Chapter 16 Bonded By Dawn #2
I force my arm to move, reaching blindly toward the nightstand, fingers fumbling until they close around the phone's familiar shape. The screen is too bright, making me squint against sudden glare, caller ID is blurry until my vision adjusts.
Aidric Hawthorne
What the fuck?
I stare at the name, confusion momentarily overriding exhaustion. Why would Aidric be calling me? We haven't spoken directly through phone in years—not since the explosive breakup that resulted in both of us fleeing to start over without one another and the pain we ignited.
Thought he deleted my number.
Claimed he had announced it dramatically during our final argument, like erasing my contact information somehow erased our history.
Apparently, that was bullshit.
My thumb swipes to answer before conscious thought catches up, reflex overriding logic.
"'Lo," I manage, the greeting emerging as a weak grunt rather than an actual word. My voice is wrecked—hoarse from exertion and dehydration, and the general abuse my vocal cords have endured.
"What did you just do?" Aidric's voice explodes through the speaker, bypassing pleasantries entirely, fury and something else—panic?—evident in his tone.
What?
I try to organize thoughts enough to respond, to understand why he'd be calling, demanding explanations for actions he couldn't possibly know about. My brain feels sluggish, synapses firing slowly, exhaustion making coherent thought nearly impossible.
Why would he care what I did?
Why would he know anything occurred?
We're not in contact, not connected, nothing that would give him insight into my personal life.
The silence stretches while I fight to stay conscious, to formulate a response that makes sense. But my eyelids are so heavy, my body so determined to shut down, that maintaining awareness feels like swimming through molasses.
Aidric curses—a creative string of profanity that would be impressive if I had energy to appreciate it.
"Did you just bond with Wendolyn?" The question is sharp, demanding, carrying urgency that penetrates my exhausted haze.
Bond?
With Wendolyn?
What does that even—
"Bonded what?" I croak, the question requiring monumental effort to vocalize.
Losing the battle.
Consciousness slipping despite determination to understand what Aidric's talking about, why he's calling, how he possibly knows anything about my morning activities.
The relief flooding my system is too strong to fight—a warm, comforting blanket that's smothering every other sensation, including the anxiety that's been eating me alive for weeks.
All the worries about abandoning Wendy, about choosing career over love, about making a wrong decision that destroys everything valuable—
Gone.
Vanished like smoke dissipating in the wind.
Replaced by certainty that I won't lose her, can't lose her, that whatever just happened created a connection that transcends distance and career opportunities, and practical considerations.
Aidric is still talking—voice distant now, words muffled like he's speaking from far away rather than through the phone pressed against my ear. I catch fragments—"pack bond," "permanent," "idiot"—but can't assemble them into coherent meaning.
Don't care.
Can't care.
Sleep is calling with irresistible seduction, offering escape from confusion and questions and Aidric's inexplicable panic.
My eyes close despite the remaining shred of willpower trying to keep them open. The phone slips from my grip, probably still connected, Aidric probably still ranting about something I'll have to deal with later.
Later.
Everything can wait until later.
After sleep, after rest, after I've had a chance to process what just occurred and what it means for every aspect of my existence.
But even as unconsciousness claims me, even as the world fades into blessed darkness, one truth remains crystal clear:
I won't lose her.
Can't lose her.
Whatever bond we just formed—whatever permanent connection her bite and my knot created—ensures that separation isn't an option anymore.
She's mine.
I'm hers.
We're bonded in a way that transcends geography and career ambitions and every practical reason for being apart.
The relief is overwhelming, flooding every cell with satisfaction that makes sleep feel like a reward rather than an escape.
Because I don't have to choose anymore—don't have to weigh dreams against love, professional advancement against personal connection, captain badge against Omega who marked me as hers.
The choice was made.
The moment her teeth pierced my flesh.
The second, my knot locked inside her.
In the bond that formed, whether we consciously intended it or not.
LA can wait.
Or not wait—doesn't matter anymore.
Because I'm not going.
Not leaving.
Not abandoning the woman who just claimed me in the most fundamental way possible.
My last conscious thought before sleep claims me completely is profound gratitude—not for the bond itself, though that's miraculous, but for the clarity it provides.
No more agonizing over decisions, no more weighing impossible choices, no more torture of trying to determine which dream matters more.
She matters more.
Always has.
Just needed a biological imperative to override my stubborn insistence on maintaining independence.
Darkness pulls me under with gentle insistence, exhaustion finally winning the battle it's been waging since dawn. Aidric's voice fades completely, phone forgotten on sheets beside me, the world narrowing to just three things:
Wendy's weight against my chest.
Her heartbeat was steady against mine.
The bond humming between us like a live wire, permanent and irreversible.
My Omega.
My Wendolyn.
The possessive terminology doesn't feel presumptuous anymore—feels accurate, feels right, feels like truth I've been avoiding acknowledging until biology forced my hand.
Mine.
Forever mine.
Bonded, claimed, permanently connected in ways I don't fully understand but absolutely recognize as correct.
Sleep claims me completely, pulling me into darkness where dreams mix with reality, where relief outweighs confusion, where the future suddenly looks entirely different from what I'd been imagining.
My Wendolyn.
The words echo through fading consciousness like a mantra, promise, vow I'm making to a woman who can't hear but will understand when she wakes.
Wendolyn's bonded mate.
Her Alpha.
Her choice, her claim, her permanent connection.
The distinction matters—transforms identity from individual achievement to partnership, from solo ambition to shared future, from independence to belonging.
And I wouldn't change it.
Wouldn't undo what just happened even if I could.
Because she's worth more than any position, any badge, any professional recognition.
She's worth everything.
The woman who marked me, claimed me, made me hers while simultaneously becoming mine, in exchange that feels perfectly balanced, utterly right, fundamentally correct.
His Wendolyn.
Forever.