Page 69 of Knot So Lucky
"I'm okay with it," I admit, and hearing the words out loud makes them real. "But you're getting a lengthy questionnaire of 'who the fuck are you' when I wake up with a bit more sense."
"Fair," he agrees easily.
"Right now I'm clearly riding impulses," I continue, feeling the need to justify this decision even as I make it. "And I'm not in the mood to try and ignore them."
Elias's quiet chuckle is the most serene sound I've ever heard.
Soft but genuine, carrying warmth that seeps into my bones better than any painkiller. It's odd to think that about someone I just met, but everything about this situation is odd.
The mattress dips as he moves with careful precision, navigating around monitors and IV lines and the various medical equipment tethering me to the bed. His movements are economical, practiced in a way that suggests either medical training or extensive experience with injury.
Then his arms are around me.
One sliding beneath my shoulders, the other settling carefully across my waist, avoiding any area that might be injured. He arranges us so my head rests against his chest, earpressed to where I can hear his heartbeat—steady and strong and reassuringly alive.
The immense calm that washes over me is immediate and absolute.
It's like every tense muscle in my body simultaneously remembers how to relax. Like the anxiety I've been carrying for years suddenly has permission to set down its burden. Like I can finallybreathewithout calculating the cost.
His scent surrounds me completely now—sandalwood and steel mixing with gasoline and vanilla in a combination that my suppressant-addled brain recognizes ashomeeven though that's impossible.
The purring intensifies, and I realize the kitten must be nearby, probably curled up somewhere on the bed, adding its own contribution to the atmosphere of safety.
I can hear monitors beeping in the background, tracking my vitals. Can feel the pull of the IV tubing when I shift slightly. Can taste the antiseptic hospital air beneath the overwhelming rightness of Elias's scent.
But none of it matters.
Because I'm wrapped in the arms of my scent match—this calm, gentle Alpha who apologizes for touching my cheek and asks permission before holding me—and my Omega instincts are practically purring louder than the kitten.
"Yup," I mutter, words slurring as sleep pulls me under with gentle insistence. "Best recovery plan ever."
Elias's chest rumbles with quiet laughter, the vibration traveling through me in ways that make me feel protected and cherished and utterly safe.
His hand traces lazy patterns on my back—soothing circles that match the rhythm of his heartbeat, grounding me in the present moment even as consciousness starts to slip away.
I should be worried about Cale and Roran finding us like this. Should be concerned about maintaining boundaries and keeping secrets, and all the complicated logistics of my double life.
Should be doing a lot of things that aren't falling asleep in a stranger's arms.
But I don't care.
Can't care when everything feelsright.
The last thing I'm aware of before darkness claims me is the steady beat of Elias's heart beneath my ear, the warmth of his arms around me, and that perfect, impossible scent that tells my Omega biology I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
Safe.
Protected.
Home.
I doze off feeling completely content for the first time in longer than I can remember.
CHAPTER 12
Territorial Disputes
~CALE~
