Chapter 18 #2
Caleb appeared at dinner. He didn't speak, just stood in the doorway, his massive frame filling the space, his ice-blue eyes taking in my deteriorated state, his jaw clenched tight with barely contained emotion.
Through the bond, I felt his anguish. His desperate need to come to me, to gather me in his arms, to make it stop.
But he held himself back, respecting the boundary of the nest, waiting.
"I can carry you to the table. If you can't walk," Caleb offered, his deep voice rough with restrained emotion, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles white with tension.
"I'm not eating," I whispered, my voice barely audible, each word an effort.
"You have to eat," Caleb insisted, his ice-blue eyes boring into mine, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"I'll throw up," I repeated, closing my eyes against the spinning room.
"Then you throw up. But you eat first," Caleb said, his jaw tightening, a muscle jumping beneath his scarred skin, his whole body rigid with the effort of holding himself back.
"Please. Please just leave me alone," I begged, and the words came out broken, desperate, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
Silence. Through the bond, I felt the war inside him, the need to obey Mason's rules about the nest versus the need to take care of me, to fix this, to make me stop hurting myself.
His hands opened and closed at his sides, fighting the urge to cross the room.
"Mason. She's worse," Caleb called over his shoulder, his deep voice carrying down the hallway, his eyes never leaving my curled form. Footsteps in the hallway. Mason appeared behind Caleb, his golden hair catching the light from the hall, his honey-brown eyes widening as they found me in my nest.
"Oh, sweetheart. Why are you doing this to yourself?" Mason breathed, genuine distress in his voice, his handsome face creasing with concern as he took in my shaking form.
"Because I hate you," I said, but the words had no force behind them anymore, just exhaustion, just defeat, just the hollow echo of a fight I was losing.
Mason studied me for a long moment, his honey-brown eyes full of something that looked almost like sorrow, his brow furrowed with worry.
Then he squared his shoulders, his expression settling into determination, and stepped past Caleb into the room.
"I'm coming into the nest. I'm asking permission, like I promised. Can I come in, Ava?" Mason announced, his voice gentle but firm, brooking no argument even as he made it a request.
I should have said no. Should have held onto my pride, my defiance, my tiny shred of autonomy. But my body was screaming for relief, and my mind was too foggy with pain to maintain the battle.
"Fine. Just—make it stop," I whispered, the word tearing out of me like a surrender, my eyes squeezing shut.
Mason crossed the room in three quick strides and climbed into the nest with careful movements, settling himself against the headboard, his legs stretched out beside me.
Then, with gentle hands, he gathered me into his arms.
The relief was immediate. Like a switch had been flipped, like a valve had been released—the pain just stopped. The headache faded to a dull background noise. The nausea settled. The tremors eased, my muscles finally unclenching.
"There. There you go. That's better, isn't it?" Mason murmured, pulling me closer against his chest, his warmth seeping into my frozen bones, his scent—honey and sunlight—wrapping around me like a blanket, his hand rubbing soothing circles on my back.
I wanted to deny it. I wanted to push him away, to reclaim my dignity, to prove that I was stronger than the bonds. But my body had other ideas.
I melted into him. Actually melted, my rigid muscles going soft, my clenched fists relaxing, my whole body curling into his warmth like a plant seeking sunlight. A sound escaped my throat—something between a sigh and a sob, and I pressed my face into his chest, breathing him in.
"I hate this. I hate that it works," I whispered against his shirt, my voice muffled by the fabric, my fingers curling into the soft material.
"I know. I know you do," Mason replied softly, his hand stroking my hair, his touch gentle and soothing, his chest vibrating with each word. "But fighting the bonds only hurts you, sweetheart. They're not going to break. They're not going to fade. All you can do is accept them."
"I don't want to accept them," I mumbled, my eyelids growing heavy, exhaustion pulling me under now that the pain had receded, my words starting to slur together.
"You don't have to want it. You just have to stop fighting it. Let us take care of you. Let us love you," Mason acknowledged, his arms tightening around me, his chin resting on top of my head, his embrace warm and secure.
"You don't love me. You just love owning me," I mumbled, my consciousness fading at the edges, sleep dragging me down.
"We love you. We've loved you for a long time.
We love your fire, your stubbornness, your refusal to give up even when you've clearly lost. We love every part of you, Ava.
Even the parts that hate us," Mason corrected gently, his voice firm with conviction, his hand still stroking through my hair in steady, rhythmic motions.
I didn't have the energy to argue. Didn't have the strength to push him away. I just lay there, curled against the chest of one of the men who had destroyed my life, and let him hold me. Through the bond, I felt his contentment. His love. His bone-deep satisfaction at finally having me in his arms.
I also felt the others, Caleb's relief washing over me like a wave, Leo's quiet joy humming through the connection, Ethan's clinical satisfaction that his prediction had proven correct.
They'd won this round. My body had betrayed me, had forced me to accept their touch, had proven that I couldn't survive without them.
As I drifted toward sleep, held in Mason's arms, I made a silent vow.
This wasn't over. This was just a battle, not the war.
I would find a way to beat them. Find a way to break the bonds, or escape, or—something.
I couldn't live like this forever, dependent on men I hated, addicted to touches that violated everything I believed in.
There had to be a way out.
I just had to find it. But for now—just for now—I let myself rest. Let myself take what my body needed, even as my mind raged against it.
"Sleep. I've got you," Mason murmured, his voice soft in the darkness, his arms secure around me, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
I slept…but I dreamed of running.