Chapter Thirteen: After the Fire
Morning came quietly, as if the world itself knew not to disturb the peace they had found in the night.
Katherine woke slowly, blinking against the pale light filtering through the frosted window. Her limbs were heavy with the pleasant ache of being thoroughly worshipped—touched, tasted, loved.
And she wasn't alone.
Rosalie's arms were around her from behind, one hand resting just under Katherine's breasts, fingers gently curled. Her body was cool but comforting, solid and grounding. In front of her, Kate was curled close, one leg slung over Katherine's hip, her hand resting possessively on her waist, thumb stroking absently against bare skin.
She was sandwiched between them, their bodies pressed to hers like a living shield, and for a long moment, she just… breathed.
Safe.
That's what it felt like.
Safe in a way she hadn't known since before she even knew what fear was.
She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead into Kate's shoulder.
And then the panic hit.
Not loud or dramatic. Just that familiar, creeping claw at her chest—you let them in. You let them take control. You let them see you vulnerable. You let them…
Own you.
Katherine's breath caught. Her hands twitched. She tried to shift—tried to pull away—but the weight of their arms, their presence, it held her there.
Not restraining.
Just… anchoring.
"Katherine," Rosalie murmured behind her, her lips brushing against her shoulder. "You're okay."
Kate blinked awake in front of her, her eyes immediately softening when she saw the panic in Katherine's face.
"What's wrong?" Kate asked, already pulling her closer.
Katherine shook her head, but her voice came out raw. "I don't… I can't breathe."
Rosalie's arms loosened instantly, but she didn't let go completely. "Do you need space?"
"I don't know," Katherine whispered.
Kate leaned in and pressed her forehead to hers. "Breathe with me."
They inhaled together. Slowly. Carefully. One breath at a time.
"I shouldn't feel like this," Katherine said, her voice tight. "It was good. You were good. It's not you, it's just—"
"It's okay," Rosalie said. "You're allowed to feel scared after being that open."
Katherine's eyes welled with tears she refused to let fall. "I don't usually let people see me like this."
"You didn't let us," Kate said softly. "You trusted us."
Katherine let out a breath that was almost a sob, and then she curled into Kate's chest.
They held her.
Rosalie's hand slid gently through her hair, nails scratching lightly over her scalp. Kate's lips brushed her temple. There was no urgency. No pressure.
Just presence.
"You're still you," Rosalie whispered. "Still in control. But you don't have to be strong all the time."
"I don't know how to not be strong," Katherine murmured.
"That's why you have us," Kate said. "So you don't have to do it alone."
Katherine didn't reply, but she pressed closer between them, letting herself sink into the comfort of their bodies, their breath, their warmth. Their love.
Being held like this—cherished—was more intimate than anything they'd done the night before. And it undid her.