Page 138 of Knot So Lucky
~AURORA~
Consciousness returns slowly, like wading through honey.
My eyelids feel weighted, each blink requiring effort that seems disproportionate to the simple act of opening my eyes. The world filters in gradually—soft light, clean sheets, the particular quality of silence that suggests late afternoon or early evening rather than morning.
I sit up slowly, every muscle protesting the movement.
Fuck.
My body is sore in ways I didn't know were possible. Deep muscle aches that speak to days of sustained physical activity. My thighs burn. My core feels simultaneously satisfied and abused. Even my jaw is tender, which creates questions I'm not sure I want answered right now.
But underneath the soreness is something else.
Contentment.
Pure, bone-deep contentment that settles over me like a warm blanket, making the aches feel distant and manageable.Like my body is saying "yes, you're damaged, but you'resatisfiedand that's what matters."
It's disorienting as fuck.
I blink slowly, trying to orient myself in space and time. The room is unfamiliar—not my penthouse, not the hospital, somewhere new with clean white walls and minimal furniture. Safe house, my sluggish brain supplies. Someone secured a safe house for my heat.
How long was I out?
The memories are fragmented, dreamlike. Flashes of sensation more than coherent narrative. Heat and need and overwhelming biological imperatives. Multiple scents mix together. Hands on my skin. The feeling of being filled, completed,claimedin ways my Omega biology had been craving without my conscious knowledge.
I feel so at peace it's almost a mind fuckery.
Because Aurora Lane doesn't do "at peace." I do controlled chaos, strategic stress, and carefully managed anxiety that keeps me sharp and focused. Peace is for people who don't have secrets to maintain or identities to protect.
Yet here I am, sitting in an unfamiliar bed in what's probably the aftermath of my first heat, feeling more content than I have in years.
What the actual fuck?
Movement in the blankets catches my attention.
I follow it slowly, my mind still sluggish and not quite comprehending what I'm seeing. There's a lump near my feet, shifting under the covers in a way that's too deliberate to be random.
The blob of movement pauses, then a small black head pops out from under the blanket.
"Meow!"
I blink a few times, as if my brain needs multiple attempts to process the image.
It's the kitten.
The tiny black ball of chaos that started this entire disaster by wandering onto the test track.
The reason Elias ran into danger.
The reason I crashed trying to save them both.
The kitten that somehow survived all that and is now apparently living in my bed.
A smile tugs at my lips—slow and genuine and completely involuntary.
I reach out carefully, movements still uncoordinated, and the kitten immediately responds. Rolls onto its back with the kind of trust that only young animals possess, exposing its soft belly while purring loudly enough that I can hear it from here.
My fingers make contact with impossibly soft fur, and the purring intensifies.
