Rejected and Pregnant I Fled The Pack (Evelyn and Damon) novel Chapter 238

"That's not something I've genuinely experienced before," she said quietly. "Trusting someone else enough to actually call out for them specifically, in my most desperate, vulnerable moment."

"I'm genuinely honored," I said, my voice carrying quiet, sincere emotion, "that you trusted me enough for that, even unconsciously."

She studied me for a long moment, something complicated but considerably less guarded crossing her tired, tear-streaked expression. "I think," she said slowly, "tonight's terror has genuinely clarified something for me. Regardless of your previous reputation, regardless of everything complicated about your established pattern with other women—when genuine danger threatened me, my instinct called for you specifically. That has to mean something significant."

I felt hope building carefully, cautiously in my chest at that acknowledgment, understanding the genuine weight of what she was actually saying.

"It means considerably more than I probably deserve," I said honestly, "given everything I've apparently put you through throughout this difficult day alone. But Nadia, I promise you, whatever genuine trust you're willing to extend, I intend to actually honor it completely."

She nodded slowly, exhaustion and lingering emotional distress evident despite the genuine, meaningful shift in her demeanor. Another coughing fit gripped her, and I helped her settle back against the pillows, reaching for the water glass I'd thoughtfully positioned nearby earlier.

"Drink this," I said gently, helping her take small, careful sips. "The healers said continued hydration would help with the smoke inhalation."

She accepted the water gratefully, her coughing gradually easing as she settled more comfortably against the pillows.

"Try to rest," I said softly, though I understood the genuine difficulty of that request given everything she'd just survived. "I'm not leaving, Nadia. I'll be right here, watching over you throughout the entire night."

"Will you," she asked quietly, something almost vulnerable in the question, "actually stay close? Not simply in the chair, but—"

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