My eyelids fluttered open, a slow crawl from the depths of a much-needed sleep. The air was thick with the lingering scent of disinfectant and something else… something undeniably masculine. I blinked, the hotel suite slowly coming into focus. Plush carpets, muted decor, and a distinct lack of any familiar, terrifying threat. A wave of relief, fragile as spun glass, washed over me.
I sat up, my limbs protesting slightly, and my gaze swept across the spacious living area. There, in the center of the room, was Derick only in faded gray sweatpants, his back to me, he was deep in what looked like an intense workout, earbuds firmly in place. Sweat glistened on his broad back, muscles rippling with each movement.
I found myself openly, and rather shamelessly, checking him out. Suddenly, he stopped, mid-lunge, as if sensing my gaze. He turned, a bright, easy smile blooming on his face, and my cheeks immediately flushed a mortifying shade of crimson. Caught red-handed, or perhaps more accurately, red-faced, I ducked my head, pulling my knees to my chest.
Derick strode over, the smile still firmly in place, and his eyes, usually so serious, held a playful glint. He tossed a towel around his neck, his movements radiating an energy that belied the earlier intensity. "Morning, Cassy," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a familiar warmth through me. "Sleep well?" He stopped a few feet away, giving me space, but his presence filled the room. I managed a weak nod, my voice still raspy. "Yeah," I croaked, feeling the lingering effects of my earlier tears. He didn't push, didn't pry.
"Why were you working out in the room?" I finally managed to ask. Derick sat down on the bed next to me and gently took my hands. "I was struggling to sleep," he confessed, his voice soft, "but I couldn't bring myself to leave your side, not for a moment." The sincerity in his words sent another pang of guilt through me.
Derick's grip tightened, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift, before he announced, "I've ordered room service." His tone lightened, a welcome change that brought immediate gratitude. "And I had Matt grab you a few changes of clothes," he added, gesturing to a bag hanging on the door. "Figured you wouldn't want to stay in that stuffy ballgown." A blush crept up my neck as I realized I was still draped in the blue gown from last night, likely smelling as I hadn't managed a shower since before the ceremony.
"Thanks, Derick," I managed, the embarrassment still clinging to me. I released his hands, a rush of renewed awkwardness propelling me off the bed. Hurrying towards the bag by the door, I snatched it without a second glance and practically bolted for the bathroom. Pausing at the threshold, I glanced back to find Derick watching me, a gentle smile gracing his lips. "I think I'll just take a quick shower, too," I added. He nodded, his smile a small gesture of reassurance.
With a quick push, I shut the door, the bag immediately brought to the mirror. A gasp escaped me as I met my reflection. A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over me; my perfect ball makeup was smudged, eye shadow streaked from my tears, and to top it all off, my hair had descended into an absolute rat's nest.
"Some start to a mating this is," I thought with a wry self-critique. Derick had already lost sleep due to me, and then he awoke to find me a complete wreck. I let out a sigh; the past was unchangeable.
Turning the faucet, I began to remove my makeup, and an immediate sense of relief washed over me. After a quick wash and change, I explored the contents of the bag. A pair of jeans and a graphic tee, surprisingly fitting perfectly, caught my eye. But what truly held my attention were the sneakers – the very same ones I'd worn to the ceremony.
My fingers tightened around the worn shoes, pulling them close to my chest. The long journey to the Ceremony Hall had clearly taken its toll, but here they were, retrieved by Derick. It was a small gesture, but the immense gratitude I felt for him keeping them was a quiet, profound comfort. I dressed quickly and tugged on the sneakers. They felt like a statement, a tangible symbol of the first step I'd taken toward freedom, the first step toward finding Derick.
Just as I'd worn them from the mansion, I wore them out of the bathroom to face Derick. He was already at the table, dressed in his own blue jeans and a tightly fitted blue shirt. Matt sat in another chair, eating breakfast. When he saw me, he flashed a bright smile and waved me over to join them.
Honestly, Derick was so devastatingly handsome, I often found myself questioning the sheer luck of it all. As I started towards the table, he wasted no time, his hands finding my waist and pulling me onto his lap. A telltale blush bloomed on my neck, the echo of our last time at a kitchen table, me straddling him, moving until I reached my peak, resurfacing with a jolt. The memory ignited a potent heat within me, a sensation I desperately tried to tamp down. Not here, not in front of Matt.
"Cassy," Derick murmured into my ear, his voice a low rumble, "I'd love to see how far that blush reaches." He wasn't exactly helping my composure. "But let's eat first, and then we can talk," he added with a soft chuckle, sealing his promise with a kiss to my neck before offering me a slice of bacon.
I snatched it from his hands, harsher than I'd intended, and felt a rumble of laughter escape him at my antics. The breakfast itself was simple: eggs, bacon, muffins, and orange juice. It felt wonderfully peaceful to eat without the suffocating presence of Josh or his father, David. Yet, a pang of sadness surfaced as I thought of my mother. Would she always be trapped there, all alone? Sensing my emotional shift, a change Derick clearly picked up on through our now shared bond, he reached out and rubbed my back. "Everything okay, Cassy?" he asked with a soft tone. I finished the bacon, then adjusted my position so I could look him in the eye. I offered a smile and a nod, but admitted truthfully, "I just miss and worry about my mom, now that I'm gone."
Derick squeezed my shoulder, his touch a silent acknowledgment of my unspoken fears. "We'll figure something out for your mother, Cassy," he said, his voice steady and reassuring. "We can find a way to bring her to the Royal pack, if that is what you want Cassy." His words were a balm to my aching heart, a promise whispered into the void of my anxieties. Matt chimed in, "He's right, Cassy. Once we get you settled, we can focus on your mom. You are our Luna now." Their combined reassurance, the genuine concern in their eyes, chipped away at the isolation that had been my constant companion. The simple act of sharing this meal, this quiet moment of normalcy, felt like a revolution.
As we finished breakfast, Derick stood, pulling me up with him. He kept one arm around my waist, drawing me close. "So," he began, his playful glint returning, "about that blush I wanted to see reach further…" I playfully swatted his chest, a genuine laugh bubbling up. It felt surreal, this easy camaraderie, this absence of fear. My gaze drifted to the window.
"Where are we?" I inquired, the question escaping me as I took in the alien environment. This wasn't the Royal Pack; that was a full eight-hour drive away, and I certainly wouldn't be in a hotel room. My eyes scanned the unfamiliar landscape, a testament to my limited experience. I'd never been outside the pack, and my world had rarely extended beyond the school and my home.
Derick's voice was a soft rumble as he said, "Halfway to home." His arms wrapped around me, anchoring me as we looked out the hotel window at the bustling scene of shops and buildings below. "We'll start making our way to the royal pack after you've eaten," he added. I gave a quiet nod, my eyes continuing their sweep of the view until they landed on a small tattoo parlor tucked between larger structures. An unexpected, daring notion sparked. Was it possible? The phantom ache of the scars on my back still felt like Josh's claim, a mark of possession. Perhaps a tattoo could finally erase that feeling, finally put an end to it.
"Derick..." I started, my voice laced with hesitation. He immediately spun me around to face him, his expression filled with concern. "Um..." I fumbled, my thumbs a blur of nervous energy.
"What's on your mind, beautiful?" Derick's complete attention was a powerful force. I bit my lip, then looked to Matt, who was absorbed in his phone. Without missing a beat, Derick said, "Matt, out." Matt's head snapped up, surprise evident. He followed our exchanged glances, a look of dawning comprehension crossing his face before he sighed and nodded.
"I'll just... get out of your hair," Matt offered, already moving towards the door. A small giggle rippled from me.
"Thanks, Matt," I said. He gave a quick side wave and was gone.
"Now, what is on your mind?" Derick asked again, his voice a warm current that finally pulled my full attention from the swirling thoughts.
I pried myself free from his embrace, and Derick released me, a questioning eyebrow lifting. Turning away, I walked to the window and drew the blinds shut. "Cassy..." Derick murmured, his voice low and husky. A blush crept up my neck at the unspoken suggestion, but I simply turned back to him. He was now leaning against the wall, a silent observer of my movements.
"I want to show you something," I said softly, my voice barely a whisper. Instantly, Derick's playful expression shifted to one of complete seriousness.
"I know you heard the assistant yesterday," I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears, unable to lift my eyes. "About my scars." The confession tore from me, and I heard Derick move, his footsteps drawing nearer. I dared to look up, only to see him halt, his expression one of concern and a hint of confusion.
I let out a ragged breath and, without further hesitation, slipped my shirt off, revealing the bra beneath. His eyes immediately darkened, scanning my body. The potent wave of his arousal washed over me through our bond, igniting a response within my own skin. "Derick," I warned, my gaze sharp. A slow smirk curved his lips as he held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
Turning, I let my hair cascade over my shoulder, and Derick's sharp gasp cut through the silence. The nascent arousal that had filled the space between us evaporated. He finally closed the distance, his hands a gentle current against my back, tracing the map of my scars.
The lines crisscrossed my skin, a testament to a cruelty I desperately wanted to shed. Derick's touch was feather-light, his fingers tracing the raised skin with a reverence that stole my breath. There was no disgust, no revulsion, only a profound sorrow that mirrored my own. Tears pricked at my eyes again. "I... I don't want these anymore," I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. "I want them gone."
He pulled me closer, his arms a warm embrace that sought to shield me from the phantom pain. "Cassy," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "They don't define you. They are a part of your past, not your future." His words, so simple yet so powerful, resonated deep within me. He then gently turned me to face him, the blinds still drawn, but the dim light of the room was enough. "You were so brave," he continued, his voice a steady anchor. "So incredibly brave." His gaze met mine.
"I want to cover them," I said, my courage growing. "Will you come with me?" I asked, holding his gaze.
Derick gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "If that's what you want," he replied, that familiar smirk returning. "But you'd better get a shirt on, unless you're looking for me to have my way with you."