Unlocked (The Alpha Group 3)

The third or fourth time I woke, it was with a sob. Moonlight cast the room as a series of jagged silhouettes, and despite knowing I was somewhere safe, the unfamiliarity of my surroundings sent something sharp skittering through my chest. Suddenly, it felt like everything was closing in around me. I let out another cry and burrowed deeper under the covers, feeling fresh tears welling in my eyes. I didn't want to be this person, this person who cried at shadows, but I didn't know how to deal with the emotions that were roaring up inside me.

I felt another bolt of fear as I heard the door open, but in a moment there was a familiar weight on the bed, and then Sebastian's arms were circling my body from behind.

"It's okay," he said, his voice soft. "Let it out."

I have no idea how he knew I was in distress, but in spite of everything that was still unresolved between us, I loved that he'd come. The sheer strength of his presence dwarfed everything else, dulling the fear. He was my rock and I clung on for dear life, lest I slip back below the surface again.

He didn't say anything else and so neither did I, but just the act of being together was enough. I lay there, listening to the sound of his breathing, enjoying the sensation of that solid chest rising and falling against my back. Gradually, my turmoil began to dissipate. I had no idea how he had such a calming effect on me. When we were together, nothing else seemed to matter.

He felt like home, and for just that night, I pretended like he still was.

CHAPTER THREE

Sebastian

I hadn't expected Sophia to sleep at all, not after what she'd been through. Trauma like that can break a person. But somehow she'd drifted off. I had no idea where she found the strength to be that tough. She never ceased to amaze me.

For a while I lay there, trying to get some rest myself, but the events of the last two days had thrown my whole world into chaos. It was all happening again. The fact that I'd averted the worst didn't make the situation any better. I was an asshole. I should never have let it get to this point, but I was weak, and it had nearly cost the woman I love her life. How the hell could I sleep, knowing that?

To make matters worse, even now I couldn't stay away. She was as secure here as anywhere, but the moment she'd left my sight I began to feel agitated. I still hadn't managed to shed the mindless terror that had seized me when I first heard she'd been taken. The urge to go to her, to simply hold her and never let go, had been almost overpowering.

I'd tried to distract myself. There was certainly no shortage of work to be done — most of my colleagues were holed up together in the board room, planning well into the night — but I was useless there. My mind only wanted to focus on one thing, and soon I found myself sitting, propped up against the wall outside her room, nursing several fingers of scotch in a heavy crystal tumbler. I didn't know why, but just being close to her helped. I made myself vow not to enter. It had taken an immense level of control to cut her off the first time, and every moment in her presence stretched my willpower just a little more. I would keep her safe and solve all this, and then when it was all over, I'd let her go again. It was the only way.

But the moment I heard her sobbing through the door, all sense of self-control fled. Before I knew it, I was on my feet and in her bed. I expected her to fight, after all, I had to be the last person she wanted to see, but she didn't. Instead she just burrowed into me without a word. I hated how perfect that felt, the way her body fit like a missing puzzle piece against mine. I still didn't understand how such simple contact could make me so content, but it did.

And now she slept. I couldn't help but run my eyes over her again. Truth be told, I'd barely been able to stop staring since the moment I entered the room. She looked so fucking beautiful lying there, her face utterly peaceful, her curves perfectly accentuated by the thin cotton sheet. She'd taken the T-shirt I left her, but not the pants, and now in the throes of sleep she'd managed to knock part of the cover free, exposing one delicate hip. It was a tiny thing, the barest hint of pale skin and black cloth, but the sight took my breath away nonetheless. I felt impossibly low, ogling her after everything I'd put her through, but I was powerless to do anything else. Her body was like a drug, a burning rush through my system that was impossible to ignore. I knew how that hip would feel, if only I'd reach out and touch it. I had every inch of her body charted in my head; so perfectly soft, so perfectly feminine.

Fuck. I had to pull myself together.

Ripping my gaze free, I eased my arm out from under her. I'd done what I came to do. She was resting. There was no reason for me to stay.

She stirred briefly, and I came within a hair's breadth of pulling her back against me once more, but after a few moments she settled. Taking one last look, I moved quietly out into the corridor and resumed my watch. I'd be there if she needed me, but anything beyond that was too hard. There was no happy ending here, and letting myself think otherwise would only destroy me more.

* * * * *

I spent the entire night in that hallway. After a few hours my back was killing me, but I refused to move until the sun rose. It was stupid — there were many men much more dangerous than I, stationed around the complex — but I felt compelled to guard her personally, just that once, like that could somehow make up for my earlier failure.

At around seven, I heard her stirring. Not wanting her to know about my vigil, I slipped downstairs and headed for the kitchen. I'd sent enough mixed messages for one night.

I had no idea what the day would bring. Ever since I'd heard about her kidnapping, I'd been operating purely on instinct. A kind of base fury that blotted out everything else. But now that I had her, I had to face the reality of the situation. Now the fallout would begin.

She came downstairs while I was eating breakfast. She looked impossibly angelic; eyes bright, hair tussled. God, no wonder I was in trouble where she was concerned. Even first thing in the morning, frightened and bruised, she was utterly gorgeous, and every time I saw her, it was like seeing her again for the first time.

She shot me a small smile, but it was cautious, deflated. I didn't blame her. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," I replied. "Sleep okay?"

She nodded, apparently unsure if she should say anything about my visit. "Eventually, yeah. I'm starving now though."

"I expected you might be. There's toast or cereal. I'm sorry it's not scrambled eggs, but we're a little unprepared here."

She blinked a few times, her expression unreadable. I don't know why I made reference to that morning. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"That'll be fine," she said, and set about making herself something. A minute later, she joined me at the table.