“You are the most beautiful cat in the world, baby,” he says, framing my feline head in his big human hands.
I lock gazes with him and give him a soft growl, one that has his brows raising as he studies me.
“Everything is okay now, my little bird. You’re safe and I won’t ever let anyone hurt you ever again. Come back to me now.”
Giving him one last lick, my cat retreats and I find myself sitting in his lap, cradled against his solid chest.
“There’s my bird,” he says, stroking a hand over my hair.
I take in his presence, soaking up every inch of him into memory. The thrumming in my head eases and I fight the tears threatening to fall.
“Haught,” I say shakily.
“Shhh,” he soothes, his warm, gentle palm cups my face and I can’t hold back any more.
“I...afraid...never see you,” I say between sobs and his strong, capable arms pull me into his healing embrace. Every thought and feeling, every emotion of the last several days, washes over me and I let myself absorb the comfort he gives me.
“It’s alright, little bird. I’m here with you.” Moving us to the bed, he holds me close and murmurs gentle, reassuring words and promises while I let out everything bottled up inside. His strong, muscular frame cradles mine for as long as it takes me to become calm.
“How long was I asleep?”
“About twenty hours.”
“I...had a nightmare,” I pause to trace the beautiful snowflake tattoos on his muscular upper arm and shoulder. “I dreamt that you were attacked and you were hurt and I...” I tell him but stop when tears steal my voice, burying my face against his broad chest.
“Shhh,” he soothes me, “It was just a dream. I’m fine.”
“I can smell his blood,” I whisper.
“He won’t ever hurt you again,” he vows, sending a shiver down my spine. “Look at me,” he says and I slowly raise my head. His lips lightly trace the bruises on my face. I can feel rage building within him as his eyes skim my battered body. “Baby, I gotta know...did he...God,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Did he rape you?”
“I don’t think so,” I lower my eyes and whisper. There’s so much I can’t remember, and even more I never want to know. What if Haught doesn’t look at me the same anymore? “I got a lot of the cuts and bruises when I was shifted, before he put that collar on me. The other one gave me a shot after Henri-,”
“Don’t say his name,” Haught growls, “I don’t want to hear that bastard’s name from your lips.”
I nod, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
“After he put the collar on me. I don’t remember much after that until you came into the room. I’m not...I’m not sore, you know, down there, so I don’t think anything happened.”
“Thank God,” he breathes, crushing me to him.
Unable to stop myself, I wince from the force of his hold against my bruised frame, causing him to immediately ease his hold.
“I’m sorry,” he says, kissing my brow.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, tugging on the hem of the shirt I’m wearing. It falls at mid-thigh and my stomach turns when I see the bruises and scratches that cover my legs and arms. My hand trembles and more tears form as I reach out to touch them. Some of them are clearly finger marks from where I was grabbed and jerked around. I can’t remember everything that happened, and I’ve never been more thankful to have been drugged most of the time.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” With unexpected swiftness he lifts me from the bed and walks us into the bathroom, sitting me on the countertop as he readies the shower.
He begins to take off my shirt, but I stop him. “No, I’ll do it myself.” I start to get off the counter but he holds me in place. “Let me down,” I try and push him out of the way.
“You’re not going to shut me out.”
“I’m not.”
“Bullshit. Talk to me, little bird. I love you,” his voice breaks at the end, and I hate being the one to do that to him.
“I don’t want you to see me,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around my body in embarrassment.
“I can understand that, but whatever happened to you won’t scare me away. Nothing I see will be worse than how it felt when I thought I lost you forever. I was lost to the rage of my animal and barely held on to my sanity. Laying eyes on you is what saved me,” he confesses, face full of pain and devastation. And love.
“You can’t be sure of that,” I argue weakly.
“I am. You were on that bed, bound and battered, but the only thing I saw, my leopard saw, was our mate, the other half of our existence.” His gorgeous blue eyes stare into mine - I can say nothing in reply - and he slowly moves my arms from around my waist.
“Haught.”
“Trust me. Let me take care of you.”
I breathe in his scent, letting it and the love I feel pouring from him fill me with the confidence and reassurance only he can give. Slowly, I raise my arms so that he can remove my top. My body throbs with every move I make, but the love I see in his eyes is what takes my breath away.
Haught removes his clothes and lifts me gently from the counter, my legs automatically wrapping around his hips. Soft kisses are peppered along my chest and up my neck, each covering the bruises there with his healing touch. This man is my saving grace.
I’m carried into the shower where my mate takes his time in washing away the bad feelings and filth from my body. His strong, capable hands soothe my aches
