Chapter 13 #2
When he's finally close enough, I strike.
My hand shoots out, fisting in his collar and pulling him down until we're eye level. The movement pulls at my bruised ribs and makes the monitors beep alarmingly, but I don't care.
"If you're going to be tiptoeing around me like this," I whisper fiercely, maintaining eye contact so he understands I'm serious, "I'm kicking your balls when I'm out of this hospital bed and changing my suite's code."
Cale rolls his eyes—a gesture that says as if that's going to stop me—but there's something vulnerable beneath the bravado.
I let my expression soften, replacing aggression with need.
One look. That's all it takes.
His carefully maintained control crumbles like tissue paper.
He's kissing me before my next breath, mouth crashing against mine with desperate intensity. Fierce and claiming and completely at odds with the gentle touches Elias provided earlier.
I hook my arms around his neck, fingers threading through his dark hair as I pull him closer. Force him to stay despite the awkward angle and the medical equipment and the fact that we're absolutely not supposed to be doing this in a hospital room.
The kiss tastes like burnt cedar and coffee and something uniquely Cale—bitter and sweet and achingly familiar.
We're both breathless when we finally break apart, gasping for air while our foreheads rest together.
"Fuck," Cale curses quietly, the word ghosting across my lips. "I can't fucking think with the idea of someone else obsessing over you. Can't stop obsessing over you myself."
His voice drops lower, more vulnerable than I've heard it in months.
"I'm tiptoeing around this shit because I don't want to ruin this for you," he admits, eyes squeezed shut like the confession is being pulled from somewhere deep and painful.
"You've patiently waited for a pack. For someone who's actually your scent match instead of just..
. compatible. So I can't interfere with that. "
He takes a shuddering breath.
"But fuck, Aurora. I love you far too much to just let go."
The admission hangs in the air between us, heavy with implication.
I love you.
Words we've never said. Never dared to say because saying them makes this real, makes it more than just casual fucking and complicated friendship.
My heart does something complicated in my chest—squeezing and expanding simultaneously.
"Why do you have to let me go?" I murmur, searching his grey eyes for answers.
He pulls back slightly, confusion written across his features.
"What?"
"Why do you have to let me go?" I repeat, voice stronger now. "Who said anything about letting go?"
"Rory—" He starts using my alias, then catches himself. "Aurora. They're your scent match."
"And?"
The single word challenge hangs between us.
"And I'm not," Cale says, like this should be obvious. "I'm not your scent match. My pheromones don't call to yours on that biological level. I can't give you what he can give you."
"So?" I tighten my grip on his collar, refusing to let him retreat into self-pity. "Just because you're not scent-matched doesn't mean you can't also be an Alpha in my pack."
Cale stares at me like I've grown a second head.
"That's not how it works," he says slowly. "Packs are built around scent matches. The biological compatibility. I'm not in a pack myself, and they're not going to let some random Alpha join theirs just because you ask nicely."
"Why not?"
The simple question clearly catches him off guard.
His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again as he searches for arguments that don't materialize.
I take advantage of his silence to reach up, stroking his cheek with the gentleness he rarely allows himself to receive. My thumb traces the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the tension there.
"If I say we're a two-in-one deal," I whisper, holding his gaze, "what's the worst that can happen?"
"I could—" He swallows hard. "You could lose your pack. They could refuse to accept me, and you'd have to choose."
I smirk, the expression feeling natural despite the heavy conversation.
"If I lose my pack because they won't accept someone I care about, then they weren't meant to be my pack anyway."
Cale processes this, emotions flickering across his face too fast to catalog.
Fear and hope and desperate longing all tangled together.
"Only if it's not problematic," he finally says, but there's less resistance in his voice now. "I'm not going to be the reason you lose something important."
I laugh—quiet and a bit breathless but genuine. "You love problematic shit."
"I do," he admits with a small smile. "But this is different. This is your future."
Instead of arguing further, he pulls me into a hug.
The movement is careful, mindful of my injuries, but the embrace is tight enough that I can feel his heart hammering against his ribs. His face buries in my neck—inappropriate given that I'm supposed to be male, but we're alone and he needs this—and his breath is warm against my skin.
"I'm so fucking lucky you're okay," he whispers directly into my ear, voice rough with emotion. "If you'd died in that crash, I would've lost my mind completely."
The raw honesty makes my chest tight.
I hug him back as best I can with IV lines and monitor wires restricting movement, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head.
"I'll get dismissed soon," I tell him, trying to inject normalcy into the moment. "Back to the garage, back to work. Everything will go back to normal."
Cale groans, the sound vibrating through both of us.
"Do you know anything about resting?"
"Fuck rest."
"Of course, that's your answer." He sighs, the exhale making my hair flutter. "Fine. But don't work too hard. Understood?"
"Understood," I agree, because it's easier than arguing, and I can always break the promise later.
Cale pulls back at a knock on the door, movements reluctant as he separates from the embrace.
We both turn to see Elias standing in the doorway, holding several takeout containers that smell absolutely divine.
The scent hits my nostrils like a physical force—something savory and rich with notes of garlic and herbs, and protein that makes my mouth water immediately. My stomach chooses that exact moment to growl like it hasn't been fed in years, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet room.
I blush, heat flooding my cheeks at the betrayal of my own body.
Elias smirks—soft and endearing behind those round spectacles.
"I guess I got here on time."
Cale immediately moves to leave, shoulders tense with that same awkward reluctance from earlier.
But I grab his hand before he can take more than a step, fingers closing around his wrist with enough pressure to stop him in his tracks.
"If this is going to work," I say clearly, looking directly at Elias so there's no confusion about my intentions, "Cale has to be included."
The words hang in the air with finality.
This is non-negotiable.
Cale's part of my life, part of whatever complicated dynamic I'm building, and if Elias's pack can't accept that, then we need to establish boundaries now before anyone gets more invested.
Elias stares at Cale for a long moment.
His soft green eyes assess, calculate, and measure in ways that probably involve complex social dynamics and pack politics that I'm too tired to consider. His scent shifts slightly—becoming more contemplative, less immediate.
Then he nods.
Just... nods.
"Sure," he says simply, like I just asked him to pass the salt instead of demanding he integrate a non-scent-matched Alpha into his pack structure.
Cale frowns, suspicion evident in every line of his body.
"Won't anyone in your pack be against it?"
Elias shrugs with that same casual grace he's displayed since I met him.
"Probably. But our Omega's happiness is a priority. If you being in the equation makes her happy, then so be it."
The matter-of-fact tone is somehow more effective than any elaborate justification could be.
Our Omega's happiness is a priority.
Such a simple statement.
A foundational truth presented like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Neither Cale nor I can formulate arguments against such straightforward logic.
"I brought food," Elias continues, stepping further into the room and setting the containers on the rolling table beside my bed. "But I need to leave soon. We were summoned for a conference—more rule announcements, apparently."
My gut drops at that information.
More rule changes mean more uncertainty. More potential for the Omega participation requirements to come back into effect. More scrutiny on teams, drivers, and crew members.
More danger of my secret being exposed.
I try not to let the anxiety show on my face, but I've never been particularly good at hiding emotions when I'm exhausted and medicated.
Elias immediately picks up on it.
He walks to my bedside without hesitation, reaching out to cup my face with both hands. The gesture is intimate and grounding, his palms warm against my cheeks while his thumbs stroke gentle patterns across my skin.
"I'll come to your garage when it's most convenient," he whispers, voice pitched low enough that it's clearly meant just for me despite Cale's presence. "I've already left my contact information with your brother, so you can message any time. Day or night."
His green eyes search mine with intensity that makes my breath catch.
"I want to formally introduce you to the pack," he continues, "but I'd like to do it when it's best for you. When it won't affect your alibi or compromise your safety. Your comfort and security come first."
The fact that he's considering the professional implications—considering how pack bonding might impact my carefully constructed double life—makes something warm and grateful bloom in my chest.
Most Alphas would demand immediate integration. Would insist that pack bonds supersede work obligations. Would expect me to prioritize biological imperatives over practical concerns.
But Elias is different.