The Selected

He's Back

Present Day

Has your entire world ever been flipped completely upside down in a matter of seconds? No? Well let me describe it to you. It's the worst fucking thing ever. And as I saw that dagger, the very dagger that had cut into me and ruined me and had also been my salvation, is now also my downfall one again.

Connie had burst into the room like the devil himself was on his tail, and I'd immediately known it was bad news. And then Alexander was there, looking perfect and harder to resist. And then there was that fucking crooked, evil-looking knife from my past. And that photo, the picture of me when I'd gone for my run, for a simple breath of fresh air.

The picture he'd somehow taken of me without me knowing he was even there.

I thought back to that uneasy feeling I'd felt when I was out there, and I couldn't help but wonder if he would have done more than take a picture if I had lingered. But the message on the back made it obvious.

He was back. The bastard of a hunter who had haunted my dreams for the past couple years was still alive, and he was coming after me.

So I lost it. My composure was in shreds as I sat back from the toilet and began to sob, the gravity of the situation finally hitting me. Arms wrapped around me, filling me with electricity and warmth and I knew it wasn't Conrad.

Alexander's arms were strong and sure as he pulled me towards him, holding me close as sobs, one after another, wracked my body. As, despite everything I'd done to prevent it, waves of horrible memories I'd blocked out over time came crashing back into me.

A metal table. A bright light. The smell of sweat, urine, and blood. So much blood.

I screwed my eyes shut even harder and Alexander's arms tightened around me once again. He whispered lightly, soothing words slipping from those beautiful lips of his. Small encouragements of "it's okay" and "I've got you" repeated over and over again as he held me and rocked me.

Slowly, I began to melt in his arms. I ran out of the energy and tears to sob and I sniffled in his arms, savoring what might be the one and only time my mate would hold me in his arms like this. And I hated to admit it, but it felt so right to be in his arms. I felt safe and whole and not at all like I was shattering into a million little pieces right there on the bathroom floor.

And Conrad has held me like this dozens of times when I finally caved and let myself get emotional once in a blue moon, but it was nothing compared to how it felt to be in Alexander's arms right now.

But through the elation of being held by him, of being near him, I felt that ever-impending sense of guilt. I felt guilty because this, this felt dangerously close to building some sort of relationship with him, and that just couldn't happen for many reasons, most importantly the fact that I'd never be able to give him what he needs.

And those thoughts only made the sinking feeling in my stomach even worse as I realized that I was basically fighting a war on two fronts now. How could I possibly face the return of the man in my nightmares while simultaneously pushing away the one person who could absolutely keep me in one piece?

It was all too much, and at the realization I could feel myself seizing up all over again, that tightness returning along with those quick, short breaths.

Alexander just rocked me more, "Shh, you're okay. I won't let them get you."

Another stray tear fell down my cheek, even though I'd thought I had run out of them hours ago, a lifetime ago. It was pure selfishness that kept me there in his arms, enjoying the warmth he brought, the feeling of certain safety and comfort.

I didn't even notice when Conrad left the bathroom. My eyes had closed and remained so a while ago, tired from all of the tears spent. Alexander's arms tightened around me before I felt him standing, carrying me with him. We left the bathroom, then the bedroom, and we walked for a short while before I heard another door opening, then subsequently closing.

When he placed me down on a soft bed, my hands gripped tightly onto his shirt.

"I'm here, I'm not leaving," He said it so strongly, with such conviction, I drowsily wondered if he meant it in more ways than one. If he knew that I was so beyond being able to trust new people that he thought the best way to go about it was to assert and affirm it over and over.

Sure enough, he slipped into the bed moments later, his arms coming around me once more, pulling me so that my head rested on his chest. Momentarily, I was torn again by this crossroads; to sleep in this bed with my mate, who I should be trying to convince to hate me or reject me, or to leave.

But the exhaustion of the day settled heavily on me even if it wasn't yet time for bed, and as his chest rose and fell beneath my head, and as I heard his strong and steady heart beating in his chest, that warmth both inside and out returned to me, dissolving my worries if only for a moment.

So I let my body relax, letting the sweet, beckoning lull of sleep pull me under into blissful unconsciousness in a matter of minutes, if not seconds.

It wasn't until I woke up, his hand idly running up and down my arm, gray morning light outside the window, that everything finally settled in my mind and I realized what a huge, colossal mistake this had been.