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“He’s never been a social person, but he was distant and distracted. He claims he’s taking a break from the mission for a bit. I want to keep in close contact until I get to the bottom of this. He saved me in so many ways, so if he needs me, I want to be there for him.” He slips his arm around my waist.
“I would love to meet him,” I say.
“Maybe,” he says softly.
“I’m glad he was there for you when you needed him. I’m so lucky that I have you.”
“It helps to be mated. You don’t crave other blood as much.”
“Do you know where Micah is?”
“He was vague, but if I needed to find him, I could. I need to tell Ryker too. They formed a good relationship too.”
“Did he have a family?” I ask, stepping in front of him.
“He didn’t like to talk about it. Like the rest of us, some memories were too painful to disclose. He was funny.” Bash grins. “He looked like a big, burly biker but was soft on the inside. He cared about everyone. He was a champion of women and kids. It’s not a surprise that he started the work he did. He wanted to make the world a better place, whereas I felt like it was useless to try. He changed me in subtle ways. He helped me see the good, in some ways.”
“I want to meet him. He loved you,” I say, laying my head on his chest and wrapping my arms around him.
“He did. I love him, too. It’s weird, but I thought of him as a father figure. Ryker felt more like a brother, and Micah was like a father. He’s not much older than me, but he had that quality. I was sad when he left us. I never told him that I loved him. I was taught that feeling like that was weak; it’s a hard habit to break.”
“It’s not too late to tell him,” I say quietly.
“Yeah,” he says.
We stand in silence, holding on to each other. The universe knew what they were doing when they paired us together, and our lives collided. Bash needed me in so many ways. He’s been alone for so long, used to shutting everyone out.
I need his calming presence. Yet, he pushes me to find and embrace my passions. I desperately love him and want to tell him while I’m alive and well.
“Bash?”
“Mmm.”
“I want you to tie me up,” I say hurriedly.
He pushes me away, his hands on my shoulders, and looks at me seriously. “Say that again.”
“I need you to erase the bad memories of his bed with yours.” I nibble on my lip.
He stares at me, his eyes never leaving mine. “You are willing to give over your control to me. To tie you with rope to the bed,” he says slowly.
“Yes,” I say.
“Are you sure?” He frowns.
“I trust you, and I don’t want to be afraid.” I fidget with his shirt.
“I will stop whenever you want. I don’t want to scare you.”
“Bash, I love you, and I trust you,” I admit.
The intensity in his face increases at my confession. He stares a beat more before peeling my hands from his shirt, taking them in his, and backing towards the bed, pulling me with him.
“Is the bed alright? We can try somewhere else and work our way to the bed.”
He’s so sweet to worry, but I want to go all in. “The bed is fine.” I smile slightly.
He turns me, so my back faces the end of the bed and urges me to sit. He drops to his knees, cupping my calf, and pulls my socks off. His thumb grazes over the top of my foot, a loving gesture. Running his hands up my legs, he cups my hips, encouraging me to stand. My button and zipper are easily undone, and he slowly pulls down my pants.
