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She’s enough.
Dove doesn’t move, but she at least seems to be standing without help. I need to undress her, but it doesn’t seem right for me to do it when she can't agree to it.
I lift my gaze to hers and ask her, even though I know she won’t answer. “I need to get you out of these wet clothes before you freeze. I wish you could tell me yes or no, baby, but I promise I won’t do anything other than get you warm. You can trust me.”
Being wolves, our temperature runs higher than humans, but we are still susceptible to extreme cold and heat in this form.
I close my eyes, trying to center myself as I reach for the hem of her shirt. The material sticks to her skin, and it’s a fight to get it off, but I manage to peel it over her head. When she’s free of it, I toss it onto the tile floor, not allowing my eyes to linger anywhere but her face.
I watch for any signs of discomfort as I unhook her bra, letting it slide down her body. I force myself to be clinical, knowing it’s wrong for me to look at her when she is so vulnerable. If I ever get to spend any time with her intimately, it will be when she’s awake, aware, and a willing participant.
“Why were you in the lake? Did you not realize how cold the water would be?” I ask this as I continue to strip her of her clothes.
Am I being selfish by forcing her to live like this?
Would it be a kindness to end her life and give her the peace she deserves?
As soon as that thought enters my mind, I block it out. There is nothing that could force me to kill Dove, not even as an act of mercy. That makes me the biggest asshole, but I can’t. The thought of harming her in any way makes me want to burn the world to ashes.
I press my forehead to hers, suddenly needing to touch her. My fingers lay over her cheeks, holding her in place as I try to ground myself. “I don’t care what it takes; I’m going to figure out a way to make this right. I need you, Dove.”
The promise weighs heavily between us, but it is one I intend to keep. Her skin pebbles with goose bumps. She’s still cold, so I step back. This isn’t about me. She needs to be taken care of. I remove my clothes faster than I knew I could before I guide her into the shower.
She doesn’t react to the first blast of water against her skin, but I can’t stop the gasp of pain. It’s like a hundred needles pricking my skin.
I hold her under the water, ignoring how tight my chest feels, until the warmth starts to override the cold.
“Is that better?” I don’t know why I bother speaking when I know she won’t respond, but I do it anyway. It makes me feel less alone.
I turn her body into the spray, making sure to douse every part of her. There is dirt and debris from the lake on our skins, so I reach for the shower gel.
It’s a bad idea to touch her like this, but I can’t let her go to bed dirty, and I’m not letting her out of my sight, not even so Roux can shower her.
It’s selfish as fuck, but I don’t care. I’m shaken to my core by this, so I block out my guilt as I squirt some shampoo on her hair.
Gently, I tip her head back and massage it into her scalp. The way she feels awakens a dark need within me. I was protective before, but now? I’m never letting her go. She’s mine. Mine to protect. Mine to take care of. Mine to love.
The bands around my chest loosen the longer I touch her, and I take my time rinsing the soap from her hair before I quickly wash my own.
Once I’m satisfied we’re both clean and warm, I turn the shower off, grabbing a towel from the rail. I’m careful to cover every part of her I can with it before I grab a second, slinging it around my hips.
When we’re both dry, I quickly put on my joggers and dress her in fluffy pajamas and one of my sweaters before laying her down on the bed, piling blankets on top of her.
“You need to warm back up slowly so your body doesn’t go into shock,” I tell her. “This will help.”
Nothing. Maybe I imagined her talking to me before. Maybe the water was cold enough to give me hallucinations.
As I walk away, her fingers wrap around my wrist, and I almost have a heart attack. “Dove?”
Her eyes are staring ahead, focused on a spot on the ceiling, but there’s no mistake in the way she tugs me toward the bed. I don’t want to let my hope run riot, especially since she’s done this kind of thing before, but it surges within me anyway. Hope is the most dangerous of all emotions, yet I cling to it because, without it, I have nothing.
“What do you need?” I ask, still met with silence. I try to pull away, but her fingers don’t loosen. “You… You want me to stay with you?”
Her grip tightens slightly before loosening. I guess that was a confirmation. When I don’t move, she squeezes me again.
I blow out a breath and lift the blankets, watching her face carefully before I crawl in next to her.
For a moment, I don’t move or look her way. I can’t stand her being so close yet so far, so against my better judgment, I pull her to my chest.I wait to see if she squeezes me again or lets me know if she’s uncomfortable, but I hear her breathing steadily, like she’s content.
