Page 70 of Claimed By the Damned
Bastian steps forward, his presence solid, unshakable. “You won’t do this alone, Little One,” he says, voice steady. No hesitation, no uncertainty. A simple fact.
Lila makes a sound—small, almost strangled—and it guts me. She doesn’t believe us. Not fully.
Then Ryker moves. No jokes, no deflection, just him crouching down in front of us, his hands coming to rest lightly on her thighs. “You’re not getting rid of us that easily, Baby Girl.” His voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “No matter how scared you are, no matter what’s running through your head right now, you need to get one thing straight.” He lifts a hand, presses his palm gently over her stomach. “This? You? You’re ours. And nothing changes that.”
Her breath hitches, eyes welling with more tears she’s tryingso hardto hold back but failing miserably.
I pull her trembling body closer, and she shatters against me. A broken sound rips from her lips—half sob, half gasp—and she clings to me with desperate strength, her fingers digging into my chest as if afraid I’ll dissolve if she loosens her grip. I wrap my arms tighter around her small frame, tucking her head under my chin, surrounding her with my warmth.
Bastian moves towards us, his solid presence a tangible anchor on her other side. One large hand smooths firmly down her back, a steady, grounding pressure that speaks volumes. He leans in close, his lips brushing her temple in a brief, possessive kiss before whispering directly into her ear, his voice a low, calming rumble meant only for her: "You're safe now, Little One. Nothing harms you or our baby. Daddy promises."
Before she can even fully register his quiet vow, Ryker moves, closing the last remaining space, effectively boxing her in with our bodies. His arms wrap tightly aroundus, pulling her flush against him from behind, his forehead resting heavily against the crown of her head, his breath ruffling her hair. We hold hertogether, a solid wall of muscle and warmth and unwavering intent.
Between my chest, Bastian's side, Ryker's front, we've got her enveloped, cushioned. Our scents mingle with the salt of her tears, the murmur of Bastian's low reassurances blending with the rough hitch of Ryker's breathing and the steady thud of my own heart against her ear.
We make sure shefeelsit —knows she's surrounded, protected. Ours.
We’re not going anywhere.
She lets out a shaky breath, and when she finally speaks, it’s barely more than a whisper. “I was so scared. I thought… maybe you’d be angry.”
I shake my head, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “You don’t have to be. Not with us. We will never be angry with you over something like this.”
Bastian hums his agreement. “We’ll figure this out together.”
Ryker huffs a laugh, though it’s more breath than sound. “Yeah. And I call dibs on teaching the kid how to throw a punch.”
Lila lets out something between a sob and a laugh, and it’s the best thing I’ve heard in days.
We hold her tighter.
She’s ours. And we’re hers.
No matter what comes next.
Lila melts into us, the tension slowly draining from her body as she lets herselffeel—lets herself believe that she isn’t alone in this. Her fingers clutch at my shirt, grounding herself, and I can feel the faint tremble in her breath against my chest. I press my lips to her forehead, lingering there as I whisper, “We’ve always got you, Angel.”
Bastian’s hand rests on her back, steady, grounding. “No matter what happens, we take care of our own,” he murmurs, a quiet vow that carries more weight than any grand declaration.
Ryker exhales slowly, his fingers brushing over her arm, his usual bravado stripped away in this moment. “Shit, Baby Girl,” he mutters, voice rough. “You scared the hell out of us.”
She lets out a small, shaky laugh at that, the sound almost fragile. But it’s real. It’sher.And it tells me that she’s finally starting to understand—we’re not going anywhere.
Bastian pulls back slightly, glancing towards the house. “Let’s get inside,” he suggests. “You need to be warm and comfortable.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and for once, Lila doesn’t fight him.
Before I even make a move to stand with Lila still cradled against me, Ryker steps forward, muttering, "Right, move it, Mercer." He bends down, effortlessly scooping Lila out of my lap and into his own arms, bridal style. She makes a small, surprised sound but doesn't protest, letting her head rest against his shoulder.
"Hey, I had her," I grumble good-naturedly, pushing myself up off the cold porch floor. "Pushy bastard."
Ryker just grunts, already turning towards the house with his precious cargo. "Yeah, well, she looks half-frozen. Faster this way."
Bastian follows Ryker inside, his hand resting briefly on the small of Lila's back as they pass through the doorway. I trail behind them, shaking my head slightly at Ryker's antics, though my chest feels tight with relief that she's letting us take care of her.
Once inside, Ryker deposits Lila gently onto the plush living room couch. Immediately, Bastian's fussing over her, tucking a soft throw blanket around her legs, checking the temperature, heading toward the kitchen presumably for the tea he seems to think fixes everything. She lets him, not even attempting to push him away, the exhaustion evident in her posture as she sinks into the cushions.
As soon as she’s settled on the couch with her tea, Bastian steps back, eyeing her carefully. Satisfied she's comfortable, he exhales through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw as if trying to rein in his temper. Then, his gaze still locked on Lila, he barks, “Grim. Get in here now.”
The man in question appears in the doorway, arms crossed, utterly unbothered. “Figured you’d be calling me in sooner or later.”
