NOAH
The world was a blur of steam and the scent of Cassian’s expensive soap until I stepped out of the bathroom. Then, suddenly, the world was just him.
...
Cassian was still leaning close, his face only inches from mine. At this distance, the carefully maintained mask of the Wolfe empire was gone.
I could see every jagged detail of the price he’d paid to get back. There was a dark, purplish bruise blooming along the line of his jaw and a sharp, angry cut bisecting his cheekbone. He was barely recovering from the accident and yet he got fresh injuries to be worried about because of .
His eyes, usually so cold and piercing, were underlined with heavy, dark circles. But it was the expression in them that made my breath hitch, a raw, aching guilt that seed to weigh more than the bandages wrapped around his torso.
My heart was no longer just beating; it was a frantic creature trapped in my chest, pounding against my ribs so hard I was certain he could hear it. I felt lightheaded, the air in the room suddenly too thin to breathe.
"I’m the one who should be sorry," he had said.
The words sank into , heavy and slow. A real apology. He wasn’t deflecting or blaming the "circumstances" or my own naivety.
He was standing there, a man who rarely bowed to anyone, taking the full weight of the night on his own scarred shoulders.
"No," I said, my voice surprisingly firm despite the way my knees felt like water. I forced myself to et his eyes, to look past the intimidation of his stature.
"I should be the one apologizing. I was blind to Alex’s true nature. I should have seen it. There must have been signs... things I chose to ignore because I wanted to believe he was different."
I felt the familiar, cold crawl of self-loathing. I had walked right into the trap. I had let myself be chard by a monster while the man who actually protected was pushed away.
Cassian shook his head, his brow furrowing in a look that was almost a scold, yet remained impossibly gentle.
"Have a bit of pride, Noah," he murmured. He reached up, the towel still draped over my head, and began to move it in slow, soothing circles. "You were trying to escape a cruel boss who gave you hell."
He gave a long, aningful look, one that acknowledged his own role in my misery over the past weeks.
"Of course you’d trust soone who seed kinder," he continued. "That isn’t a flaw in your character. It was a failure in mine for giving you a reason to run."
I blinked, the words echoing in the quiet room. Wait. He’s right.
The realization hit like a physical shock. I hadn’t been stupid; I had been desperate. And Alex had slled that desperation like a shark slls blood.
Seeing it through Cassian’s eyes... seeing the logic instead of the sha... felt like a weight being lifted off my lungs.
Cassian let out a low, rumbling chuckle. It was a fond sound, deep and resonant, and it sent a fresh shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold.
He went back to drying my hair, his hands steady and rhythmic, a silent promise of stability.
My heart was truly about to give out. The closeness, the sll of him, the way his large hands were being so incredibly careful with ... it was too much.
It was an sensory overload that made want to lean into him until there was no space left between us. I wanted more of this. I wanted this version of him to be the only one I ever saw.
And then, the mory flickered.
Last night. The darkness. Surfacing from the drug-induced haze and feeling arms wrapped around . A solid chest against my back. A chin resting on my head. I rembered the feeling of being cherished, of being held as if I were the only thing in the world that mattered.
Was that real? I wondered, my eyes fixed on the buttons of his shirt. Or was it just the drugs playing tricks on my mind?
The doubt was a sharp, biting thing. Cassian Wolfe didn’t hold people tenderly. He didn’t stay awake to cradle a drugged assistant. It had to be a hallucination, a beautiful lie my brain told to keep from shattering.
But my chest ached with the need for it to be true. I felt tainted... foreign in my own skin.
Even after the shower, I could still feel the phantom sensation of Alex’s hands, the way he’d looked at , the cold glass of the bottle against my lips. I felt like a house that had been broken into; the intruder was gone, but the doors were off the hinges and the sense of safety was vanished.
I needed to be held until I forgot. I needed soone to squeeze the trauma out of until I felt clean again.
Cyan had told earlier, while Cassian was being stitched up, that nothing had "happened."
"No, darling," Cyan had said, his eyes full of a soft, sad pity. "Cassian got there in ti. Nothing happened."
I was grateful. Deeply, profoundly grateful. But the "almost" was still a ghost haunting my nerves. The mory of the pill and the helplessness was a stain that soap couldn’t reach. I wanted to disappear into Cassian’s strength until the fear was gone.
But I knew it was wishful thinking. He was here because of guilt. Because of obligation. Because he felt responsible for the ss he’d helped create. This wasn’t love, and it wasn’t the start of so tender romance. It was damage control.
Still, as he stood there drying my hair, I let myself have this mont of gratitude. He was here. He was present. He had stayed when he could have sent a dozen guards to watch instead.
My thoughts were abruptly cut off by a tickle in my nose.
"ACHOO!"
This one was louder, a violent sneeze that shook my whole fra. Cassian stopped, the towel still resting on my head. He looked down at , his expression turning practical and concerned.
"We really need to do sothing about that," he said, his voice dropping the emotional weight in favor of a brisk, protective efficiency.
He turned, scanning the ensuite until he found the hair dryer plugged in by the sink. He grabbed it and returned, handing the nozzle to . "Dry your hair properly before you catch pneumonia. I don’t need you ending up in a hospital on top of everything else."
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