Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Callie
The beach stretched endlessly before us, golden sand meeting turquoise water under a cloudless afternoon sky.
Blitz had chosen this spot for our date, a relatively secluded stretch of coastline an hour from the pack house, far enough from the usual influencer spots that we wouldn't be interrupted by fans or photographers.
He stood at the water's edge, waves lapping at his bare feet, looking like something out of a thirst trap compilation.
The sun turned his golden-brown skin to burnished bronze, highlighting every carefully maintained muscle.
His tank top clung to his torso in the ocean breeze, and his board shorts hung low on his hips in a way that definitely wasn't accidental.
"You're posing," I accused, approaching with my beach bag slung over one shoulder.
He turned, green eyes bright with mischief, dimples appearing as he grinned. "Always. It's basically muscle memory at this point." He flexed dramatically, biceps bulging. "Seven years of fitness content creates some hard-to-break habits."
"Is that what we're calling it?"
"Would you prefer 'strategically positioning myself for optimal aesthetic impact'?" He grabbed my beach bag before I could protest, carrying it to where he'd already set up an umbrella and blankets. "Because Nova helped me workshop that phrase for my media kit."
The setup was surprisingly thoughtful, a large umbrella providing shade, multiple blankets at different heights for comfort, a cooler that probably contained the meal-prepped snacks he was famous for, and even a small speaker playing something low and atmospheric.
"You actually planned this," I said, settling onto the blanket and immediately sinking my toes into the warm sand that was just outside the shade of the umbrella.
"Don't look so shocked." He dropped beside me with fluid grace, every movement unconsciously displaying his physique. "I'm more than just abs and protein shakes."
"I know that." And I did. I'd seen him during my heat, the careful strength, the surprising gentleness, the way he'd held himself back until I was ready. "That's not what this is about, is it? Proving you're more than your streaming persona?"
He was quiet for a moment, unusual for someone who filled most silences with cheerful chatter about macros and workout splits. "Maybe. I've been the hot one for so long, sometimes I forget there's more to me than that."
"Tell me about before," I said, pulling my knees up to my chest. "Before the streaming, before the muscles, before Bond Pack."
Blitz laughed, but it carried something self-deprecating. "Before the muscles? I was this skinny kid who got bullied for being too white, then went to America and got bullied for being too brown. Classic identity crisis material."
He pulled out his phone, scrolling through old photos until he found what he was looking for. The image showed a gangly teenager, all knees and elbows, wearing an oversized t-shirt and a nervous smile.
"Freshman year of high school," he said. "Skinnier and absolutely terrified of everything."
I studied the photo, seeing hints of the man he'd become in the bone structure, the eyes, the smile that wasn't quite as bright yet. "What changed?"
"My sister got sick." The words came out simple, matter-of-fact, but I heard the weight beneath them. "Sophomore year. Leukemia. Treatable, thank God, but expensive. My parents were already working three jobs between them."
He stood abruptly, needing to move while he talked. I watched him pace the sand, his usual performative energy replaced by something more raw.
"I couldn't do much, but I could get strong.
Started working out so I could carry her when she was too weak to walk.
Got a job at a supplement store, learned about nutrition to help her maintain weight during chemo.
Documented everything because she said watching me grow stronger helped her feel stronger. "
"That's how your fitness content started?"
"Yeah. 'Getting Strong for Sofia.' Went viral when some big fitness influencer shared it. Suddenly I had sponsors wanting to pay for content, and that money..." He shrugged. "Hospital bills don't pay themselves."
The ocean breeze carried the salt-sweet scent of him closer, coconut and sea spray mixing with something deeper, more vulnerable than his usual projection.
"She's okay now," he added quickly. "Full remission, coming up on ten years clear. Finishing her doctorate in biochemistry because of course she's a genius on top of everything else."
"You still send money home," I said. It wasn't a question. I'd seen him calculating expenses, noticed how he lived well below what his earnings should allow.
"Family takes care of family." He finally stopped pacing, standing with his back to me, watching the waves. "But somewhere along the way, I became just the hot one. The himbo. The thirst trap guy. And it was easier to lean into that than to constantly explain that I actually have a brain."
I stood, walking to join him at the water's edge. The waves were warm against my feet, the Pacific Ocean in its gentle mood. "You know you're brilliant, right?" I looked at him hoping that he would feel the weight of my gaze and how much I meant what I'd said equally.
He glanced at me, surprise flickering across his features. "I mean, I'm good at what I do—"
"No, Blitz. You're brilliant. You speak three languages fluently. You've got a business degree you finished while caring for your sister. You understand biomechanics and nutrition at a level that rivals some doctors. You just hide it behind the abs and the dimples."
"The abs and dimples get views," he said, but his voice had gone soft. "Smart doesn't sell the way six-packs do."
"Maybe not. But smart is what made you build that gym attachment to the nest. Smart is what helped you recognize exactly what my body needed during heat. Smart is what makes you more than just a pretty face."
He turned to face me fully, and for once, he wasn't posing. No strategic angles, no conscious display. Just Eli Reyes, vulnerable and real.
"You see me," he said, wonder in his voice.
"We all do. Ghost might not say it, but he respects your technical knowledge about streaming equipment. Nova consults you on business strategies all the time. Milo asks for your nutrition advice. Crash... well, Crash thinks you're a god, but that's just because you can bench press him."
That earned a real laugh, bright and unguarded. "He keeps asking me to do it on stream."
"Of course he does."
We stood there for a moment, feet in the surf, and I realized this was the first time we'd been alone together without the heat-haze of biology driving us. No pack watching, no cameras rolling, no performance needed.
"Want to swim?" he asked suddenly.
"I didn't bring a suit."
His grin turned wicked. "I may have asked Milo to pack you one. It's in the bag. Along with snacks, water, and SPF 50 because your pale aesthetic burns faster than Ghost when someone mentions social interaction."
I laughed, heading back to check the bag. Sure enough, there was a simple black two-piece that was actually my style rather than something chosen for maximum skin exposure.
"Turn around," I ordered.
"We literally spent three days naked together," he protested, but turned anyway, giving me privacy to change.
I sent silent thanks to the universe that the beach was empty as I changed.
Once I'd switched into the swimsuit, I found him stripped down to just his board shorts, and dear god, the man was a work of art.
Not just the muscles, though those were impressive, but the way he moved with complete comfort in his body, the un-self-conscious joy in his physicality.
"Race you," I said, and took off running before he could respond.
He caught me easily, of course, scooping me up just as the waves hit our knees. I shrieked as he spun us both, dunking us in the ocean with a laugh that echoed across the water.
We played like kids, bodysurfing, splash fights, diving under waves. He taught me to read the currents, showed me how to time the waves for maximum ride. His hands steadied me when I lost balance, always respectful, never lingering longer than necessary.
"This is what I missed," he said during a lull, both of us floating on our backs, letting the ocean hold us. "Just playing. No metrics, no engagement rates, no perfect form. Just fun."
"When did you stop having fun?"
"When it became my job. When my family's medical bills depended on maintaining my image.
When every workout became content instead of joy.
" He turned his head to look at me, water droplets catching the sunlight on his lashes.
"But with the pack, with you, I'm remembering what it feels like to just exist in my body without performing. "
A larger wave rolled in, and he pulled me against him to keep us stable. The contact sent heat through me that had nothing to do with the sun, his solid warmth a contrast to the cool ocean.
"I should probably mention," I said against his shoulder, "this is working."
"What's working?"
"Whatever your actual goal was for this date. The chemistry thing. It's definitely confirmed."
His hands tightened on my waist, and I felt him inhale sharply. "That wasn't... I didn't plan this to seduce you."
"I know." I pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "That's why it's working."
He kissed me then, tasting of salt water and sunshine, his hands tangling in my wet hair. It was different from our heat-fevered encounters, slower, more intentional. When we broke apart, both breathing hard, his eyes had gone dark with want.
"We should probably—" he started.
"Get out of the water before we scandalize the fish?"
"Something like that."
We made our way back to shore, where he immediately wrapped me in a towel like I was something precious. The gesture was so careful, so contrary to his usual casual physicality, that it made my chest tight.
"Tell me about your family," I said as we settled back on the blankets, letting the sun dry us.
His face lit up as he talked about his three sisters, his mom who could guilt-trip in three languages, his dad who cried at every milestone. He showed me photos of family gatherings where everyone talked over each other, food piled high, cousins everywhere.
"They want to meet you," he admitted. "My mom's already planning the menu. Fair warning, she'll feed you until you can't move, then be offended you didn't eat more."
"Sounds like Milo's kind of person."
"They'll either bond over feeding people or have an epic battle for kitchen dominance." He paused, suddenly serious. "Would you want that? To meet them?"
The question carried weight. Meeting family meant something, meant we were more than just biology and proximity.
"Yeah," I said softly. "I'd like that."
His smile could have powered the city, dimples on full display. "They'll love you. My sisters are already half in love from your streams. They say you're savage in the best way."
We talked as the afternoon wore on, sharing stories and fears and dreams that had nothing to do with streaming or pack dynamics.
He told me about wanting to open a community gym someday, free for kids who couldn't afford training.
I told him about my fear of becoming my mother, letting biology override choice.
"You're nothing like that," he said firmly. "You chose us. Every day, you keep choosing us. That's the opposite of giving up control."
As the sun started setting, painting the sky in oranges and pinks, he pulled me against his side. No performance in it, just comfort and growing affection.
"Thank you," I said.
"For what?"
"For letting me see Eli, not just Blitz."
He pressed a kiss to my temple, his voice soft. "Thank you for wanting to see him."
The drive home was comfortable, his hand finding mine over the center console, thumb tracing patterns on my palm. Sandy and sun-tired, we looked like any couple returning from a beach day, not an Alpha and Omega navigating the complexities of modern pack dynamics.
When we got back to the house, the others were in the living room, and they all looked up with knowing smiles.
"Beach was good?" Nova asked, though our sun-kissed skin and sandy everything made it obvious.
"Beach was perfect," I confirmed, heading toward my room to shower.
"Callie?" Blitz called after me.
I turned back.
"Same time next week? I was thinking hiking. Or rock climbing. Something where we can just... play."
"It's a date," I said, and meant it.
Because that's what these individual dates were really about, not confirming physical attraction, which was obvious, but discovering who we were beyond our designations, our brands, our biological imperatives.
Learning to play together, to be vulnerable, to choose each other for reasons that had nothing to do with scent matches and heat cycles.
And Blitz? He was definitely worth choosing.