten. All methods that flew straight out the window when confronted by my brother’s sudden appearance.
For Damien, Dr. Foster suggests active listening, him hearing me out without judgment, even if it means watching as I put myself into situations likely to cause panic, and him reflecting my feelings back to me.
“It’s important to remember, Damien, that while your protective instincts as an Alpha are strong, Seven also needs the autonomy to work through things in his own way, at his own pace,” Dr. Foster says. “You can be his safe place without taking on the entire burden yourself.”
Damien lifts my hand to kiss my knuckles. “I understand.”
I nuzzle his chest, breathing in his pheromones. My mind’s all jumbled up with the past, the present, and the uncertain future. But I cling to Dr. Foster’s advice like a lifeline, determined to untangle the knots inside me, even if I have to do it one thread at a time.
Dr. Foster’s attention returns to me. “I want you to know it’s okay to let go of the identity others have thrust upon you. Dylan may be linked to your past, but he doesn’t define who you are at this moment. Neither does Seven. You have the right to grow, to change, and to become whoever you want to be.”
His words wash over me, both terrifying and liberating. The idea of shedding my past, of stepping into an unknown future, sends my heart racing. Who would I be if not Seven or Dylan?
“I also want to suggest something for the two of you.” Dr. Foster’s gaze shifts between Damien and me. “In times of high stress or uncertainty, it’s helpful to have little rituals or ‘anchors’ to keep you connected. A special phrase you say to each other, a gentle touch, or even just setting aside dedicated time each day to nurture your bond. These small acts can provide a sense of stability and reassurance when everything becomes overwhelming.”
Damien and I have already developed our own little rituals, the way he always kisses my forehead before we fall asleep, the way I hold his hand when I’m anxious. Dr. Foster’s encouragement to lean into those moments validates prioritizing our connection.
As our session winds down, and Dr. Foster takes his leave, I trace the lines on Damien’s palm.
“What are you thinking?” Damien asks.
“Being Dylan… That’s not me anymore.” I trace the blunt curve of his nail. “Am I disrespecting my parents, who gave me that name?”
“No, it’s not disrespectful. If they were still alive, they would want you to embrace who you are now.” Damien tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Do you prefer Seven?”
I shake my head. “I’m used to it, but I don’t like where it comes from.”
“Any idea of what you’d like instead?” When I shake my head and wiggle closer, he scoops me all the way onto his lap. “There’s no rush. Take your time to decide.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “Sorry I disrupted your meeting earlier.”
“Never be sorry for needing me. And you didn’t disrupt anything.” Damien’s hand settles on my knee. “Raphael’s pissed we brought Avery in without discussing it with him first, and he and Aaiden are butting heads over it.”
Now I’m extra glad I didn’t go to the meeting. “Do they really not get along that much?”
“They’re like liquid hydrogen and fire.” His hand moves up to my knee. “Raphael can keep a level head under almost any condition, but as soon as Avery’s in the room, he combusts, and his anger only encourages Avery to keep pushing.”
I worry my bottom lip. “So they hate each other?”
“Oh, no. Quite the opposite. But Raph will have to deal.” Damien’s thumb on my chin pulls my lip out from between my teeth. “So, you’re nineteen, huh?”
I tense at the reminder. “Is that a deal breaker?”
“A year doesn’t change anything.” His thumb massages my thigh, and my pulse quickens. “You’re mine.”
“I didn’t lie on purpose.” My legs spread for him in invitation. “I don’t actually know what month it is.”
While I know exactly how many days Damien and I have been together, everything else remains fuzzy outside of the season.
He rumbles as his palm slides higher. “November.”
“So next month, I’ll be twenty.” Recalling what he said the last time I sat on his lap, I wiggle my ass over his growing bulge. “Do you have to go back downstairs tonight?”
He doesn’t even check his phone before he scoops me up to stride back to the bedroom.