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Thane swallowed and tried to read the situation. The woman he loved, the woman it felt like he’d been waiting forever to see, was different. Understandably, he thought, but didn’t stop his heart aching. She still hadn’t taken his hand. “It's okay if you don't want to talk, Con. We went through a lot yesterday. I got shot, but you…you got the sharper edge of the sword. I just…I want to be here for you. You're mine, sugar, and that means we go through this together.”
He murmured to her, leaving his hand dangling off the edge of the bed. He wasn’t aware of how much time passed or what his tired brain encouraged his mouth to say, but he was on the verge of sleep when the first tentative touch roused him—just a brush of skin against his palm, a fingertip maybe. He heard a soft sniffle, then that brush of skin became a caress, evolving into her hand clutching his.
“That's my good girl.” He winced when she squeezed, holding on tight, and the nerves in his battered hand flared to life, but he wasn't about to complain. “I know you're scared, Con. I asked you for blind trust yesterday, and you gave it to me. I failed you. I didn't protect you, and that asshole did a heinous thing.”
Her fingers pushed through his, curled so they locked together. He felt wetness on the back of his hand, the heat of her skin and the raised flesh of her swollen cheek. She was crying. Jesus, he didn't know whether to signal for backup or pray the tears weren't the start of something he couldn't fix.
“I've had black eyes like that,” he told her quietly. “They hurt like a mother, don't they? The swelling makes everything tight, a dozen pulse points randomly pop up and turn your face into a throbbing mess. Blurred vision, concussion. I can help make it stop, Connie. Just ask, and we can stop the pain. We can have a few hours of peace together.”
His hand jostled, then the link was broken. Thane sensed movement beside him and opened his eyes a fraction, just enough to watch Connie use the bed as a guide, her body stiff and unyielding as she moved.
She crawled onto the bed, all but burying herself against him.
Thane’s eyes crossed as his shoulder screamed, but the pain was inconsequential compared to the absolute blind trust she gave him yet again. He didn't deserve it, not after yesterday, but rejecting that trust would achieve nothing but alienating her at a time when she needed someone desperately. Adjusting his wounded arm so it lay comfortably over her shaking body, he held her. “I’ve got you, sugar.”
They lay there for what seemed like an age, Connie sucking up his body heat like a starving woman. Thane felt pretty useless, unable to get up for a blanket or six, but salvation came in the form of a small blonde sneaking into the room.
Anarchy paused, her mouth dropping open when she saw Connie on the bed with him. She performed a nifty little happy dance, silently jogging on the spot, pumping her fists in the air. Adorable, but then Thane was discovering that Jasper's kitten was the epitome of the word.
He lifted his right hand and rested it on Connie's head, stroking her hair to keep her calm. In a low voice, he said to Anarchy, “I need some blankets, Archie.”
“I’ll find some. Do you need anything else?” she asked quietly.
Thane shook his head, knowing Connie was listening to them. She was no longer relaxed against his side, tension filtering through her muscles. One wrong move and he'd lose all these precious moments. “No, thanks.”
Archie tilted her head and smiled at him. “If you don't mind me saying, sir, you look really comfy in that bed. Comfy as in…you should stay there,” Archie said diplomatically. “She’s been really quiet,” she told him in a low undertone, her smile dimming. “Maybe you can make her feel better.”
“I'm planning on it, sweetheart. Go on, now.”
She slipped back out as unobtrusively as she'd come in.
“Do you know what the worst thing about being Dominant is, Connie? Conceding control. We're programmed to have our finger on the pulse all the time. We command, we dictate, we fashion our world to a set of rules that keeps everything in order, with us at the helm.” He feathered his fingers over the stark purple hump of Connie's cheekbone. “Then something like this comes along and reminds us that every so often there's something we're not equipped to deal with. It's out of our control, beyond our realm of expertise. So, we have to put our perfectly controlled universe in someone else's hands for a little while.”
She shook her head miserably.
“Yeah, we do. This is one of those times where being submissive beneath the Dominant comes in really handy. We're not fighting to maintain control of something spiraling into chaos; we're giving it to someone who knows how to fix it.” He hated feeling the tremors running riot through her muscles. “I want to go home, sugar, and I want you by my side when I do.”
God, he was tired. Judging by the escalating pain beginning to gnaw on his nerves, he was due his meds at any time. Hopefully, some kind soul would bring him some, unless Nurse Dina decided he deserved to suffer for a while. He wouldn't put it past the sneaky woman; she was ten kinds of steel beneath her prim and proper uniform.
He could barely keep his eyes open by the time Anarchy returned with blankets stacked in the crook of her arm. She carried them to the bed, then began unfolding and spreading them over the bed. She looked far too pleased with herself, he thought.
The warmth was instantaneous, making it harder to fight sleep. Archie tucked the last blanket firmly around them, then leaned down to whisper, “Atticus gave orders for everyone to stay away for a while, so no one will disturb you. Get some rest, both of you.”
“Thanks, sweetheart, you did good.”
“Good luck.” With a last tweak on the corner of a blanket, she exited the room, leaving them in comfortable silence.
Thane counted off the seconds as Connie snuggled deeper into him. Her breathing was slow, steady, much like his own. Which probably meant that, like him, she was hovering on the precipice of sleep. Hovering? No, more like tumbling. His body had hit its peak and was begging for an hour of respite.
He promised himself he would rest as soon as Connie did. A few more minutes wouldn’t kill him, would they? He stroked her back absently, listening to her gentle inhales and exhales, being lulled by them.
For a little while, he believed everything would work out okay.
***
Chapter Seventeen
Thane was warm and real, his body her personal teddy bear.
