Chapter 18 #2
He set me on the bed like I was made of glass.
"Stay," he said.
"I'm not a dog."
"Stay anyway."
He disappeared into the kitchen. I heard cabinets opening, water running, the clink of dishes. I should have protested. Should have insisted I was fine, that I could take care of myself, that I didn't need him to—
I was so tired.
I let myself fall back against the pillows. They smelled like him. I breathed it in and felt something in my chest loosen.
Neal returned with a tray. Soup — something homemade, from the smell. Bread. A glass of water.
"Eat," he said, setting it on the nightstand.
"I'm not hungry."
"I don't care." He sat on the edge of the bed. Close, but not touching. "Eat anyway."
I forced myself upright. Took a spoonful of soup. It was good — better than good. Rich and warm, sliding down my throat like comfort made liquid.
"You cook," I said, surprised.
"Sometimes." He watched me eat, his expression unreadable. "When I'm not too busy watching stubborn women destroy themselves."
"I'm not destroying myself."
"You're doing a very good impression of it." His voice softened. "Lumi. Why won't you let anyone help you?"
The question hit harder than it should have.
I set down the spoon. Stared at the soup, unable to meet his eyes.
"Because I'm the only one who can reach him," I said quietly. "Stone. The bond between us — it's the only thing that calms him. If I stop, if I slow down, he spirals. And we only have nineteen days left to prove he can heal."
"And what happens if you collapse? If you end up in a hospital bed instead of that chair?" Neal's hand found mine. Careful. Tentative. "Stone needs you. But he needs you alive. Functional. Not running on empty and pretending you're fine."
Tears burned behind my eyes.
I was so tired of pretending.
"I don't know how to stop," I admitted. "I don't know how to let go. Every time I try, I think about them — Stone, Cal's packmates, all of them — and I can't. I can't just rest while they're suffering."
"Then don't think about them." Neal shifted closer. His other hand came up to cup my face, tilting it toward his. "Just for tonight. Think about yourself. About what you need."
I looked at him.
His face was inches from mine. His eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide. The bond between us hummed with everything he'd been denying — the want, the need, the desperate longing that matched my own.
"What if what I need is you?" I whispered.
Something broke in his expression.
"Lumi," he breathed.
"You've been avoiding me. Since the kiss. Since—"
"Because I can't control myself around you.
" The words came out rough. Torn from somewhere deep.
"Every time I see you, I want to touch you.
Hold you. Make sure you're okay, and then—" He stopped.
Swallowed hard. "I'm supposed to be your doctor.
I'm supposed to be professional. And every time you look at me, all I can think about is how you tasted. "
Heat flooded through me.
"Then stop being professional," I said.
"Lumi—"
"I'm not your patient right now, Neal. I'm your mate." I reached up, tangled my fingers in his hair. "And I need you. Please."
He broke.
His mouth crashed into mine, and it was exactly like before — desperate, hungry, consuming. He kissed me like he'd been starving for it, his hands sliding into my hair, tilting my head back to deepen the contact.
I made a sound against his lips — need, relief, finally — and he swallowed it whole.
"You need to eat," he gasped between kisses. "Sleep. You need—"
"I need you." I pulled him closer, felt his weight settle over me. "Food can wait."
"Lumi—"
"Neal." I looked up at him, let him see everything I was feeling. The exhaustion, yes. But also the want. The desperate ache that had been building since that first kiss. "Please. Just tonight. Let me feel something other than tired."
His resistance crumbled.
He kissed me again — softer this time, but no less intense. His hands found the hem of my sweater, slid underneath to trace the skin of my stomach. I arched into his touch, gasping.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured against my throat. "If it's too much. If you need—"
"I need more."
He didn’t hold back anymore. The professional, calculated Dr. Neal was gone, replaced by a man who had spent months starving himself of the one thing his soul recognized.
His hands were trembling as he pulled the sweater over my head, but once he felt my bare skin against his, the tremor turned into a possessive grip.
He pushed me back into the pillows, his body a heavy, welcome heat between my thighs.
He was still wearing his button-down, the fabric rough against my sensitized skin, and I reached for the collar, my fingers frantic.
"Slow," he rasped, though he was the one ripping the buttons open. "Lumi, if we start this, I need you so bad. The bond... it’s been clawing at me for weeks."
"Then let go," I whispered, pulling his shirt off his shoulders.
He groaned, a low, primal sound that vibrated through my entire chest. He stripped with a desperate efficiency, and when he came back to me, the sheer power of his frame made my breath hitch. He was all lean muscle and clinical precision turned into raw, masculine need.
He didn't just kiss me; he mapped me. His mouth was everywhere—my jaw, the sensitive hollow of my throat, the curve of my breasts. He used his teeth, a sharp, stinging nip on my collarbone that made the bond flare white-hot, before his tongue soothed the ache.
"You’re so thin," he murmured, his hands sliding down to my hip bones, his thumbs tracing the prominence there with a mix of doctorly concern and lover’s worship. "I’m going to spend the rest of my life feeding you, Lumi. But right now..."
He moved lower, his hands parting my legs with a firm, silent command. I expected him to come back up, to seek my mouth, but instead, he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed.
"Neal—"
"Hush." His voice was a low growl.
Then his mouth was on me.
The sensation was a lightning strike. He was as thorough with his tongue as he was with his medicine—focused, intense, and devastatingly effective.
I arched off the bed, my fingers tangling in his hair as I let out a jagged cry.
The bond was screaming now. He didn't let up until I was shaking, my first climax crashing over me in waves that left me breathless and sobbing his name.
He didn't give me time to recover. He moved up my body, his eyes glowing with his wolf. He caught my hands, pinning them above my head with one of his, while the other guided him to my entrance.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice thick.
I looked. I saw the man who usually tried to save me, now utterly undone by me.
He pushed inside, slow and agonizingly deep. It wasn't just a physical joining; it felt like he was stitching himself into my very DNA. I gasped, my legs locking around his waist to pull him deeper, needing to close every millimeter of space between us.
"You're mine," he whispered, the words a vow. "Do you hear me? No more destroying yourself. You belong to me now."
"Yes," I choked out, meeting his pace as he began to move.
He was relentless. Every thrust was a claim, a steady, powerful rhythm that drove the exhaustion from my bones and replaced it with fire. We moved together in the small, quiet cabin, the only sound the ragged hitch of our breathing and the snap of the bond as it finally, finally settled into place.
When the end came, it was violent and beautiful. He buried his face in my neck, his teeth grazing the skin over my pulse point as he came, his body rigid as he poured everything he’d been holding back into me. I shattered along with him.
Later — much later — I lay in his arms, warm and sated and more relaxed than I'd been in weeks.
The soup had gone cold on the nightstand. Neither of us cared.
"You still need to eat," Neal said. His voice was drowsy, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my bare shoulder. “I’ll feed you.”
"Mmmkay."
"Then sleep. Real sleep."
"I am sleeping." I pressed a kiss to his chest. "Or I will be. Give me five minutes. I’ll eat fast."
He laughed softly. "You're still impossible."
"You love it."
The word hung in the air between us. Love. Neither of us had said it out loud. But the bond knew. The bond had always known.
"I do," Neal said quietly. "God help me, I do."
I smiled against his skin.