Chapter 11 #2
I watch his face for disgust or disbelief or the particular kind of prurient interest that makes my skin crawl.
Instead, I just see focused attention. Concern. Carefully controlled anger that's not directed at me.
"My parents wanted me to embrace the male persona.
I'd always given off those vibes at a young age—more comfortable in pants than dresses, preferred playing with cars instead of dolls, all the stereotypical stuff.
" I take a shaky breath. "But it only seemed to get worse after the incident.
I didn't want to look like a female unless it could be used as an advantage.
A disguise more than embracing my true self. "
Elias's hand has stilled on my cheek, but he hasn't pulled away.
The warmth of his palm grounds me, keeps me from spiraling completely into the memories I'm dredging up.
"I don't know how Dante could have gotten that information," I admit, frustration bleeding into my voice. "But he probably realized I could have been the one to take his place in the online race this morning. He was mad, so maybe he did some research and found the report."
The pieces are fitting together in my drug-addled brain with surprising clarity.
"The only place that information would be available is in my health records.
But him accessing those is against multiple privacy regulations.
He had to have done some serious digging.
" I huff, the sound weak but indignant. "I guess he didn't find proof I'm actually female when it happened, just that something traumatic occurred.
Better than him actually saying I got raped, I suppose. "
The bitterness in my voice surprises even me.
"I guess he's just a cocky coward who knew my brother and Cale would probably lose their careers for the sake of beating him to a pulp if he revealed what actually happened."
My eyes are growing heavy again, exhaustion pulling at me with insistent fingers. The confession has taken what little energy I had, leaving me wrung out and vulnerable in ways I usually guard against.
"I have no idea why I just aired my dirty laundry like that," I mutter, words slurring slightly. "I'm totally sorry. Give me a bit to rest and I'll act like a badass again."
Elias's frown deepens, and his hand resumes its gentle stroking—feather-light touches that map the curve of my cheekbone with reverent care.
"You shouldn't be apologizing," he says firmly, voice carrying authority despite its softness. "And if you need rest, just say the word. I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to."
I force my eyes open to look at him properly.
Take in the concerned furrow of his brow, the way his jaw is tight with barely controlled emotion, the gentleness in those soft green eyes that's so at odds with every Alpha I've ever encountered.
"You're a pretty calm Alpha," I observe, and I can hear the drug-induced wonder in my own voice.
His lips quirk into a small smile. "Is that a compliment?"
"Observation." I let my eyes drift closed again, exhaustion winning the battle. "I'm totally intrigued about you being a tech. But I'll keep my rain check for that conversation."
"Fair enough." The amusement in his voice is warm, inviting. "I'm not going anywhere."
"Is there anything I can do?" he asks after a moment, and the genuine offer in his tone makes my chest tight.
I force my eyes open halfway, just enough to see his face through my lashes.
"Are we really scent-matched?"
The question comes out more vulnerable than I intended. Small and uncertain in ways Aurora Lane isn't supposed to be.
Elias's expression softens impossibly further, and he nods slowly.
"Yes." The confirmation is barely above a whisper. "But we don't need to talk about it until you're ready. No pressure. No expectations."
The relief that floods through me is almost overwhelming.
As if that's what I needed to hear.
Not demands for explanations or claims of ownership or any of the Alpha posturing I've learned to expect. Just... patience. Understanding. A willingness to let me set the pace.
"Would it be weird," I hear myself asking, "if you just held me for a bit?"
The words surprise me as much as they probably surprise him.
"Just... keep that touch. Since it makes me feel safe."
There's a pause, and I can practically hear him thinking. Weighing options. Considering implications.
"I can do more than that," he finally says. "But I need to ask…is it okay if I hold you? Like, actually get in the bed with you?"
The request should probably set off alarm bells.
This is a stranger. An Alpha I've known for less than a day. Someone who could use this vulnerability against me in a thousand different ways.
But my Omega instincts are screaming yes with such intensity that logic doesn't stand a chance.
The immense craving to be in this man's arms—despite him practically being a stranger—overrules every rational thought my brain tries to produce.
"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, ear pressed 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 finally breathe without 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 as home even 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 feels right.
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.