Saved by the King

Eight*

I awoke the next morning slowly, prompted by the warm sun shining through the open window.

Once I finally opened my eyes, I realized that that was the first time in years that I hadn't been startled awake. It didn't make much sense. It wasn't as if I felt safe and secure in my environment, but even after waking up my mind was foggy, my muscles heavy.

I hazily recalled the sleeping medicine I had taken last night. It had worked well, as I couldn't remember anything from last night fifteen minutes or so after taking it. I hadn't wanted to take it, but the intense headache coupled with my frantic nerves would not have permitted me to sleep anytime soon, and I had desperately needed to. It must not have worn off, which was causing my uncharacteristic lethargy.

The only drawback, though, was that Logan had been in the room when I fell asleep. The medicine was strong enough to completely knock me out for a good eight or nine hours; a plane crashing right outside the house wouldn't have woken me up. What if Logan had taken advantage of my prolonged unconsciousness? I wouldn't have had any way of knowing, let alone fighting him off. I mentally checked over my body for the signs, but none were there. The usual soreness in my abdomen and pain in my hips were absent; I only noticed the ever-worsening pain in my skull, and a dull ache in my wrists where the rogue had leaned much of his weight when he had pinned me down.

So, probably not. I had never, in my entire time in the Trade, been taken advantage of and not had the physical reminders for the next day or two. Of course, the absence of pain in my lower body didn't confirm that Logan had left me alone without a doubt, but I still felt myself relaxing as I convinced myself that he hadn't touched me. Like he promised.

Logan had been in the room when I had fallen asleep the night before. Was he still there now? The thought evoked fear, but in a muted form. I wasn't filled with the buzzing anxiety that I normally was at Logan's physical proximity. I vaguely realized that the drug probably hadn't completely worn off and was contributing to my sluggish thoughts and subdued emotions. Still, fear was fear, and I clumsily sat up to see if I was alone in the room.

I wasn't. My headache had worsened tenfold when I sat up, but I was more focused on the werewolf who claimed to be my mate sleeping soundly in the armchair next to the bed.

The fact that he was asleep somewhat settled me. He was slumped in the armchair, head tilted over to rest on the side. A faint dusting of black stubble covered his sharp jaw, and even I had to grudgingly admit to myself that he was probably the most attractive person I'd ever seen. What struck me the most, though, is that he appeared to have kept his promise. If he had taken advantage of me in my sleep, I couldn't imagine him then reclothing himself and falling asleep in the armchair. It wouldn't make any sense.

So, he had been telling the truth when he said he wouldn't touch me, even when I was so out of it that I wouldn't have remembered. Why? When I was in the Trade, no one had ever bothered to promise me anything, let alone actually keep it. What made Logan different? What had compelled him to keep his promise, to attempt to earn my trust?

Could it possibly be the Bond that he was so insistent was there? Was it possible that he was telling the truth? Why else would he have followed me after I ran away and saved me from the rogue? I normally would have rationalized it as him intending to punish me for trying to flee, but last night he hadn't seemed the least bit angry. Frustrated, yes, but not mad. I didn't understand it in the least. I run away, which in any other circumstances would merit a beating at least, he follows to save me from a rogue, carries me back, and doesn't so much as raise his voice? I felt like reality had shifted; this was completely unanticipated and more than unsettling. What game was he playing? What was his objective? To gain my trust, obviously, but for what purpose?