Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Sofia
Dakvaar was hiding something.
I’m not sure how I knew it, but I did.
But to be fair, I was hiding shit too—like the whole fucking Anthony thing—so I guess fair’s fair.
Dakvaar had stood in the doorway this morning and asked me to tell him the truth, and I’d deflected.
I hadn’t wanted to explain the shame, the fear, the pain…
hadn’t wanted to see this beautiful male get all rage-filled again.
On my behalf.
Today was our eighth day in his home, my eighth day of not working, of being able to rest and recover with my daughter. Rosa was already recognizing letters and sounding out simple words, just because she’d had so much attention from two adults this week.
She was happy and healthy and thriving, because Dakvaar had given her something I hadn’t been able to: safety. Safety to be a kid, to learn, to play whenever she wanted to. With all the practical gifts he’d given us, that was the most precious of all.
And this house felt more like home now.
Which is why I just knew it was going to be ripped away from us sooner rather than later.
But for now…
Friday was spent much like the previous days, with Rosa making up elaborate scenarios for her new dragon best friend, and me playing in the snow with her in my new boots, and making healthy foods from scratch—a luxury I didn’t often have.
And when Dakvaar came home from the ice rink, he watched me intently with that weird green glow in his eyes, as if there was something he was desperate to tell me, but couldn’t.
Finally, as we stood together in the kitchen, washing dishes, I blurted, “What? What are you thinking about?”
I saw him blink, saw him look away, and knew he wasn’t going to tell me the truth. Just like I hadn’t told him the truth.
“We have an away game Sunday evening. It’s against the Amber Avengers in Denver, so we’re going to just head out on the team bus in the morning, and get back that night.”
I was already nodding. “Okay, that’s no big deal. I can just—”
“You’re coming with us.” He didn’t look up from the pan he was methodically scrubbing. “I already cleared it with Lila and Coach. You and Rosa are going to ride on the bus with us, and can stay with Lila in the owner’s suite during the game. You’ll be safe there.”
Surely that pan was clean by now? “Dakvaar, you don’t have to—”
He began to scrub the handle. “I won’t be more than 400 feet from you two. You’ll be safe.”
I sighed, a little frustrated. “We’ll be safe here if—”
The pan clattered in the sink as he swung around, the look in his eyes almost…pleading. “I can’t let you out of my protection, Sofia. I have to know.”
Oh.
I clutched the drying towel in front of me, wringing it between my two hands. Oh.
Suddenly I understood; he wasn’t doing this for me—or rather, just for me and my daughter. There was something going on here I didn’t understand, something that meant Dakvaar was, on some level, doing it for himself.
When he said he couldn’t allow us away from his protection, he meant he couldn’t do it.
And I couldn’t deny that I didn’t want to be.
I remembered that day in the street, the surprise and fear of running into another solid mass of male, only to realize it was Dakvaar, and the relief I’d felt then.
Who did this to you?
He’d placed himself between me and danger.
And this male, who never showed emotion, had flung out his claws, thrown his head back, and roared at Anthony.
He’d struck my ex-husband, knocking him down in a way I’d never seen anyone do to Anthony before, and in that moment, my relief had been so great my knees had gone weak.
Dakvaar would protect us. Not just from Anthony, but from all the bad parts of life.
Just look at how my daughter had thrived this week!
So I slowly nodded, having to swallow twice to get my voice to work semi-normally. “Rosa…Rosa will have fun on the bus, I think.”
It wasn’t until he exhaled and his shoulders slumped that I realized he’d been holding his breath, wondering what I would say. Well, I’m glad I said the right thing, judging by the softening around his eyes.
When he reached for the pan in the sink once more, I found myself watching his hands.
His touch was so gentle, so domestic. Doing dishes, turning the pages of a hardback classic… When he took my wrist, stroking the skin to make sure the bruises were healing. When he brushed Rosa’s hair, his claws extending just enough to deal with the tangles…
What would it feel like to have those hands on me? To have him stroke my skin in more intimate ways? To put that ridged tongue to good use?
I shuddered and squeezed my thighs together to hide the sudden burst of heat between them. I saw Dakvaar’s movements freeze, saw his nostrils flare, and remembered what he’d said about his sense of smell.
I fled the kitchen.
And later, after I’d crawled into bed beside my daughter, I flopped back against the pillows with a frustrated sigh. A sexually frustrated sigh.
When I’d come to Dakvaar’s house, I’d been sick and injured.
He probably thought of me as a burden, just someone he had to protect.
I shouldn’t be lusting after him. I shouldn’t be considering going to have another shower, just because the showerhead had some epic vibrating settings I could make very good use of.
I shouldn’t be considering masturbating while thinking about my friend, who’d been nothing but kind—
Remember his hard on?
Oh.
Right.
With a quiet groan, I sat up in bed again, squeezing my eyes shut, even as my mouth flooded with saliva and my pussy flooded with arousal.
The memory of Dakvaar’s sweatpants bulging like that told me that he was big all over, and I wondered what his cock would look like. What it would feel like.
I owed him. I owed him so much. Maybe a little fucking would a) wipe the slate clean and b) scratch this itch I couldn’t seem to get rid of.
Maybe you ought to go masturbate in the shower.
Right.
That was probably safer, when it came to my heart.
I pushed myself to my feet and reached for the hem of my t-shirt, yanking it over my head. I emerged just in time to hear Dakvaar’s soft tread in the hallway. I held my breath as he halted outside the door, frozen in the act of removing my shirt.
He just stood there, outside my closed door, and I knew he was listening.
Listening to me.
He’d done it every night I’d slept here, even after he quit keeping guard outside my door. He stopped by my room to check on me—on us—before going to bed himself, the same way he checked that all the doors and windows were locked.
He was protecting us.
When he finally moved on, surprisingly silent for such a big guy, I felt myself exhale. He was protecting us, caring for us, providing for us…
And I could repay him.
When I stripped out of my PJ pants and reached for the oversized robe, I wasn’t thinking about the showerhead anymore.
Still, standing outside the door to his room, my hand lifted to knock…I hesitated. Then I hesitated a bit more, shifting my weight, the floorboards cold beneath my feet.
If I just barged in there, what would he think of me? Would he mind how horny I was, just thinking of his strength and kindness and—
The door burst open, yanked inward as Dakvaar blurted, “What’s wro—”
He froze when he saw my hand, still raised to knock, and his gaze slowly slid down my body. I knew the robe was too big and gaped in the front, revealing my cleavage. I knew it made me look small, which wasn’t a way I usually thought of myself.
Dakvaar’s dark eyes burned as they raked over me, his massive chest rising and falling with each controlled breath. The dim hallway light caught the ridges of his bare torso, the way his muscles shifted beneath his green skin as he stood there, frozen.
His boxers hung low on his hips, the fabric straining against the thick outline of his cock—long, heavy, the ridges visible even through the cotton. A tattoo coiled up his left arm, black ink swirling in intricate patterns that seemed familiar somehow.
His claws flexed against the doorframe, the only sign of how hard he was fighting to stay still.
I let my gaze linger on the bulge between his legs, my pulse kicking up. ?Ay Dios, he was huge.
His tongue flicked out, ridged and broad, dragging against the sharp edge of his tusk before he rasped, “What are you doing here, Sofia?”
The sound of my name in that rough, gravelly voice sent a shiver down my spine. I lifted my chin, meeting his glare with one of my own. “I’m checking on you for a change.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m fine.”
“Yes…” I let my eyes trail over him again, slower this time, taking in the way his abs flexed, the way his cock twitched beneath the fabric. “You most certainly are.”
His grip on the doorframe turned white-knuckled. I could see the battle in his eyes—the hunger, the restraint.
The need.
So I made the decision for him.
I surged forward, throwing myself against him. His chest was solid, unyielding, the heat of his skin searing through the thin fabric of my robe as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my mouth to his.
The moment our lips met, everything changed.
His tusks scraped my cheeks as his mouth claimed mine, his tongue sweeping in—wide, ridged, hot—filling me in a way no human’s ever had. I moaned into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as he growled, deep and guttural. The sound vibrated through me, straight to my core.
His hands landed on my waist, then slid up my back and down my sides, his claws scraping lightly through the robe before he shoved the fabric aside, his calloused palms branding my bare skin.
I gasped as his hands mapped me—my ribs, my spine, the dip of my waist—before dragging me flush against him.
The robe gaped open, my breasts pressing against his chest, my nipples tightening at the contact.
His skin was rougher than a human’s, the ridges of his torso catching on my sensitive flesh as he kissed me like he was starving.