I felt amazing. Not only did the glow of our shared orgasm seem to reverberate through the room, our bodies slick with sweat and semen, pressed close together, but I knew I was safe. I felt powerful. It was a sort of agency, to decide what to do with my body, to take pleasure without fear. I wondered how many omegas got to feel that.

"The key is in my drawer," Ben murmured, his low voice even more growly in his throat after sex. I shivered at the sound of it, giving him a huge smile. I dug out the key, sliding it into the lock and freeing my alpha from his bonds.

My alpha. What a strange thought. Was that just a natural consequence of being so close to an alpha, smelling him, having something so close to sex? Or was there really something special about Ben? I had sensed it from the beginning, but there was too much going on in my life compared to my minimal experience with the world. I couldn't quite focus for long enough to figure it out. Had fate brought us together?

Ben was huge, at least compared to me, but I thought even for an alpha wolf. Muscle bound, with a softer layer on top from his years away from the military, his strong body created the perfect cushion for me to rest my weary head upon. I curled up into him, letting his arms surround me, protect me, touch me.

He slid his fingers through my hair, thick and calloused, rubbing gently over my scalp. I moaned softly in assent. He could touch, and I might never want him to stop touching. I knew him like I knew nobody else. I knew his soul. Was that how it was supposed to be?

Twice, he had let me take control. I knew how rare that was, an alpha who could put another first.

When Ben began to snore again, I turned my head to gaze up at him, to admire his cheekbones, his strong jaw, the way his thick brow relaxed innocently when he slept. He wasn't the picture of the man I thought I'd fall for. He wasn't the picture of safety and independence that I had imagined. Somehow, he was everything I needed, anyway.

I slept past dawn and woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. Stretching, refusing to open my eyes to the sun, I felt the cotton sheets and realized I was in an empty bed. At some point, Ben must have extracted himself from beneath me, because I was sure he'd been my pillow for most of the night.

I reached blindly up for a pillow and dragged it in under my head to replace him, inhaling his familiar scent. That scent made me forget about everything else, just for a little while, and I just needed a few more minutes of sleep, to cling to the peace my body felt in his warm bed, my naked body bathed in mid-morning light. If I didn't wake up, nothing bad could happen. I could remain happy forever. Happy. When had that happened?

"James, wake up," Ben barked rudely, and I actually jumped, shoving my body up from the mattress guiltily, one hand palm-first to propel me away from the gravity of the bed, the other still hugging his pillow, clinging to it like a beloved stuffed animal. Only I wasn't a child, all of my stuffed animals were hidden in my closet, and I wasn't at home, and Ben glared down at my naked body, a different person wearing his face than the one I had fallen asleep with.

I blinked blearily at him, and he shook something in my face.

"James, what the hell?"

I struggled through the heavy fog of sleep that still held reign over my mind, my heart pounding. Eventually, the adrenaline pumped through my veins to my brain, and everything snapped into technicolor focus.

The towel. My broken, soaking wet phone inside, revealed in Ben's palm.

"Why did you hide your phone under my sink in a wet towel?" he asked seriously, and I had to admit the behavior seemed especially bizarre in the disarming glare of daylight.

"I...uh..." I took a deep breath, fighting tears. Where should I begin? Would Ben leave? Should I even tell him, or should I try to lie? "I can explain," I whispered, trembling. I had never seen him like this. To me, he looked furious. He had brought me into his house for one night, and I had already angered him.

It all looked the same to me, frustration, fear, confusion, annoyance. It all looked like anger. It was really just proof of how unequipped I actually was. The drop, from so high to so low, as I began to believe that I'd destroyed my chances with the only man I actually wanted to have a chance with, was too much for me to handle. My mental state began to spiral, and even as I tried to find words to explain, they were replaced with soft sobs, as the fear I had felt the night before, the loneliness, the target on my back, came back with visceral pain.

Being yelled at first thing, it had shaken me. It reminded me of home, of the mansion, of the room where I had spent every day of my miserable childhood and adolescence, to being woken for morning lessons loudly and abruptly, only to be admonished for not having myself dressed. My whole life, people had started their day angry at me, telling me I was precious but treating me as a burden. I couldn't. I couldn't take Ben being angry, too.

I couldn't even see his face anymore. It was blurred behind my tears, and I had curled into myself protectively, all pride gone in place of a quickly dissolving, spineless little boy. I could see myself from afar, and I was ashamed, but I couldn't make it stop. My body didn't seem to know how to do anything else. I had shut down.

I had to explain. I just had to make my lips move, and tell him something, but my voice was raw and empty, my words silent, my lips trembling loosely around unformed sentences. It was impossible.

Finally, I lifted my head, begging him to see. I searched for his gaze with my own, because all I could do was implore him for forgiveness. I didn't even think to ask for help, but he was already there, leaning in, wrapping his strong arms around me. The broken cellphone and wet towel sat next to me on the bed. He must have put them down when I had begun to cry.

The thought comforted me, and I stared at them as I managed the strength to hug him back, and his warmth gave me the words to say, "I'm sorry."

"Shhh," he whispered against my ear. "Shhh. Just breathe. We can talk about it later."

He spoke gently, as if I had nothing to apologize for, and I found myself deeply confused. Hadn't he been angry? My tears had never stopped anyone's anger before. He stroked my back, soothing me. Was he making up for yelling, or had I panicked too soon? Was it possible I had misinterpreted his loud, questioning voice?

As I relaxed, my trembling slowed to a stop, and I pulled back to wipe at my eyes. He reached for me, his hand toward my face, and I flinched.

A gentle, calloused thumb pushed the tears off of my cheek. His lips replaced it softly. He pressed his forehead to mine, and we took a deep, slow breath, in sync. I almost smiled. How had he done that? I could think again. He had pulled me back to dry land, peace came over me. Just from his reassurance.

"Please don't be scared of me," he whispered. "I'm sorry I yelled."

When was the last time someone had apologized to me?

I shook my head, moving my heavy tongue inside of my mouth. I had to say something.

"It's a lot," I admitted, finally. "And I don't know where to start."

Ben pulled back and squinted a bit, watching my mouth. I realized he was reading my lips. I had been whispering, and he'd had his eyes closed. I repeated myself, a little louder, and was rewarded with an understanding smile that put me at ease. Even if Ben had been angry, I realized, his anger was a different beast than that of those I'd known before. He wouldn't let his anger hurt me. He was too good. So, so good. My heart ached.

"It's okay," he assured me. "Let's eat breakfast."

I touched his strong wrist, gazing into his eyes, and then nodded silently. That would give me time to think, and decide what I wanted to tell him, and how. I was relieved that he was so understanding, especially because I got the impression that I wasn't making myself very easily understood. He stood up, and I immediately missed his presence.

"Where are you going?" I asked, remembering to raise my voice a little because he wasn't looking at me.

He gave me a grin. "Hey, that was pretty good, I actually heard you that time. I'm just getting you clothes, babe."

Babe. I loved the way he called me that, the way his mouth caressed the word. I smiled, and he grinned at me, his brown eyes sparkling with affection.

"I thought you were my bodyguard, not my boyfriend."

Ben shrugged. "I don't usually do commitment,' he admitted.

Usually? Did that mean he was considering it with me? What would this commitment even be, in theory? What would it mean? I'd never been in a relationship, at all.

"I guess you could say neither do I," I agreed. "But I like spending time with you."

"Well, luckily," Ben said, tossing me a t-shirt and underwear from my suitcase. "You're going to get to spend a lot of time around me. At least until you feel safe."

I sighed in relief, relaxing as I clothed myself. It felt more equal that way, with both of us wearing clothes. I had power again. I could run, leave, if I wanted to. He brought me a pair of my jeans, too, and I pulled them on.

"You know that none of your clothes fit you, right?" he asked gently.

I blinked up at him. "They don't?" That hadn't occurred to me. "I can put them on."

"Well, they're not too small," he laughed. "They're too big. And just...wrong. Have you never bought your own clothes before?"

I shook my head. This year had been my first time picking clothes, buying groceries, getting a haircut. None of it had gone completely smoothly.

He kissed my forehead as I stood up from the bed. I liked how much taller he was, my lips quirked into a tiny, sad smile at the affection.

"I'll help you," he promised.

"We'll see," I pointed out, "what you have to say when you hear my full story."

Apparently, I had already decided. I was going to tell him the entire truth, as soon as I had food in my stomach, enough to summon the bravery I would need to put it all out on the line. This was where Ben got the chance to tell me it was too much baggage, and that he couldn't be my bodyguard, maybe that he couldn't even be my friend. But talking to him, having muscular arm around my shoulders as he brought me to the breakfast table, I found I had no choice. I couldn't imagine being anything but honest.

I glanced around, searching for his roommates. Didn't he live with a lot of people?

"Everyone left for work," he said, as if reading my mind. "The bacon is all for you."

There was a huge plate of bacon, and a bowl of cold scrambled eggs, and generously salted hash browns, and toast, cut into triangles. Ben was serious about breakfast. I filled my plate and ate quietly, drinking coffee slowly. Biding my time. The food gave me energy, filled my stomach so that it didn't roll in protest whenever I thought about confessing that I had a very rich stalker who thought I belonged to him. Who probably, under some sort of unofficial shifter law or code, did have a claim to me. I lathered my toast in jam, giving myself a sugar rush, and downed my coffee, fortifying with caffeine.

I was ready, as ready as I was going to be, and Ben had so patiently waited, eating quietly across from me and barely even staring, although I caught his eyes on me a few times throughout the meal.

It was actually Ben who spoke first.

"I shouldn't have woken you up like that," he said quietly, the guilt weighing on him heavy in his voice. "I really am sorry. I just got pretty worried. When you're ready, can you tell me why you broke your phone? The rest is up to you. You don't have to tell everything if you don't want to."

Just knowing that it was an optional made it no option at all. Ben was so good and honest and wonderful to me.

"I got a phone call from someone I've been trying to avoid," I admitted. "In the middle of the night. And I..."

"Got scared?" Ben asked knowingly.

I nodded.

He took a deep breath. “How much have I told you about my own past?”

I shrugged. “Not much. I know you were military. I know your hearing was damaged.”

His face, usually jovial and warm, became grim.

“It’s more than that.”