Chapter 5
five
TOMMAS
Kit shifted in the chair, a soft groan escaping her lips as she uncurled her stiff limbs. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a moment before zeroing in on me. She blinked once, twice, awareness flooding her features, followed immediately by embarrassment. Her hand flew to her mouth, checking for drool, then to her hair, trying to tame the wild strands escaping her bun.
Fuck, she was adorable when caught off guard.
“How long have you been awake?” she asked, her voice husky from sleep, that slight rasp sending heat straight through me despite my condition.
With D headed home to shower and Gio and Marco out picking up breakfast, it was just me and my Omega in our own little bubble.
“Long enough to ogle you properly.” I smirked, trying for my usual playful tone despite the roughness in my throat. “The view from this bed isn’t half bad when it includes a beautiful woman.”
Kit rolled her eyes, but the flush spreading across her cheeks told me my words hit their mark. She always responded to my flirting, even when she pretended to be exasperated by it. That blush was one of my favorite things in the world—the way it started at the hollow of her throat and worked its way up to stain her cheeks, turning her creamy skin into something warm and pretty.
“I must look awful,” she muttered, fingers self-consciously tugging at her— my —oversized sweatshirt, eyes avoiding mine as she tried to fix her messy bun. “I haven’t had a real shower in two days. Just those awful bathroom sink wash-ups.”
My heart clenched at the admission. I knew she hadn’t left the hospital. Had spent days sleeping in that torture device they called a chair, or worse, on that board of a cot in the corner. She’d only left my side to wash up with a sponge bath, and had been picking at her food, living off far too much of that vending machine garbage.
“Come here,” I said, holding out my hand.
She hesitated, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth. “You should rest. The doctor said—”
“Fuck what the doctor said. I need you close.”
I’d lost too much time, stuck in darkness and pain for too damn long, holding on to the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand in mine. Now that I was fully conscious, I needed more. Needed her warmth, her scent, the solid reality of her to anchor me.
Kit’s expression softened, her resistance melting away. She stood, and I got my first full look at her in the daylight. My breath caught in my throat. She’d lost weight—too much weight. The sweatshirt hung from her frame, and even her leggings seemed looser than they’d been before. Her cheekbones seemed more prominent, her wrists more delicate.
I swallowed hard. She’d spent too much time keeping vigil by my side, neglecting her own needs to watch over me. My fierce, loyal Butterfly.
“Come here,” I repeated, more gently this time, patting the empty space beside me on the narrow hospital bed. “You need rest in an actual bed, even if this is a shitty excuse for a mattress.”
Kit’s gaze flicked to my bandaged torso. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, small and uncertain.
I gave her my best smile, the one that always worked on her, dimples and all. “You could never hurt me, Butterfly. Please?”
She approached the bed cautiously, like I might break if she moved too quickly. I reached for her hand, relieved when her fingers twined with mine.
“How should I...?” She eyed the tangle of tubes and wires connecting me to the various machines.
“Carefully,” I teased, drawing another eye roll from her. “This side is good. Just avoid the central line.”
Kit bit her lip, considering the logistics, then carefully lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. I shifted slightly, making more room, ignoring the twinge of pain the movement caused. Worth it. So fuckin’ worth it to have her close.
“Lay down,” I urged, tugging gently at her hand. “I promise I won’t break.”
With utmost care, Kit stretched out beside me, her body a tense line against my uninjured side. I could feel her holding herself rigid, afraid to relax.
“Butterfly,” I murmured, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, “I can’t enjoy having you here if you’re wound tighter than my stitches. You can relax. Please?”
She exhaled shakily, then finally, finally , allowed herself to melt against me, her head finding the familiar spot on my shoulder, her arm draping carefully across my chest well above the bandages. The warmth of her body against mine was like a balm, soothing aches I hadn’t even realized I had.
I breathed in deeply, savoring her scent—that mix of dark ethereal moss and moonflowers that had captivated me from the first moment I laid eyes on her—though it was muted now, undercut by the sterile hospital smell and whatever scent neutralizing lotion was left on her skin. Still, it was Kit. My Omega. My home.
“Better,” I sighed, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “ Much better.”
Kit made a small sound of contentment, her body growing heavier against mine as she allowed herself to truly relax for what was probably the first time in days.
“I was so scared, Tommy,” she whispered against my chest, so quietly I almost missed it. “There was so much blood. And you wouldn’t wake up, not really. You’d open your eyes sometimes, but you weren’t really there.”
My arm tightened around her. “I’m here now, Butterfly. Not going anywhere.”
She shifted slightly, tilting her face up to look at me, those ice-blue eyes bright with unshed tears. “Promise?”
My heart fuckin’ cracked open at the vulnerability in that single word. Kit, who’d been abandoned, mistreated, or betrayed by everyone who should have protected her, who’d learned the hard way that promises were just empty words—was asking me for one, anyway. Trusting me despite everything.
I cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing over the delicate skin beneath her eye, wiping away a tear before it could fall. “I promise, Butterfly. You’re stuck with me.”
Something in her expression eased, and I leaned down, ignoring the pull of stitches, and pressed my lips to hers.
The kiss was gentle, chaste almost—nothing like our usual hungry exchanges—but no less powerful for it. Her lips were slightly chapped from dehydration, but still soft. Still perfect. She sighed against my mouth, her hand coming up to rest against my jaw, fingertips as light as butterfly wings.
It was an apt description. Everything about my mate was delicate, and gentle, and so fuckin’ beautiful.
When we parted, I kept my face close to hers. Studying her. Counting each tiny freckle. Tracing the faintest scar above her left eyebrow. Memorizing the bow of her upper lip. I committed it all to memory, storing away the details like I was hoarding treasure.
“What?” she questioned self-consciously, her cheeks pinking under my steadfast attention.
“Just reminding myself how lucky I am. Despite everything, I got to wake up to you. You’re my miracle, Kit.”
Her flush deepened, but she held my gaze this time, letting me see the emotion swirling through her eyes. “I’m the lucky one,” she insisted. “You didn’t leave. You fought so hard to come back to me.”
I brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Always will, Butterfly. Always .”
She settled back against my shoulder, her warm breath fanning across my neck. I could feel the exhaustion radiating from her, the deep bone-weariness she’d been fighting all week. Now, safe in my arms, it was overtaking her.
“Sleep.” I stroked her hair, petting her gently, hoping the soothing touch would help her drift off. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Kit mumbled something incoherent, already drifting off, her body growing heavier against mine by the second. I smiled, pressing another kiss to the top of her head, breathing her in.
This— her —was what I’d fought to live for. What I’d continue fighting for. My Omega. My future. My very reason for breathing.
Rocco and his threats, the pain in my abdomen, the long recovery ahead—none of it mattered in this moment. Only Kit, warm and alive against me, trusting me enough to finally rest. I’d failed to protect her once, but never again. I’d heal. I’d get stronger. And then I’d make sure no one ever threatened her again.
But for now, I was content to hold her while she slept, to be her shelter as she had been mine. To guard her dreams as fiercely as she had guarded my life.