9. Lily
Lily
“You can’t run,” Damian snarls . “You think anyone here can protect you?”
My legs won’t move. He steps closer, his woodsmoke and salt scent overwhelming my senses.
“You’re mine,” he growls, fingers bruising my wrist as he yanks me forward. His lips curl into a sneer. “You thought you could leave?”
I jolt awake, sweat cooling on my skin as sunlight cuts across the bed. The phantom grip on my wrist feels so real that I have to rub the skin to remind myself I’m here.
Dread settles heavy in my stomach, but I force it down, staring at the ceiling while my heart steadies. Breathe in… breathe out. In… out.
As I manage to calm myself down, my mind wanders traitorously, body humming with memories of last night. Raphael’s strong hands feeling me in that dark corner. Dangerous, reckless… I loved it.
Then Leo’s protective growl that made heat pool between my thighs. Just thinking about it makes me instinctively press my legs together, seeking friction.
And Alaric. The thought of breaking his composure… to make him command me…
A shiver traces my spine.
God, what is wrong with me?
I press my palms against my eyes until stars burst behind them. I can’t spend all morning lost in fantasy.
Forward. One step at a time. I’m safe here.
“Besides, maybe it was just a coincidence,” I whisper to the empty room. A silly, naive hope, maybe. But if I let fear take over now, I’ll never function.
With a groan, I push myself up, sheets sliding against my skin.
Time to get ready for my session with Alaric.
***
The counseling room feels smaller today. I settle into my chair while Alaric takes his seat opposite me, that bourbon-rich scent of his making my pulse flutter despite my best efforts.
“How are you feeling today, Lily?” His voice carries that familiar steadiness, but something else lingers beneath.
I swallow hard. “Better,” I manage, aiming for lightness. “A little anxious, but not as terrified as before.”
He nods, making a note. My eyes catch on his hands. They’re strong and deliberate. I can’t help wondering what they’d do in a different context.
Alaric glances up, catching my stare. I quickly look away, warmth creeping up my neck.
“Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss today?” he asks, a small smile playing at his lips.
“Actually…” I set my jaw, forcing the words out. “I want to thank you, Alaric. Not for the counseling, but for yesterday. For being there. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
Something shifts in his posture, tension rippling beneath that careful control. “I’m glad,” he says, voice dropping lower. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, Lily.”
The way my name rolls off his tongue sends heat spiraling through me.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The air between us shifts, stretching just a little too long.
I wet my lips, thighs pressing together. I’m achingly aware of his scent, his presence, how safe he makes me feel.
Can he tell how he makes me feel? His expression is unreadable. But I feel the urge to push, to test his boundaries—
“Would you like some coffee?” he asks suddenly, cutting through my thoughts. “Sometimes it helps to talk.”
“Coffee sounds good.” My voice comes out husky.
He reaches for the tray, pouring with precise movements.
When he extends the cup, our fingers brush.
Electricity shoots through me, and the cup trembles slightly in my grip.
His touch lingers a heartbeat too long before pulling away, and that protective fire I saw yesterday flickers in his beautiful green eyes, along with something darker.
“Careful,” he murmurs, his bourbon scent deepening. “It’s hot.”
I take a sip to steady myself, but the coffee burns my tongue. I set it down too quickly, splashing drops onto my skirt. “Oh—”
Alaric reaches for a tissue. “Here, let me—” He stops himself mid-motion, hand suspended between us. The air is suddenly thick with tension and his scent spikes with something primal—
Then he exhales, looking away for a beat before meeting my gaze. His fingers drag through his dark brown hair, as if searching for the right words.
“Lily,” he starts, voice rough. “Yesterday, when you were afraid… I meant what I said. About keeping you safe.”
“I know.” I swallow a sigh behind another sip of coffee. “You and Leo both.”
He stands and looks away. When he speaks again, his voice is carefully controlled. “We should focus on developing your coping strategies. In case something like yesterday happens again.”
“Alaric,” I say softly, setting down my cup. “Look at me.”
He turns back, and his gaze drops to my lips for just a moment. His hands flex at his sides like he’s physically restraining himself from reaching out.
“We should schedule that for your next session,” he says, voice rough with restraint. “Perhaps… perhaps with someone else.”
The words hit like a slap. “You’re referring me to someone else?”
He closes his eyes briefly. When they open, that raw edge is still there beneath his control. His bourbon scent takes on a sharp edge. “I think it’s for the best, Lily. I got too involved yesterday. You’re vulnerable right now. I won’t take advantage of that.”
I stand abruptly, hurt and anger tangling in my chest. “Isn’t that your job? To get involved?”
“There are different kinds of involvement.” His voice stays gentle but firm. “I can still be here for you, Lily. I want to be here for you. But not as your counselor.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice cracks.
“It means I can’t be objective anymore. Not how a counselor needs to be.” His green eyes burn into mine. “You deserve someone who can give you proper guidance right now.”
My throat tightens. “You think I can just… what? Start over with someone else? Tell them everything again?” The thought makes me sick. “You know what happened to me. You know why I’m here. I can’t—I can’t do that again.”
“Lily—”
“No, you don’t understand.” My hands shake. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to trust you?” Tears sting my eye. “And now you want me to do it all over with a stranger?”
Alaric takes a step toward me, then catches himself. “I understand it’s difficult—”
“Difficult?” I laugh bitterly. “Try terrifying. Try impossible.”
His eyes darken. “Lily—”
“No.” I move to the door, then pause with my hand on the handle. “You know what? You’re right. Professional boundaries are important.” I turn just enough to see his face. “Screw counseling. I’m done.”