Page 35 of Knotting the Firefighters
Control.
Professional demeanor.
"Do you have options?" The question emerges calmer than I feel. "For temporary pack arrangements?"
Her laugh transforms—genuine this time, carrying dark amusement at some private joke.
"Well, unless I crawl back to my ex-pack and beg forgiveness for the crime of not dying when they wanted me to, fuck no."
The vulgarity sounds natural coming from her, completely at odds with the vintage aesthetic but perfectly aligned with the fierce competence she radiates.
"What about Hayes?"
The question emerges before I fully consider its implications, curiosity overriding caution because I genuinely want to understand their dynamic, want to map the territory before accidentally stepping on landmines.
Wendolyn smirks—expression shifting into something complicated, affectionate, tinged with resignation.
She reaches for her phone, scrolling briefly before turning the screen toward me. The notification panel is absolutely buried under messages, missed calls, voicemails—all from the same contact.
"My lovely sole Alpha," she says, voice carrying wry affection, "is more of a situationship. Neither of us intended for it to evolve into this possessive friends-with-benefits arrangement, but Hayes doesn't have a pack, and I don't have Alphas yet."
She sets the phone down, fingers absently moving through golden fur while she continues.
"Obviously, it'll have to end once either of us finds what we're destined for. I'm just living in the moment, enjoying what we have while it lasts." Her expression softens, vulnerability flickering across features usually guarded by humor. "Though ending up in his pack would be divine. He's truly the only Alpha I've felt genuinely safe with, if I'm being honest."
The admission lands with weight, speaks to trauma deeper than physical burns, and suggests that safety is a commodity rare enough in her experience to merit special acknowledgment.
She deserves to feel safe always.
She deserves a pack that protects rather than destroys.
She deserves?—
"Well," I interrupt my own spiraling thoughts, injecting deliberate lightness into my tone, "you haven't experienced a teddy bear hug yet, so you haven't tried all your options."
Her laugh is bright, surprised, absolutely worth the ridiculous statement that prompted it.
"Hmm, you raise an excellent point."
The smile she aims my direction does dangerous things to my cardiovascular system, makes my pulse accelerate in ways that have nothing to do with emergency response and everything to do with attraction. I'm rapidly losing any ability to suppress.
Focus, Calloway.
She needs help, not your hormones complicating everything.
I let the silence stretch while my brain works through logistics, calculating variables, assessing the proposal forming despite every logical objection my rational mind wants to raise.
"Would we be a potential option?"
Wendolyn's head tilts, curiosity evident.
"Clarification, is 'we' referring to the pack that rescued me? Both times now, apparently?"
I nod, settling more comfortably on the bed's edge because this conversation requires proper attention.
"Aidric Hawthorne, our pack Alpha, current fire captain, brooding intensity personified. Silas Grayson, pack medic, is probably currently organizing medical supplies with obsessive precision somewhere in this building. And me, the charming one who makes everyone else look socially competent by comparison."
Her smile widens at my self-deprecating humor, encouragement to continue.
