TWELVE #2
“Just a nap?”
Fuck, he sets my soul on fire.
“Yeah, that’s not right. I should rephrase that.” I dip lower to kiss his neck, just above the collar of his shirt. “I had the hottest fuck, and then took a long, perfect nap, buried inside a gorgeous man I can’t stop touching,” I murmur on his skin, smiling when he shivers.
His cheeks are pink when he turns into my arms to face me, his eyes just glassy enough to make my body stir for him.
“That sounds like a really good nap,” he says with a soft, dreamy sigh that has me pressing my lips to his cheek to feel some of his warmth.
“It was,” I rasp, the words fed almost directly to him as he opens for me.
I dive into him, kissing him deep as his hands cup my neck and slip into my hair, every inch of his body fitting perfectly against mine.
He looks so content when he pulls back. He stays just like this, and my heartbeat stumbles as I take him in.
Happy. He looks happy.
“Sam?”
“Mm?”
“Would you like to go on a date with me?”
My pulse skyrockets as his eyes widen, and I don’t breathe, not while I wait for him. But it doesn’t matter. I’ve been waiting for him my entire life, and I’ll wait for him for as long as I have to.
I watch him swallow, and I do nothing to hide the way my hands are probably shaking on his waist.
But then he smiles at me, and I know for sure my hands are shaking on his waist. Because it’s a smile I’d do anything to see on his face for the rest of my days.
“I’d really like that,” he says softly, and fuck, I have—
I have to feel that smile.
It feels perfect against mine. Right where it belongs.
I carry his smile through long meetings, and numerous appointments. I carry it through the many hours of the day that keep me away from him, when all I want is to hurry and be done with everything.
I want to hurry and go to him. I have a date to think about.
A date with my mate.
What would that look like? God, I haven’t been on a date in over a decade. I barely remember what I’m supposed to do, and even if I did remember, I know it will be different with Sam. Everything is different with him.
My senses are filled with him all day, my mind drifting over to what he must be doing right now as Paul from finances drones on about figures and estimates.
It’s the reason I register the alarm two seconds too late.
It doesn’t blare, or shriek. That’s not what this type of alarm does. It’s a continuous string of noise, loud enough to draw the attention, but low enough so it doesn’t disrupt order while the security alert flashes across every monitor and mobile screen at once.
Intruder detected. Lockdown procedures in effect.
The message sinks in slowly, my mind rejecting the words even as my body snaps into action.
I’m out of my chair, and reaching the door of the conference room before any other person in this meeting has had a chance to stand up.
Every sound feels muffled, swallowed by the frantic heartbeat in my ears as I throw the door open.
And come face to face with one of the company’s personal security guards.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to get back inside. It’s protocol until we can identify the threat, and secure the area.”
A low growl fills my head as something ruthless churns in my gut. It begs to take over. It screams at me to run, to hunt, to tear apart anyone standing in our way.
Anything standing between me and my mate.
“Step aside.” The words are quiet, a clear command meant to be obeyed without question.
It’s obvious the guard in front of me is an alpha, his jaw clenching, his very nature rebelling against the command, but it’s no use. I’m not merely his boss in this moment. I’m the superior alpha giving him a direct order.
And nothing stands between an alpha and his mate.
His head jerks in a nod, moving aside, and I’m off.
I tear down the corridor that leads to the stairs, my gaze sweeping the offices I pass for any sign of disturbance. But my focus is only one.
Getting to Sam.
Conversations and uneasy murmurs float around me as all employees do what they’re supposed to; seek shelter in designated safe spaces, and remain there until told otherwise.
The scent of confusion and even fear is ripe in the air, and my stomach clenches viciously as the emergency exit door bangs loudly against the wall from the force I use.
Is my Sam scared?
Was he at his desk when the alarm sounded?
My throat tightens as I thunder up the stairs, one terrible question creeping through the crevices of my mind.
Is my mate safe?
Howls of rage and agony split my chest in half at the thought that something might have happened to him.
No one will touch him. I will die before I let anything happen to him.
But what if—
The thought chokes me before it’s even complete.
What if I’m too late again?
What if someone I care about is hurt again because of me? Because I couldn’t reach them in time? Because I didn’t protect them as I should have?
I push myself harder, eating up the flights of stairs like they’re nothing, my thighs burning, my lungs burning even worse, but I don’t give a fuck.
I will stop only when I get to him.
I will breathe only when he’s in my arms again, warm and safe.
The executive floor is mostly deserted when I reach it, quiet. It’s not until I’m almost outside my office that I realize Sam might not even be here.
His desk is empty when my gaze drops to it.
Which makes sense, I try to reason as I cover the distance to my office in two strides. He wouldn’t have just stayed out here in the open after the alert.
Fuck, I should have tried calling him first—
His scent hits me when I’m inside, sweet and perfect like always. But it reaches for me greedily, desperately. And it raises the hair on my nape.
I swivel around, looking for him, needing to see with my own eyes that he’s here. That he’s safe.
My heart stops when I find him—sitting on the couch, eyes wide, hands threaded together tightly.
“Devon?” His voice is so small, paper-thin. It cracks something inside me, something I’ve tried so hard to keep in one piece. But it shatters when I look at him, when I feel his fear as if it’s my own, because it is.
He makes a movement to get up but never gets the chance, because I’m already walking to him.
My body no longer feels like my own. It goes to him, to the only thing that matters.
And I let myself crumble, kneeling on the floor between his legs, my arms wrapping around him as my head rests on his lap.
I breathe him in, and my mind empties.
It’s so quiet. It’s always so quiet with him.
I feel nothing.
Not the way my pulse races like I never found him.
Not the way my body trembles draped over his.
Not the way my fingers dig into his back.
I feel nothing.