Page 130 of Claim Me
He studies me for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced, but doesn’t push further.
"Fine. But if there are any signs of infection, redness, swelling, fever, you don’t ignore it."
"Wouldn’t dare."
Blue exhales quietly, then turns away, placing the used materials aside and methodically returning the remaining supplies back into the first aid kit. The soft clicks of plastic and metal latches snapping back into place fill the brief silence between us.
Then he slowly turns back toward me, and our eyes meet.
"Thank you for taking care of me," I say softly.
Blue’s gaze drifts over my body almost unconsciously, across my chest and stomach, then lifts again.
"You’re thanking me? I’m the one who should be thanking you for what you did today. I put you in a difficult position, leaving you as the only guard even though you asked me not to, and still you handled it. You did everything you could. You saved my life, Gabriel."
"Could you say all thatwhilekeeping your hand on my shoulder?" I blurt out.
Fuck. Did I really just say that?
He blinks slowly, clearly caught off guard, and I swear there’s a faint flush rising along his cheek.
"Please. You don’t have to do anything else. Just put your hand on my shoulder."
A long moment of silence passes. Blue slowly pushes himself away from the desk he had been leaning on and steps closer to me, lifting his small hand in a slow, almost cautious motion before placing it against my skin. I’m still half-naked, I haven’t even put my jacket back on.
"I’ll reinstate the rest of the security team," he says, his voice slightly tense, "but you need to understand they’re not people you can trust completely. That may mean more work for you, or at least increased vigilance."
"I don’t expect them to stay in direct contact with you, but at least one or two should remain on this floor at all times, in their control room, and accompany us when we go out to public places."
I can feel his hand making the smallest movements against my skin, almost imperceptible, like a soft, absentminded caress, his fingers tracing tiny circular motions.
That contact keeps me in a constant state of quiet bliss, and the only discomfort I feel is the pressure of my erection against my zipper.
"Blue, I have a question," I clear my throat. "How were you able to produce an AO sound if you don’t have the glands?"
Blue closes his eyes briefly, then lifts his other hand and bends it back slightly at the wrist.
"After my accident, I developed sepsis. It attacked my glands. The worst inflammation was in the neck glands, but there were smaller sites in the wrist glands. The doctors decided to remove the ones in my neck, but they believed the wrist glands could be treated, and they were right."
My gaze drops to his wrist, now exposed beneath the cuff, and I can see it, a small, subtle rise where the gland sits.
Almost without thinking, I reach out and take his hand from above, drawing his wrist slightly closer to my face as I inhale his scent. I’m aware that the wrist gland doesn’t produce Allure in its pure form the way the neck glands do, it releases pheromones with different functions, deepening the bonding effect in a nest, soothing a child, or calming an alpha if the omega is mated to him. The trace of Allure in it is faint, almost negligible, and that’s exactly what I’m searching for now as I breathe him in.
What surprises me is that Blue lets me. My nose brushes lightly along his skin as I take in the scent, catching delicate eucalyptus and lavender notes. They’re subtle, but still present, and even that small amount makes my head spin.
But why does even a trace of his scent hit methishard?
"Did those glands make it possible for you to hear and produce AO sounds?" I whisper, my lips close to his skin.
"Yes. They supply small amounts of hormones, just enough for me to hear them, though barely. It takes concentration, and I can produce them as well, though as you probably noticed, they’re far from perfect."
"To me, it was perfect, because it was you," I say, lifting my gaze as I pull back from his wrist. Our eyes meet.
"Gabriel…"
"I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but what I feel hasn’t changed, even if I’m not allowed to talk about it."
Blue pulls his hand free from my grip and takes a step back. The loss of contact with his skin feels wrong, almost physically painful, leaving behind a chill. I want him close again, because when he was, it felt like a high.
