The moment I pulled Nine into my lap, my body reacted before my mind could fully catch up. He was so still, so small beneath my hands, and yet my instincts kicked in immediately. I felt the heat of his body, the breath heaved through his chest—shallow and uneven. There was a fragility in the way he lay there, in the way his body seemed to collapse inward, as if trying to disappear.
Nyx was restless within me. I could feel her pacing, her growls thick and primal, but I ignored them, focusing only on Nine. My hands gently cupped his face, his skin cool under my fingertips, but there was still warmth there—just enough to remind me he was still with me. Still alive.
His breath caught in his chest again, and I couldn't stop the trembling that started in my hands as I ran them through his hair, soothing the tension that lived in his bones. I wasn't sure if he could feel me yet, or if he even knew I was here. But I needed him to know.
"I'm here, Nine," I whispered, my voice breaking on his name. "I'm here. You're safe."
I didn't wait for a response. I didn't need one. Just the slight shift in his body, the soft, tentative pressure of his head burrowing closer to me, was enough to tell me he wasn't completely lost. He needed me. And I needed to be strong for him, for both of us.
I didn't know how long we sat there, my fingers tracing patterns over his hair, running down his neck, across his cheek, offering him what little comfort I could. But in the silence, I could feel the bond stretching between us, weak but alive. There was something in the way his chest hitched with every shallow breath he took, something in the way his fingers curled tighter into the fabric of my shirt as if anchoring himself.
He wasn't looking at me, but his hands—they were moving, pressing into my body like he couldn't get close enough, like he needed more. More of me.
The understanding came slowly. He wasn't just reacting to my touch, to the presence of my hands on his skin. He was reaching for something deeper. Something more.
I didn't realize what it was until it was too late. He wasn't just pressing closer to me because he needed comfort. He wasn't simply seeking warmth. He was... seeking my scent.
I felt it then—the subtle movement of his body against me, the way his face shifted just enough to press harder against my chest, burying himself deeper into me. His body was a little more rigid, more tense than it had been a moment ago, and I could feel the pulse of his need through the bond. But it wasn't pain, and it wasn't fear. It was an instinctual need—something desperate.
I knew it without words, without him having to say it. He needed me. Not just my presence. But something deeper. The scent of me. Something familiar. Something that grounded him.
I felt a pulse in my chest, a flutter of understanding that traveled through the bond like a flicker of light.
Nyx, too, was aware. She let out a low rumbling growl, something deep and guttural, but this time it was different. It wasn't just a call for violence. It was a call for protection. For connection.
And I answered it.
I didn't say anything at first. I let my hands move gently over Nine's body again, let him settle more fully into my lap, letting him bury himself in me. The more he did, the more his body relaxed into mine. The closer he pressed, the more his breathing evened out, just a little, until the tremors that had rattled him before began to settle. His fingers, which had been twitching against my shirt, gradually softened, his grip loosening, though still tight. Almost like he was afraid to let go.
I knew, deep down, that he needed this. He needed to feel me. To be reminded of me. Reminded that I was his.
I could feel the slow flicker of the bond between us, the connection that had grown since we first met, slowly solidifying as I sent him everything I had—every ounce of love, every drop of care, all of it flooding through the bond between us.
And still, he didn't speak. He just let his body relax further against me, his cheek resting against my chest. I could feel the warmth of his breath, the slight weight of his body, the faint rhythm of his pulse beneath my fingertips.
My hand moved instinctively, running down the curve of his spine, tracing the path of scars that marred his skin. I felt the tightness there, the tension still woven into the muscles of his back. He was still broken. Still fragile. But he was here. He was with me. And that was what mattered.
I wasn't sure if he even heard me when I spoke again, but I couldn't stop myself.
"I'm here, Nine," I said again, my voice firm, trying to ground him, trying to remind him. "You're not alone anymore."
There was no answer. But then, just as I thought he might slip back into that quiet space inside himself, I felt it. A subtle shift. A change.
His body, which had been slack against me, tightened just a little, his fingers curling once again, this time with more purpose. And then I felt the pressure of his face against me, the slight shift of his lips as he pressed his cheek harder into my chest, as if trying to burrow into me. To absorb me. To hold onto me.
It wasn't just about comfort. It was more. It was a need. A deep, primal need.
I felt the bond flare to life, and this time it wasn't me pushing it. It was Nine. He was reaching, pushing, grasping at the bond. And I let him take what he needed. I let him feel it—the bond between us, the connection that tied us together.
It was only then that I realized—the scent he was seeking, the closeness he was desperately pulling at—was mine. He needed it to ground himself. To remind him that he was still here. Still with me.
I hadn't realized what he was doing, what he was needing, until now.
And when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, broken but clear, almost like he was coming back from a long, dark place.
"Alpha…" His voice was raspy, and the word hit me like a wave. But it wasn't just the word. It was the way he said it. Like he was finally remembering. Finally recognizing me.
I couldn't hold back the flood of emotion that surged through me. My hand shook as I cupped his face, lifting it just enough so I could see his eyes.
"Always, Nine," I whispered, my voice thick with everything I had to give. "Always."
And in that moment, I realized—he wasn't just clinging to me for comfort. He wasn't just needing me for warmth.
He needed me to be his anchor. His Alpha. And I was never going to let him go