The Alpha's Addiction [BXB]

Chapter 51: Burden

I wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for breath as the phantom sensation of Zacan's hands on my throat lingers. My throat closes up in panic my body refuses to move, trapped under the smothering cover of the blankets. Oliver is glued to my side, with Cyrus slumbering on the other, arm draped over the both of us. 

He's going to find me. He's going to find me and take me away and do horrible things to my body that I'll never recover from. I shudder, eyes rapidly scanning the room as if he and his goons will be lying in wait in a dark corner, ready to drag me from my bed into the night. 

Everything aches from the injuries he's inflicted, the slightest movement sending jolts of tingling pain down my limbs. Goddess, can the pup handle this? I need to calm down. I can't put more of a strain on them than I already have. I force my abdomen to relax, feeling the weight of my growing baby settle before I slowly sit up, letting Cyrus's arm slide off of me. My heart twinges at the loss of contact, but soon the urge to vomit takes over as I crawl down the middle of the bed, precariously finding my footing before rushing to the bathroom. 

Kneeling over the toilet after practically emptying my guts, I start to cry, my frame heaving with the effort to keep my sobs restrained, quiet. I promised myself I would get over this. That I would forget about what Zacan did to me. What all of those nasty men did to me. But the memories come at me full throttle, flooding my brain with a barrage of terror-inducing images. Of me being held down, forced. Being beaten for resisting. Of Zacan's laughter as I struggled, his sharp insults when I displeased him. 

Please just go away. I squeeze my eyes shut, banging my clenched up fists into my head. Get out. Get out of there and leave me alone. 

I rock myself in a ball on the bathroom floor and feel well and truly pathetic. I need to get over it. I'm a mother. I want to be a good Luna for Cyrus. How am I supposed to do that when all I can do is cower and break down in the middle of the night?

I hear the thump of footsteps and the soft creak of the bathroom door, freezing. Shit. I woke him up. 

"My moon," Cyrus says softly, sinking to the ground next to me without hesitation. At that, I can only choke out a sob, burying my face in his chest as those strong arms surround me, pulling me into his warmth. 

"You are safe with me. No one is ever going to hurt you again," he nuzzles the top of my head. 

My chest heaves with grief as I cry into his shirt, getting it messy with snot and tears. "I-I'm sorry." I croak out, for nothing in particular. Maybe for everything. 

I feel him shake his head, dismissing my apology in an instant and my chest squeezes painfully. I don't fucking deserve him. 

"I'll draw you a bath. You're ice cold," he helps me up, and I cling to him helplessly. He closes the door, filling the tub with steaming water like he did the other day. I don't miss him pouring various bath salts and calming herbs into it, which makes my lips wobble with the threat of more tears. His devotion never fails to touch me to my very core. 

He helps with taking off my clothes and getting in, letting me clutch his hand almost painfully tight even when I'm settled. I don't want to let him go. I don't want the security and safety of his touch and presence to ever leave me. He sits there with me as my breathing gradually slows from my previous, fast, panicked huffs. I lean my head back on the tubs edge, turning to take in his expression. His eyes hold an intense look, locked on mine as his brows form a pained crease between them. 

I crack. 

"I am such a burden," I sob softly, turning my face away from him in shame. 

"You're not." He squeezes my hand, thumb caressing the skin of my knuckles.