Teasing Her Alpha Guard

CHAPTER 17

Dahlia

"Dahlia," he said slowly, opening his eyes.

I'd been sitting in that stiff hospital chair for what felt like hours, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, terrified every time it seemed to catch or slow. The moment his voice broke the silence, relief hit me so hard my whole body sagged forward.

"Oh my goodness, Cassian, you're awake." I grabbed his hand, gripping it tight enough that he winced slightly, though he didn't pull away.

"I had the weirdest dream last night." He winced again, reaching up to grab his head, then shifted like he meant to swing his legs off the bed. I caught his arm before he could.

"Don't move, Cassian. You haven't healed properly."

"What are you talking about?" His eyes finally cleared enough to actually take in the room around him, the machines, the IV line, the pale hospital walls. "Oh my. Why am I in a hospital?"

"You were attacked yesterday. Don't you remember? In the archive room."

He went quiet, brow furrowing, like he was digging through fog to find something buried underneath it. I watched him carefully, my heart pounding while I waited.

"Now I remember," he said finally. "I was in the archive room. I found a ledger, something about Marcus. Then someone came in behind me. He hit me."

"Perfect." I sat up straighter, already planning the conversation I'd have with my father the second I got confirmation. "I'll report whoever it was, and they'll explain exactly what this nonsense is all about. What did he look like? I'm assuming it was a man, since a woman couldn't have overpowered you."

"That's, that's the issue." He rubbed his jaw, avoiding my eyes.

"What do you mean? What issue?" My voice came out slower this time, dread already creeping in before he even answered.

"I don't know what he looks like, Dahlia." He looked up at me, frustration and confusion tangled together on his face. "I can't find a face. Nothing. Just a blank where his face should be."

"But, did you hit your head that hard when you fell?" I sat back, disappointment settling heavy in my chest. "I thought maybe."

"I don't know."

I stood up, needing to move, needing to do something with the restless energy building in me. "I'll get the doctor."

A few minutes later a middle aged man in a white coat came in, checking Cassian's chart, shining a small light into his eyes, asking a series of quiet questions before finally turning to me.

"The issue is he had a concussion," the doctor explained. "It's common for patients to have memory gaps around the moment of trauma itself, sometimes permanently. His body protected itself by not fully processing the attack."

Of course. Of course that had to happen now, of all times. I stood there feeling the frustration coil tight in my chest, knowing full well we weren't getting anywhere near identifying who had done this to my brother, not through him anyway.

After some more back and forth with Cassian and the doctor, they told me I could head back to the pack house and let Cassian rest. I refused. I'd heard enough stories over the years about people finishing what they started while their targets lay helpless in hospital beds, and I wasn't about to risk that happening to my own brother. I told them I'd stay, just in case.

Besides, he'd gotten dragged into all this because of me. The least I could do was sit in an uncomfortable chair and keep watch.

Eventually I went back to the pack house to grab a few things, a change of clothes, my charger, anything to make the hospital stay more bearable. I hadn't even made it through the front door before I saw Roman coming towards me, his expression tight, disturbed in a way that made my stomach drop before he'd said a single word.

"Let's talk somewhere else," he said quietly.

I led him up to my room, closing the door behind us, and the second we were alone he held up the crumpled piece of ledger between two fingers.

"This name here." He tapped it. "Gideon Vale. You know him, Adrian's father."

I nodded slowly, waiting, my whole body tensing when he didn't immediately continue.

"What? Why did you stop?" I crossed my arms. "If you're trying to find a way to lie to me, save it. I'll just leave."

"You asked me who recruited me." His jaw tightened. "That's the man. He hired me to extract you."

My eyes stayed locked on his, refusing to look away even as something cold settled deep in my chest.

"And there's something else." He hesitated, and for a man who rarely hesitated about anything, that alone told me whatever came next was going to hurt. "He brought in a conjurer. Had her create a fake mate bond between us. It was meant to get me close to you, make it easier."

"What are you trying to say?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted it to.

"I know, and I'm sorry. I would have told you eventually."

"You would have?" I laughed, sharp and humorless, the sound scraping raw against my own throat. "When exactly would that have been, Roman?"

"That means all this." I gestured between us, my hand shaking slightly. "All of this between us. It's fake."

I stood up fast, needing distance, needing air, but he caught my wrist before I could get far.

"I told you what was real and what wasn't," he said, low and steady. "The bond might have started as something manufactured. What I feel for you now isn't."

"Whatever." I studied his face anyway, searching for the lie I desperately wanted to find and couldn't.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly, pulling me gently back toward the bed.

"I want you to kiss me and." I held my breath, hating myself a little for what I was about to say. "I'm sorry."

He didn't make me finish the sentence. His mouth found mine instead, pressing deep, his hands sliding around my body like he needed to feel every inch of me to believe I was still there. I didn't understand why I wanted this right now, why grief and anger were somehow tangling into need instead of driving me away from him, but I stopped fighting it the second his hands found the hem of my top and pulled it over my head.

He lowered his mouth to my breasts, tongue circling slow, deliberate patterns around each n****e until I was gasping for breath. Then he dropped lower, kneeling between my thighs, licking straight down my slick folds in one long, unhurried stroke that had my legs shaking within seconds.

"Roman." My voice came out breathless, desperate. "I want to feel you inside me."

I paused for a second, some distant part of my brain reminding me that my brother was lying in a hospital bed right now, hurt because of me, while I was here falling apart in the arms of the man who might have caused all of it.

Roman didn't give me time to sit with that thought. He flipped me onto all fours, my ass raised, and filled me in one swift, deep stroke that punched the air straight out of my lungs. He rocked into me without mercy, every thrust hard and grinding, until my p***y clenched tight around him and I shattered, jerking through my c****x with his name torn from my throat.

He spilled inside me a moment later with a low, guttural groan, pulling out slowly, his c*m trailing warm down the inside of my thighs.

We lay there afterward, both of us breathless, chests heaving, the room silent except for our uneven breathing. I turned to look at him, tracing the sharp line of his jaw with my eyes, and the question that had been sitting heavy in my chest finally forced its way out.

"What if everything we're doing together is meaningless?" I said slowly. "What if I don't feel the same way once the said spell wears off?"

He went quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Shouldn't we worry about the present for now?" he said finally, voice low and careful, like even he wasn't sure it was the right answer.

I stared at him in the dark, waiting for something more.