VULNERABILITY

Heat

(Just want to say it 2:44 am and I am CHEESIN over your comments!)

"Shh, baby, I know," Weston whispers as he presses a washcloth against my forehead.

I groan and clench my eyelids shut. I can't tell how many hours have passed. It feels like I've been on fire for twelve years. I just want it to end. Weston has me in his lap so my head can rest against his broad chest. I admit that it makes the stinging sensation almost go away.

"Make it stop, please," I beg him with a croaky voice.

I can't make out his expression due to the tears blurring my vision. However, through our link, I can feel that he is in pain watching me. If I wasn't on fire, I would appreciate his feelings.

"This is the hardest par, Flower, in two hours you should feel a little better," he promises and presses the cloth against my forehead once again.

I moan and groan through the early hours of the morning. Weston never leaves my side as I sweat through my shirt. Instead of being grossed out, he holds me tighter and pushes my hair behind my ear. My heart skips a beat at his affection. All night he holds me and coos words of encouragement as the flames overtake my body.

He was right when he said in a few hours I will feel better. It was five o'clock in the morning when the burning morphed into a dull heat. I allowed myself to sleep once the pain started to subside.

"Get some rest, flower. I will be here when you wake."

Those are the last words I hear before I close my eyes and give into the darkness of sleep.

I find myself . . . dreaming.

I must be a ghost. My mom is waddling around the kitchen, very much pregnant. Very much young. I try to get her attention but she doesn't hear or see me. So I sigh and follow her. She tries to bend over and pick up a napkin but can't due to her enormous belly. It makes me chuckle.

"Honey, I can grab that. What did I say about overexerting yourself?" My dad swoops into the kitchen and assists my mom. Of course, she scoffs but accepts his help.

"I just want the house to be clean before the mayor and his family comes over," she says with a stressful sigh.

My dad shoos her into the living room and turns on the tv.

"The house is already spotless, dear. Just relax, they should be here any minu-"

The doorbell rings. I can see my mom is wanting to clean some more before my dad opens the door. However, she listens to him and remains sitting. I watch her rub her tummy absently before three people enter the room.

I watch as they all hug and shake hands. The man must be the mayor and the woman must be his wife.

"I'm, Charlotte and this is our son, Weston."

I gasp out loud as I gaze into the little boy's eyes. Of course, no one can hear me.

It doesn't take a genius to know I am starring at little, Weston. He must be five or six years old.

"Ma'am, why is your tummy so big?" little Weston asks in genuine curiosity. This causes everyone to laugh. My mother doesn't look offended at his question.

She grabs his hand and places it against her tummy.

"Our little one is in there," my mother tells him, "you can see her in a couple weeks."

He watches my mothers stomach in wonder. His hand wretches away as soon as he feels movement. Everyone laughs. Weston places his hand back against my mother's stomach but this time there is not a look of wonder of his face. It's a look of intensity.

He stares at my mom's stomach and says: mine.

I gasp and open my eyes. Right away, I see Weston. His dark, brown hair is messily splattered against his forehead. From his mouth, there are soft snores that make me almost want to smile. I look around and see that I am still on his lap. I can tell he is in deep sleep as he doesn't shift as I awake. He must have been up all night caring for me. My heart softens at this.

Then I remember the dream I just had.

It was just a dream, right?

But how was it so . . . vivid?

I watch the man who holds me so close and wonder who he really is, besides a jailor and a kidnapper. I know there is more to him. Once again, I am fighting an internal battle with myself. Do I give into him. Or, do I hold onto this bitterness.

Weston must have felt the stress I am feeling through our bond. His eyes fly open and scan the room before settling on me. His hair is messy and sexy . . .

Sexy? Where are these thoughts coming from.

He smiles as he meets my eyes.

"Good morning, flower," he rumbles.

Morning voice. Fuck.

"Morning," I croak out weakly.

"Are you hungry," he asks while absently rubbing circles on my back.

I shy away from his hands which makes him frown.

"Y-Ya, I am," I stutter and try to get out of his lap.

However, his hands plop me right back down.

"I wouldn't try to stand up if I were you. Your body is going to be sore and aching all day. Your heat isn't officially over."

I sigh and accept my fate.

I watch his leave and feel the heat start to coil in my stomach.

Thank god, he returns in five minutes with eggs and toast. I take it and quietly thank him.

"Don't you have to go to work?" I ask once I have swallowed my food.

"I won't be going to work until your heat subsides. It's not the best idea to leave you here vulnerable. We still haven't caught the people stalking you," he says. I can feel through our link that he is frustrated and angry that we haven't found any trace of them.

I simply nod and finish my plate of amazing eggs.

"So what are we going to do all day?" I ask once I set the plate on the nightstand.

"Well, we can watch a movie?"

That's how I find myself snuggled into his side watching Gracie and Frankie. I notice him stealing looks at me. I can feel his happiness and contentedness. He must feel the conflict through our link.

I tell myself I'm only beside him because of my .... heat ..... but the longer we nestle together and laugh, I feel a tug at my heart. It's so hard to fight these feelings. They consume me like the fires of my heat. I want to jump in head first but something stops me.

All I know is that it's only a matter of time before I give in.

I look at him. His eyes are focused on the screen before they are dragged away. He returns my gaze and smiles.

He knows it too. I'm close to giving in.