MINE TO PROTECT
1570 Words
THE PACT OF FIVE
CHAPTER 9: MINE TO PROTECT
The fire in my bedroom fireplace has burned down to embers, casting a soft, flickering glow across the dark blue walls. The heavy velvet curtains are drawn, shutting out the world beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the only sound is the crackle of the dying flames and the steady *thump-thump* of my own heartbeat. I should be asleep. I *should* be exhausted after the day I’ve had—Knox’s kiss, Cole’s confession, Jax’s hunger, the way they all look at me like I’m the only thing worth fighting for.
But I’m wide awake, my body still humming from their touches, my mind racing with their words.
*Twenty-two days.*
I sit up in bed, the silk sheets pooling around my waist, and reach for the glass of water on my nightstand. The crystal is cool against my fingers, the water refreshing but doing little to settle the storm inside me.
That’s when I see him.
A shadow in the armchair by the fireplace. Tall, broad-shouldered, his gray eyes gleaming in the firelight like a predator’s in the dark.
*Zane.*
My breath catches, my heart leaping into my throat. He’s wearing a dark gray sweater and black sweatpants, his jet-black hair slightly messy, like he’s been running his hands through it. His ice-blue eyes are locked on me, his expression unreadable.
I pull the sheets up to my chest, my voice barely a whisper. "What are you doing here?"
He doesn’t answer right away. Just *watches* me, his gaze *intense*, like he’s memorizing every inch of my face. The firelight dances across his sharp cheekbones, casting shadows that make him look even more *dangerous.*
Finally, his voice is low, rough. "You *know* what I’m doing here."
I swallow hard. "Zane—"
"You’re *mine* to protect, Lena." His voice is a *vow*, a *promise*, a *claim.* It sends a shiver down my spine, his words wrapping around me like a shield. Or a cage.
I should tell him to leave. Should *scream.* But I don’t. I just sit there, my heart *hammering,* my body *aching* for his touch.
He stands up, his movements fluid, like a panther on the prowl. He doesn’t come closer. Not yet. But his eyes *burn* into me, his voice a dark caress. "You think I *liked* watching them with you today? Watching *Cole* kiss you? Watching *Jax* touch you?" His jaw *clenches.* "Watching *Knox* look at you like he wants to *devour* you?"
I close my eyes, his words hitting me like a punch to the gut. "Then why didn’t you *stop* them?"
His laugh is *dark.* "Because it’s not my *place.*"
I open my eyes, my voice rising. "Not your *place?* Zane, you’re *one* of them. You’re part of the *pact.*"
His eyes *flash.* "And I *enforce* it."
I let out a bitter laugh. "By *watching?* By *doing nothing?*"
He takes a step forward, his voice a growl. "By *waiting.*"
My breath catches. The air between us is *thick*, charged with something electric. Something *hungry.*
I should look away. Should *breathe.* But I can’t. I’m trapped in his gaze, in the heat of his words, in the *truth* of his claim.
He takes another step forward, his body caging me in against the headboard. The scent of cedar and rain fills my senses, intoxicating me. "You think I *don’t* want you?" His voice is a dark whisper. "You think I *don’t* ache for you every *f*****g* night?"
I whimper, my hands flying to his chest. "Zane—"
"Tell me to stop," he murmurs, his voice rough. "Tell me to *leave.*"
I *should.* I *know* I should. But the words won’t come.
Because the truth is, I *don’t* want him to stop.
His hand lifts, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch is *gentle*, but his eyes are *wild.* "I *dream* of you, Lena. Of your *smile.* Of your *laugh.* Of the way you *moan* when they touch you." His voice drops to a whisper. "And it *kills* me."
I close my eyes, his fingers sending a shiver down my spine. "Zane—"
His other hand slides around my waist, pulling me against him. His body is *hard*, all muscle and heat and *hunger.* I can *feel* him—*hard* and *ready*—and my core *aches* with the need to have him *inside* me.
But he doesn’t *kiss* me. Doesn’t *touch* me beyond that. He just *holds* me, his breath hot against my ear. "I *promised* to protect you, Lena. And I *will.* Even from *them.* Even from *myself.*"
I pull back, my eyes searching his. "And what if I don’t *want* to be protected?"
His jaw *clenches.* "You *do.*"
I *should* argue. Should *fight.* But the truth is, I *do* want to be protected. I want to be *cherished.* I want to be *theirs.*
His thumb traces my bottom lip, his voice a dark promise. "But that doesn’t mean I won’t *claim* you when the time comes."
And then he’s *gone,* slipping out the door like a shadow, leaving me standing there, my skin on fire, my mind racing, my body *aching* with a need I don’t even understand.
Because the *worst* part?
I *know* he’s right.
And in twenty-two days, I told her I’d protect her. But who the hell protects me from her?"
- Writer
