Chapter 50 Lucy & Asher #2
I looked up at him, a thank-you on my lips, but the words died when I saw his expression.
Tenderness, open and unashamed, softened the lines of his face.
I could see the same longing I felt in his eyes, and it made my heart stutter in my chest. Asher was looking at me like I meant everything to him.
The moment stretched between us. I never wanted it to end.
“Well," he said, clearing his throat, “looks like you'll be running marathons in no time."
“Yeah, watch out world. Lucy Graves is coming for first place,” I responded, wanting to say so much more—Do you really feel the same way? Do you like me now? Do you want me to stay?
But I didn’t say those things, and Asher moved away to stand by the window.
As the nurse bustled back to check my vitals, I couldn't shake the memory of what I'd seen in his eyes. He’d gazed at me like I was precious. Like I mattered. Like he’d never let me go.
ASHER.
My gaze had repeatedly flashed to the clock over the last half hour, willing it to slow down. My time with her had ticked by too quickly. Leaving was brutal.
"Don't worry about any of the bills," I assured Lucy. "It’s all taken care of."
She'd frowned at that, a tiny furrow appearing between her brows.
“I don’t have insurance—” she paused, cocking her head— “At least, I don’t think I do.
My medical bills have been covered by the government for a long time.
But I’m sure things are different, now that I’m—” again, she stopped abruptly, biting her lower lip, then finishing her sentence in a tiny voice— “matched with a pack.”
"You don’t have to worry about money," I'd cut her off, gentler than I would have with anyone else, but firm enough to stop further argument. “No strings attached,” I’d added as an afterthought.
We hadn’t told her outright, but Lucy was pack now, whether she fully understood what that meant or not.
I wasn’t sure when we’d tell her. I think all of us were terrified that she’d refuse to stay.
Hell, she shouldn’t stay. We’d repeatedly proven that we didn’t deserve her.
But when we did ask her to truly become our Omega, I didn’t want her to make the decision based on some bullshit idea that she owed us.
Lucy just stared at me with those electric green eyes, as if trying to see truths in my face that I couldn’t yet voice.
“You won’t be alone for long,” I breathed out, the weight of her gaze taking the wind from my lungs. “Nitro will be here soon.”
She gave me a small smile, still saying nothing.
“If he’s an asshole, let me know,” I added, turning around and darting away before I gave into the part of me that wanted to stay forever and shirk responsibilities.
I left Lucy's room with my heart beating out an almost uncomfortable staccato rhythm.
Something about her smile had gotten under my skin, burrowed past all my defenses and lodged itself somewhere between my ribs.
The image of her—silver hair tumbling over her shoulders, green eyes bright with determination despite the pain she was clearly fighting—followed me as I moved down the hospital corridor.
Fuck, I didn’t want to be away from her, but I needed to make it to Henderson before my rehearsal slot.
Yes, Nitro would be here soon, but Nitro wasn’t me.
I didn’t know if he’d treat her gently. He’d been warring with himself since the accident—oscillating between anger that she’d do something so stupid to guilt that she’d risked her life for him, of all people.
Would he lash out at her? If he did, I’d torch the bastard.
Knowing I couldn’t be there for my Omega every waking second of every damn day was torture.
Her laughter echoed in my mind, more intoxicating than any high I'd ever chased. What had I said that made her laugh earlier?
I racked my brain. It was after she’d talked about getting first place in a marathon. Something along the lines of, “I’d place a bet on that, as long as your opponents were turtles.”
The elevator doors slid open with a mechanical ping; the sound startled me, grating on my frayed nerves.
I’d been too focused on the sight of her, the smell of her, and the sound of her, causing everything around me fall to the background.
I stepped into the lift, tracing a rough hand down my face.
Splitting time between the hospital and the Cirque had left all of us ragged, but none of us had complained.
Not even once, though Nitro had come dangerously close.
He’d known when to shut the fuck up; otherwise, I think the rest of us would have beaten him to a pulp.
I jabbed the lobby button and leaned against the cool steel wall as the lift shuddered and began descending.
Floor by floor, and with great effort, I forced my mind to shift to the Cirque.
The trick I and the other fire performers hadn’t perfected yet was eating at me.
The burn was too hot, the fire flashing out before the full routine.
We still had time to get it right, though the investigation into the tent collapse was causing various hiccups across the entire operation.
By the time I walked out into the late Nevada afternoon, I had a plan I thought would solve the issue.
The day was beautiful, but I paid it no heed.
It wasn’t right for me to enjoy a blue, cloudless sky when Lucy was inside this damn hospital.
My boots smacked against the asphalt as I strode towards my bike, and I regulated my breathing to sync with that sound.
I needed to get into the right headspace before working with fire.
If I was out of control, the flame would be too.
It was warm enough today that I shrugged out of my leather jacket when I came to a stop next to my bike. The breeze against my arms was just this side of too cool, but I didn’t put the coat back on.
Sixty degrees out, Spring trying to force its way back into the desert air. Spring isn’t allowed to come while Lucy is stuck in there, I randomly thought. It made sense though—how can flowers bloom when the sunshine is caged?
I threw my jacket into one of the saddlebags with practiced ease and swung my leg over the seat, settling into the familiar feel of leather and metal.
I was exhausted and hollowed-out from having more feelings than I’d ever experienced in my life hemorrhage out of me over the last week.
But my hands found the grips, muscle memory taking over as I brought the engine roaring to life.
The vibration traveled up my arms, through my chest, momentarily drowning out that bone deep tired I was feeling.
Before I pulled out of the parking lot, my gaze drifted back to the hospital.
I had no idea which window was Lucy’s. Hell, it was probably on the other side of the building, considering that’s where the damn garden was located.
Yet, knowing she was somewhere inside made my body tense, and my instincts scream at me to race back to her without hesitation.
The distance between us—walls and floors and doors in the way of a reunion—felt so fucking wrong.
My fingers tightened on the handlebars until my knuckles blanched white.
This protectiveness was overwhelming. And it was something I didn’t know I was desperately missing.
Lucy. My Luce. Our Omega. The parts of me that had shifted, to fit around the woman who’d changed my world, could never return to their original place.
I'd been the one to find her, to dig through canvas and splintered wood with my bare hands until they bled. The sight of her limp body, her silver hair matted with dust, and her too-pale skin splattered with crimson, had unleashed something savage in me. I’d wanted to lift her out of the rubble, to carry her to safety, but then I’d seen the flagpole sticking out of her body.
That was a terror I’d never known before. That moment had nearly killed me.
The memory sent a fresh surge of rage through me.
My blood felt like it was boiling beneath my skin, demanding an outlet, a target.
I needed to burn something, destroy something, channel this furious energy before it consumed me from within.
All week, I’d fought a constant battle between maintaining control and giving in to the violent impulses that rose whenever I thought about how close we'd come to losing her.
The debris from the tent collapse was still piled in the Cirque parking lot, waiting for the insurance adjusters to finish their final documentation before it could be hauled away.
The broken poles, the shredded canvas, the twisted metal supports—all of it a physical reminder of what had nearly taken Lucy from us. From me.
I revved the engine, the motorcycle's growl matching the one building in my chest. I could picture it clearly: dousing that pile of wreckage in gasoline, watching the flame catch and spread, consuming everything that had dared to hurt her.
The image was so vivid I could almost feel the heat against my face, smell the acrid smoke, hear the satisfying crack and pop of destruction.
Yes. That's exactly what I would do. Once the Cirque was empty tonight, once everyone had gone home, I would turn that pile of wreckage to ash. A warning to the universe that anything—anything—that threatened Lucy would face my wrath.
I pulled out of the parking lot, the bike responding to the slightest pressure like an extension of my body. The wind whipped past me, doing nothing to cool the heat building inside me. The road stretched before me, a black ribbon leading away from the hospital, from Lucy, and toward the Cirque.
As the hospital disappeared in my rearview mirror, I made a silent promise.
I thought it for her, for myself, and for whatever cosmic force might be listening.
Anything that hurts her will burn. I’ll make sure of it.
And maybe, when the flames died down and the smoke cleared, I'd understand the feelings inside me.
The ones that grew stronger with each smile Lucy offered.
But first, fire.