Unbroken (The Protectors 12)

I couldn’t stop looking at his mouth. Even with the beard, his lips looked really full and soft. I dropped my eyes to the spot on his chest where the top couple of buttons on his shirt were undone. There was some black hair there too. I chanced a look at his forearms which were exposed by drawn-up sleeves. The tattoo on his right arm looked like a cross, though it was very intricate in its design and it looked like there were angel wings coming out the two shorter sides.

Before I could even ask myself what I was doing, I ran my finger along the arm he had resting on his stomach. When I realized what I’d done, I jerked my hand back. But he didn’t wake and the memory of how warm his skin had been was already etched into my brain. I wanted to touch him there again, but I knew it was wrong, so I didn’t.

I told myself to just go back to sleep, but something about watching him sleep calmed me. Maybe because he looked so calm. It wasn’t that he seemed out of control or anything like that when he was awake… more like he was always too much in control. At first, I’d thought him more like Magnus in that he seemed like someone who was naturally relaxed and laid back, but the more I thought about it, Vaughn seemed like he was always looking for something. And that the calm demeanor was a mask.

So he was calm, but not relaxed.

I thought back to the night he’d shot Father. He’d killed so easily, like he’d been born to it. But for some reason, my mind was trying to convince me that wasn’t who he was.

He reminded me of Dante in that sense – like he wanted to appear one way on the surface, but beneath was someone else entirely. And if you didn’t look hard enough to get past that hard shell, you’d miss what was inside.

“Should’ve stopped it,” Vaughn suddenly whispered, and his expression drew into a frown. “I’m sorry, Aleks. So sorry.”

He actually began whimpering deep in his throat and the fingers he had resting on his stomach began twitching.

He was having a nightmare.

And I was part of it.

When he said my name again, it sounded like he was suffering the worst kind of torment.

I knew that torment.

I’d lived it.

I reached my hand out to settle it on his cheek. “Vaughn,” I said softly as I leaned into him, so I could talk to him without waking him up. “I’m safe. It’s okay.”

“Aleks,” he breathed again. The creases in his forehead relaxed just a bit, indicating he’d heard me. I began rubbing my thumb across his cheekbone to try and soothe him. The wiry but still soft hairs of his beard brushed against my palm in the most intriguing of ways.

“Sleep, Vaughn,” I said softly.

“Gotta get you out,” he responded.

Something inside my chest twisted, then exploded. I didn’t understand this man and his words and I needed to stay angry so I wouldn’t do something foolish and start trusting him again.

But who was I kidding?

Just like the first time he’d handed me a piece of butterscotch and told me everything would be okay, I knew he wasn’t doing any of this to hurt me or manipulate me or trick me. I didn’t understand how I could so easily give so much of myself to this virtual stranger, but it was in line with the same feelings I’d had as a child when Brian had tried to convince me that Dante didn’t love me and he wasn’t coming for me. I’d eventually allowed myself to stop waiting for Dante, but deep down, I’d always known he would come for me. I just hadn’t believed he’d be able to actually find me.

That same strange faith kept me tied to Vaughn. All the facts said I shouldn’t trust him and that I should call Dante and just go home, but it wasn’t just the inevitable danger I’d be putting my brother and my family in that had kept me with Vaughn.

It was something… more.

The warmth in my chest began to spread throughout my limbs and for the first time in forever, I felt like I was really okay. The past fell away, so did the future – it was just me and Vaughn and this one moment and I wanted to enjoy it.

“Vaughn,” I repeated softly until his body stopped moving. He sighed and completely relaxed. I lifted my hand to smooth out the last of the creases on his forehead. My finger moved of its own accord over one perfectly shaped eyebrow, then down the bridge of his nose. The hair beneath his nose tickled my finger and I found myself smiling for no reason at all. Then I was touching his lips and the humor died off as my insides got all tight and hot. My groin ached as my penis grew harder.