Chapter 8
There was a scrape of chair legs against the floor as he scooted closer, and then, Gavin was filling the space beside her. She finally dared to glance up. His gaze burned—not with judgment, but with a steady, simmering anger she knew wasn’t aimed at her.
“Nothing about the way they treated you was your fault,” he said, voice low, fierce.
Her throat closed. “It felt like it. Every time they dragged me out, every time they hurt me, I thought maybe if I’d been stronger, or better, or more obedient, they wouldn’t have needed to—”
“Stop.” The single word carried command but also care. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched, yet his gaze softened when it met hers. “They are so twisted. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
Tears stung her eyes, blurring the food she no longer wanted. She turned away, but his hand came down gently on hers, grounding her. His palm was warm, solid, steadying.
“I don’t know how to be normal,” she admitted in a broken whisper. “I don’t know how to just eat and laugh and be like other people. I was never allowed to.”
“You’ll learn,” he said. “And you won’t have to do it alone.”
Her breath hitched. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words until they cracked something deep inside her.
Tentatively, she lifted her gaze again. The light over the table gleamed on his hair, caught the sharp line of his cheekbones, but it was his eyes that held her. The steady fire in them was like a promise, and a vow.
Her fingers curled instinctively against his. She should pull back. She should protect herself. But she didn’t want to. She wanted to believe.
She tightened her grip on his hand before she could lose her courage. Her voice came out low and uneven, but steady enough.
“Why?” she asked. “Why are you helping me? You could’ve sent me away, or locked me up, or…” she swallowed hard, “…handed me back to them. So why didn’t you?”
His thumb brushed lightly across her knuckles, a steadying motion she didn’t expect. He didn’t answer right away. His silence stretched until she thought maybe he wouldn’t.
When his gaze lifted to hers, the heat there made her breath catch.
“Because I couldn’t,” he said finally. His voice was gravelly, as if the words cost him something.
“Because the moment I saw you, and as I’ve come to realize what they’ve done to you, something in me knew I wasn’t going to let them touch you again. ”
Her heart stumbled. That sounded dangerously close to…caring. Still, she pressed on, needing more.
“But what do you really want from me?”
The question hung between them, heavier than anything she’d ever dared ask before. In her family, wanting anything had always been dangerous.
Gavin leaned closer, not letting her look away. “The truth? I don’t know yet. Part of me wants to use you to get to the other Rollins family members. You’re a link in a chain I’ve been hunting for a while.” He paused, jaw working. “But the bigger part of me just wants you to be safe. Whole. Free.”
Her throat tightened. She wanted to doubt him, wanted to guard herself, but the look in his eyes wouldn’t let her.
She whispered, “You sound like you mean that.”
“I do.” His words were low and intimate. “And that scares the hell out of me.”
Her chest ached, but not from fear. Something warmer flickered there, fragile but alive. She allowed herself to lean into it, just a little. She gave him a watery smile. “I’m scared too.”
“Good.” His lips curved, faint but real. “Then we’ll be scared together.”
The weight of the words lingered between them, but Gavin didn’t push further. Instead, he gave her hand a last, firm squeeze before gently letting go.
“Eat a little more,” he said quietly. “You need to rebuild your strength.”
She managed to clean her plate, more for his sake than her own.
Her appetite hadn’t come back fully, but the food settled warmly in her stomach.
Watching him work through his own small mountain of food helped.
It was oddly comforting, almost like sitting down with family.
Only better. And a whole hell of a lot safer, despite the fact that he could turn into a massive lion at will.
When they were done, Gavin rose and began gathering the containers. She tried to help, but he shook his head. “I’ve got it. You’ve done enough for today.”
“I barely did anything today except sleep and eat,” she murmured.
His golden gaze caught hers. “You trusted me. That’s more than enough.”
Her cheeks warmed, and she dropped her gaze to the table. He made quick work of clearing the dishes, his movements efficient but unhurried. The scent of barbeque still hung in the air, and the hum of the city beyond the balcony doors filled the silence between them.
Fatigue stole over her again, heavier this time. She yawned before she could stifle it, earning a small, amused huff from Gavin.
“Come on,” he said, his voice gentling as he crossed back to her side. “Bedtime for you, Goldie.”
She let him guide her toward the bedroom, her steps slow but steady. At the doorway, she hesitated, glancing back at him. “You’ll still be here tomorrow?”
His answer was immediate. “Yes.”
Something in her chest loosened at his reassurance.
She nodded, slipped into the room, and crawled beneath the soft blankets.
The last thing she heard as her eyes fluttered shut was the faint sound of Gavin moving in the living room, steady and watchful, a sentinel between her and the darkness.
She drifted to sleep, not in fear, but in fragile, growing hope.
An hour later, her eyes opened. The bedroom was warm and still, but sleep didn’t return. She lay curled under the blankets, staring at the ceiling as Gavin’s words from earlier echoed in her ears. “Not while I have anything to say about it.”
No one had ever promised her safety before. Her body still hummed with exhaustion, but her mind refused to settle. Finally, she rose, padded into the hall, and followed the faint sounds of Gavin’s low voice.
The office door stood open. Papers littered the desk, maps and notes spread in neat stacks, but Gavin wasn’t hunched over them now. He was on the phone, voice pitched in a low rumble that didn’t carry far.
She lingered in the doorway, watching him. His tone was calm, commanding. He gave instructions, asked pointed questions, dismissed reports that didn’t line up. Efficient. Controlled. Dangerous. Yet, when he finally hung up, she saw his shoulders sag for a moment, his hand dragging through his hair.
Something in her chest pulled tight. He carried the weight of so many lives on his shoulders. Not just hers. Yet somehow, he made her feel like she mattered.
“You should be in bed,” he said without turning.
She startled, realizing he’d scented her the moment she appeared.
“I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted softly. “My thoughts won’t stop racing.”
Finally, he faced her. His eyes glowed faintly gold, his dual nature very visible in his demeanor. “Come sit.”
She hesitated, then crossed the room and perched on the edge of the chair opposite his desk.
“Tell me,” he said simply.
She swallowed. “What if they come? What if I bring danger to you? To your Clan?”
“You already did,” Gavin said, blunt but not unkind. He leaned forward, forearms braced on the desk. “And we’re handling it. That’s what we do.”
His certainty should have been intimidating. Instead, it steadied her.
She looked down at her hands. “I don’t know how to be anything but afraid.”
“Then start with this,” he said, his voice softening. “Start with trusting me. Just a little. Trust me to know what to do and how much I can handle.”
Her gaze lifted to his, and the heat there stole her breath. It wasn’t just protective instinct anymore. It was hunger. Possessive, restrained, but unmistakable.
Her pulse fluttered. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can, Goldie.” His voice was rough with emotion. “One step at a time.”
The silence between them stretched, charged, until her breath came shallow. He didn’t move across the desk, didn’t reach for her. But she felt the pull all the same, magnetic and undeniable.
Marigold began to realize that she didn’t just want Gavin’s protection. She wanted Gavin. And wasn’t that a horrid thought?
She’d never really wanted any man. Never had time for attraction. Never dared think beyond her own small existence because she didn’t think she’d be allowed to live long enough to actually have a life, much less share it with a man.
She was amazed how quickly her circumstances had changed.
All it had required was for her to take that first step by running away.
Granted, she hadn’t had an opportunity to leave before the chaos of the demon-summoning debacle.
She felt almost proud of herself for recognizing the chance and being brave enough to take it when it presented itself.
The pride was fragile, a small spark in a lifetime of darkness, but she clung to it. Her voice trembled when she spoke, but she forced the words out anyway.
“I didn’t think I’d ever get away. I thought… I thought they’d drain me dry one day, and that would be the end of me. I thought the demon-summoning ceremony would be it for me. At that, they’d use me up, and I’d cease to exist.”
Gavin’s jaw tightened, but he stayed quiet, letting her finish. She wrapped her arms around herself, staring at the neat stacks of papers on his desk.
“I didn’t plan my escape. I wasn’t brave, not really. I just…saw an opening and ran. If my aunt had remembered to set the ward, I’d still be locked in that room.”
“You’re wrong,” Gavin said, his voice low but sharp with conviction.
Her head snapped up, startled.
He leaned closer, his hands braced on the desk as if anchoring himself. “You were brave enough to take the chance. A lot of people wouldn’t. They’d have stayed and died in that cage. But you didn’t. You got yourself out. That makes you stronger than you think, Goldie.”
Her throat closed, the words hitting deeper than she wanted to admit. No one had ever called her strong before. No one had ever looked at her like she was anything more than a tool.
She swallowed hard. “What if I can’t be what you need me to be? What if I’m too broken?”
Something flickered in his expression, a mix of heat and tenderness that left her unsteady. “Then you’ll be you. And that’ll be enough.”
Her breath caught, and for one dizzy moment, she thought he might come around the desk, might pull her into those strong arms. Part of her wanted it desperately. Part of her still trembled in fear of it.
But he didn’t move. He gave her space. Gave her control. And in that choice, he gave her something she hadn’t expected. He gave her hope.
She drew in a shaky breath and nodded. “One step at a time,” she whispered, echoing his words back to him.
His lips curved faintly, not quite a smile, but close. “That’s my girl.”
The warmth that bloomed in her chest at those words was both terrifying and wonderful. It lingered, fragile but steady, even as silence stretched between them again. She felt lighter somehow, as if his words had carved a tiny window in the darkness she’d lived with for so long.
A yawn slipped past her before she could stop it. Heat rushed to her cheeks, but Gavin only leaned back in his chair, his gaze assessing.
“You’re still exhausted,” he said gently, none of the blunt command she was used to from her family, just quiet certainty. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”
She stood, legs a little unsteady. He was already on his feet. He didn’t touch her, but he walked beside her down the hall, close enough that she felt his presence like a shield. At the bedroom door, she paused, turning to him.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For seeing me. For…believing me.” Her voice broke, but she held his gaze anyway.
Something fierce and protective flared in his expression, but he kept his tone low and even. “Sleep, Goldie. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
She nodded and slipped inside the room he had given her. As she curled back beneath the covers, she listened for the sound of his retreating steps. Instead, she heard him settle just outside the door, the faint creak of a chair as he sat down to stand watch.
She closed her eyes, not with dread, but with the startling certainty that someone was keeping the darkness at bay for her.