#Chapter 50: Something to Regret

Asher When I stumbled upon Cynthia passed out on a park bench, my first instinct had been panic. Was she hurt? What was wrong? Yet her pulse beat strongly when I checked, and her breathing was deep and steady. No, she wasn’t hurt. She was asleep. Here, outside, in the open, where anyone could stumble upon her. A possessive flare shot through me. She was too exposed here. Too trusting, too vulnerable. Others could see and take what wasn’t theirs. Just as Joseph had done. Approaching her, I touched her cheek with the intention of rousing her. “Hey,” I said, gentle. “Cynthia.” She hummed in her sleep, and leaned into the warmth of my hand. How long had she been out here? Was she cold? Her skin did feel a bit chill. How tired had she been to fall asleep here? I didn’t know the answers to those questions, and that irritated me. Cynthia was mine to protect, and I was doing a piss poor job of it. Carefully, I plucked her from the park bench, scooping her up into my arms in a bri