Chapter 182 – The Touch of Calm
Ronan
When the door finally closes behind us, the noise of the castle vanishes. All that’s left is the sound of Eli’s breathing, and it’s wrong. Too thin, too fast, caught somewhere between control and collapse.
He doesn’t look at me. He just stares at my chest, arms clinging to me, shoulders trembling. The smell of Alaric’s hall still clings to his skin. Perfume, spiced wine and polished cruelty. It burns in my throat.
I don’t ask what happened. I can feel the shape of it through the bond. His heart hammering wildly, his wolf pacing, his mind coiled so tight it hums. There are no words for that kind of quiet panic. There never were. This is Eli as he was when I first caught him. Desperately afraid and ready to attack at the slightest provocation.
“Eli.”
His head jerks up. His eyes are bright and empty all at once. The kind of empty that means he’s still trapped somewhere that isn’t here.
“I’m here,” I say. “You’re safe.”
That’s all it takes. The sound that leaves him is the sound of a dam cracking. I pull him close until I feel bone and heartbeat both.
He’s cold, even through his clothes. His hands clutch at the back of my neck, desperate for something to hold on to. I press my face into his hair and breathe him in until the scent of Alaric’s keep dissolves under mine.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper. It comes out rough, closer to a growl than comfort. “You’re mine, baby. Only mine.”
He nods against my shoulder but doesn’t speak. His breath stutters with every inhale. The tremors run through him in waves. I tighten my hold until he’s pressed flush against me, until the rhythm of my breathing can force his to slow.
Minutes pass that way. No words, just pulse against pulse, his shaking bleeding into mine. When I brush my lips over his temple, he exhales a single, shaky breath.
He whispers something into my collar. I barely catch it. “It’s still on me. The room. Him.”
I understand immediately. I tilt his chin up until he meets my eyes. “Then let me take it off.”
He nods, looking small and helpless for the first time in months.
I draw him toward the hearth where the light is softer. My hands find the buttons of his shirt, and I undo them one by one. He just watches me with relief. Confident in my ability to make him feel better.
When the last button gives, I slide the fabric off his shoulders. His skin is marked only by the faint red lines we put there with the ritual.
I trail my thumb along his collarbone, over the edge of the collar itself. “Still yours,” he says quietly, as if afraid I might doubt it.
I shake my head. “Nothing will ever change the fact that we’re each others. The collar is a symbol, not the actual bond. We carry that in our hearts.”
His throat works. The first tear slides down silently, and I catch it with my mouth before it falls further. “You don’t have to hold it together,” I murmur against his skin. “Not with me.”
That’s all the permission he needs. The breath he’s been holding all night breaks out of him in a shudder. He grips the front of my shirt, burying his face against my chest, shaking harder now, soundless but wrecked.
I hold him through it, both arms locked tight, chin on his crown. Each tremor feels like it breaks something in me too.
When his breathing finally slows, I guide him toward the bed. He moves like he’s walking through water. I pull him down beside me, still holding him close. He tries to speak, then gives up.
His fingers curl into my side, tentative, then firmer. The need in the touch isn’t hunger, it’s gravity. Proof that he’s still here.
We lie that way for a long time. The fire pops. The wind outside presses against the windows. His thrumming heart eventually evens against my chest. I start to think he might sleep, but then his voice comes, sounding raw.
“He asked about Ashgrave.”
I close my eyes. “Fucking asshole.”
“He wanted to know what it felt like. To be used. To be forced. To be beaten for not working right.” The words scrape out like shards.
I pull him tighter until he can barely breathe. “You never have to tell him anything again. And you’re perfect.”
He nods once. Then quieter: “He called me beautiful.”
My teeth grind. “He doesn’t get that word. He doesn’t know just how incandescently exquisite you are. He only sees the outer packaging.”
He laughs softly against me, the sound cracked but real. “You can’t take it back from him.”
“I already have.”
He manages to somehow move even closer. As if he’s trying to burrow into my skin.
We fall quiet again. The firelight catches the metal clasp of his collar, sending a line of brightness across the ceiling. I trace it with my gaze, then lower my head to press my lips against it.
“Mine,” I whisper into the leather. “Safe. Always.”
His hands slide over my ribs, slow and tentative, finding the shape of me beneath the fabric. I match him touch for touch. There’s no urgency. Just the slow, deliberate rhythm of bodies remembering they belong somewhere.
His head rests under my chin. I can feel the small tremors still moving through him, so I begin to outline him with my hands. Shoulders, arms, the line of his spine, each touch gentle and possessive. Each time I feel a muscle flinch, I press until it loosens. The bond hums stronger.
He whispers, half-dazed, “Why do you always know exactly what I need?”
“Because I love you,” I say. “I see every part of you, Eli and it awes me constantly.”
He tilts his face up to mine, eyes glassy with exhaustion. “I had to go to him tonight, but I never want to be separated from you that way again.”
“You won’t be.”
I can feel his body start to relax. The tiny movements of someone remembering what safety feels like. He curls closer, tucking his nose into my throat. His lips brush skin when he breathes. The contact sparks something in me, not lust, not anger, just the unbearable need to keep.
My hand cups the back of his neck. “You’re stupidly brave,” I tell him. “But I never want you to have to make that choice again.”
He shakes his head. “I just survived.”
His hand finds mine under the blanket, fingers weaving through until our palms fit. I finally feel the tremor fade from him entirely.
“Sleep,” I tell him.
He resists, mumbling, “If I sleep, it’ll come back.”
“Then I’ll stay awake and keep it out.”
He smiles, eyes half-closed. “You think you can guard dreams now?”
“I can do anything I set my mind to. Except tame a wild, bratty Omega.”
He exhales a quiet laugh and finally lets his weight sink fully against me. The moment his eyes close, the bond quiets to a hum so deep it feels like whale song far below the surface.
I keep one hand on the back of his neck, thumb tracing the steady pulse beneath it. The other stays curved around his waist.
After a while, I whisper what he can’t hear, what he doesn’t need to. “They’ll never touch you again. Not while I’m still breathing.”
His body answers with a sigh, deep and content. I close my eyes and let that sound soothe me.
I stay awake, listening to every breath he takes. The rhythm is the only music I’ll ever need.
I lower my head and press my lips to the crown of his hair, whispering the words we both need to hear.
“Mine. Safe. Always.”