Chapter 199: I’m Scared, Kain

I turned in his hold, my arms wrapping tightly around his broad torso as I buried my face into the crook of his neck.

​He was right. My body was spent, battered by the high-stakes physical demand of the game, the rising strain of the pregnancy, and the heavy emotional wrecking ball of the night. I was a mess.

But hearing the quiet, agonized restraint in his voice made my chest ache far worse than any physical pain.

​Reid was holding back because he blamed himself. Deep down, beneath his fierce protection and unyielding strength, he carried the crushing weight of believing his own rut had forced this transformation upon me, systematically unraveling my body and bringing a premature end to my career.

He was punishing his own desires, sacrificing every instinct just to keep me safe, consumed by a quiet, agonizing regret for being the reason my legacy on the ice was burning down.

​"Stop doing that," I rasped softly into his skin, my fingers tightening in the back of his shirt until my knuckles turned white.

​Reid went completely still, his chest pausing beneath my cheek. "Doing what?"

​"Punishing yourself," I whispered, lifting my head just enough to look into his dark, shadowed grey eyes. "You think you ruined me, Reid. You think your rut did this, and you’re carrying the regret like it’s your fault. But I don’t regret a single second of being with you. You didn’t destroy my life—you gave me a reason to survive it."

​Reid’s jaw clenched hard, a muscle feathering along his neck as his throat worked over a tight breath. He didn’t say a word, but the sudden, desperate spike in his pine scent betrayed the raw emotion cracking through his composure.

​"I’m tired, and my body is changing," I murmured, leaning forward until my lips brushed lightly against his jaw, feeling the heavy thud of his pulse. "But I am not your victim, McCoy. Don’t look at me like I’m a tragedy you caused. Touch me because you love me, not because you’re trying to atone for something you didn’t do wrong."

​A low, ragged exhale broke from Reid’s chest. His broad hand, which had been holding back with such careful, painful distance, finally shifted—his long fingers tangling gently into the hair at the back of my head, holding me flush against him as he pressed his forehead against mine.

​"Kain..." he choked out, his voice rough, thick with an overwhelming mix of devotion and quiet relief.

​"Just hold me," I whispered, closing my eyes as his arms locked around my waist, pulling me flush against his solid body.

I could hear his heart hammering against his ribs, a frantic, heavy rhythm that betrayed the sheer force of the emotion he was trying so hard to contain.

For a man who seemed entirely indestructible on the ice, standing like a brick wall against every hit the League could throw at him, his pulse sounded so fragile right now—so completely unraveled by my words.

​His chest rose and fell in jagged, shallow breaths, expanding beneath my cheek as if he were trying to pull enough air into his lungs to steady his spiraling world.

At the end of the day, he was simply 21 years old.

​"I’m scared, Kain," Reid rasped, the confession tearing out of his throat in a cracked, broken whisper that sent a shiver straight down my spine.

​His broad frame trembled—just a microscopic, quiet vibration running through his heavy shoulders, but to me, holding him this close, it felt like an earthquake.

His large hands tightened around my back, his fingers digging deep into the soft cotton of my shirt, pulling me so tightly against his core that I could feel every shuddering breath he took.

​"I’m terrified that one wrong move... one bad hit on the ice... one moment where I’m not fast enough to clear your lane, and I lose you," he choked out, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin right below my ear as he spoke. "I look at you out there, fighting through the pain, hiding what’s happening to your body, and it tears me apart inside. I feel like every time you step onto that ice, I’m letting you walk into a war you shouldn’t have to fight."

​He buried his face deeper into the notch of my shoulder, his heavy, hot breath scalding my skin as his pine scent flared—dark, thick, and raw with an overwhelming, desperate possessiveness that went far beyond an Alpha’s territorial instinct.

​This wasn’t just protective instinct anymore. This was a man utterly, helplessly in love, drowning in the terror of losing the anchor that was now holding his world together.

​I slid my hand up his spine, my fingers trailing over the heavy, solid muscle of his back until I reached the nape of his neck. I tangled my fingers in his soft, damp hair, applying a gentle, grounding pressure to hold him close, letting him feel the quiet, unyielding rhythm of my own heartbeat pressing against his chest.

​"Look at me, Reid," I whispered softly.

​He hesitated for an agonizing beat, his breathing ragged, before he slowly lifted his head. In the dim, shadowed light of the bedroom, his grey eyes were glassy, rimmed with a faint, burning red, looking up at me with an openness that shattered every drop of defense I had left.

​"You aren’t going to lose me," I rasped, my thumb reaching up to gently trace the strong line of his jawline, anchoring him to the present. "And you aren’t failing me. You’re the only reason I’m still standing out there. I’m not going into that war alone—I’m going in with you right beside me."

​I pressed a slow, firm kiss right over the heavy pulse point on his neck, feeling his hammering heart gradually begin to settle into a steady, rhythmic thud against my own.

"So, just as you want me to rely on you, also..." I whispered. "Rely on me as well."