"Grateful. That you found me. That I'm still here. That I get another chance." He nodded slowly, his hand tightening on my waist, his fingers pressing into my flesh like he needed to feel that I was solid, that I was real.
"What else are you thinking about?" He pressed.
"You," I admitted, tilting my head to look up at him, letting him see the truth in my eyes. "How much I hurt you. How sorry I am. How I'd do anything to take it back."
"You can't take it back." His voice wasn't cruel, just honest, stating a fact that we both knew to be true. His pale eyes held mine, clear and steady despite the pain that still lurked in their depths. "But you can prove it won't happen again. You can show me, every day, that you're choosing to stay."
"I will," I promised, my hand coming up to rest over his heart, feeling it beat steady and strong beneath my palm, feeling the warmth of his skin through his flannel shirt. "Every day. For the rest of my life. I'll show you."
The day passed like that, slow, quiet, intimate in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with presence. He asked me questions, and I answered honestly. He held me close, and I let myself be held. He cried sometimes, silent tears that tracked down his cheeks without warning, and I wiped them away with gentle fingers, whispering reassurances against his skin. By the time the light outside the workshop windows began to fade, something had shifted between us. The raw, bleeding wound of his grief had begun to close, replaced by something tentative and fragile but undeniably real.
Trust. The first fragile threads of it, weaving between us.
"Ava." His voice was different now — lower, rougher, edged with something that made my Omega sit up and take notice. His hand on my waist had shifted, his fingers pressing into my hip with new intent, his body tensing beneath me in a way that had nothing to do with grief. "I need?—"
"What do you need?" I turned in his lap to face him, straddling his thighs, my hands resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath my palms. "Tell me, Caleb. Whatever it is, I'll give it to you."
"You." The word came out as a growl, low and rumbling, vibrating through his chest and into my hands, and I felt my body respond instantly, heat pooling in my belly, slick gathering between my thighs, my Omega keening softly at the Alpha’s need in his voice. His pale eyes had darkened, the pupils blown wide, hunger and desperation warring in their depths. "I need you, Ava. I need to feel you. I need to know you're real, that you're mine, that you're not going to disappear."
"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered, leaning in to press my lips to his, tasting the salt of tears on his mouth. "I'm right here. I'm yours. Take whatever you need."
He kissed me like a drowning man gasping for air, desperate and deep and all-consuming. His hands fisted in my hair, tilting my head back, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to claim every inch of it. A rumbling growl vibrated through his chest, the sound purely Alpha, purely possessive, making my entire body tremble with need. I moaned into his mouth, my hips rocking forward instinctively, seeking friction, seeking connection. My Omega was fully awake now, purring and keening in equal measure, responding to the raw need pouring off him in waves.
"Need to see you," Caleb growled against my lips, his hands dropping to the hem of my shirt and pulling it up over my head in one swift motion, tossing it carelessly to the floor. His eyes raked over my bare skin, hungry and desperate, his breath coming in harsh pants that fogged in the cool air of the workshop. "So beautiful. So alive. Mine."
"Yours," I agreed, my voice breathy and broken, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his flannel shirt, my hands shaking with need and emotion. "Always yours, Caleb."
He helped me strip off his shirt, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, the thick muscles of his arms and shoulders, the scars that mapped his skin like stories written in flesh. I tracedone with my fingertip, a long, thin line across his collarbone, and felt him shiver beneath my touch.
"I want—" He stopped, his jaw clenching, his pale eyes blazing with need and uncertainty, his hands hovering over my body like he wasn't sure he was allowed to touch. "I want to take you here. In my workshop. Where I can see you, where I can touch you, where I can prove to myself that you're real."
"Then take me," I whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to the scar I'd been tracing, feeling him shiver beneath my lips. "I'm yours, Caleb. All of me. Take whatever you need."
A sound escaped him, half growl, half sob, the two emotions tangled together inextricably — and then he was lifting me, carrying me to the workbench he'd cleared of tools and projects, laying me down on the smooth wood like I was something precious, something sacred. The wood was cool against my back, worn smooth by years of use, and I could smell sawdust and varnish and something that was purely Caleb.
He stripped off my leggings with shaking hands, his eyes never leaving my body, drinking in every inch of exposed skin like he was trying to memorize me. When I was naked before him, spread out on his workbench like an offering, he just stood there for a long moment, staring, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.
"Caleb?" My voice came out uncertain, vulnerable, my Omega keening softly at the intensity of his gaze, my body arching instinctively toward him.
"I thought I'd never see you again," he said, his voice rough with emotion, tears tracking down his cheeks even as his hands moved to unfasten his jeans, his fingers fumbling with the button. "I held your cold body and I thought— I thought?—"
"I'm here," I said, reaching for him, my hands finding his and pulling him down to me, guiding his palm to rest flat against my heart so he could feel the warmth of my skin, the rise and fall ofmy breath. "I'm warm. I'm alive. I'm right here, Caleb. Feel me. I'm real."
He came down over me, his body covering mine, his skin hot against my own, the weight of him pressing me into the smooth wood of the workbench. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply, his whole body shuddering as my scent filled his lungs. I could feel his heart pounding against my chest, racing in tandem with my own.
"Real," he whispered against my throat, his lips trailing across my pulse point, feeling my heart beat beneath his mouth, his breath hot and ragged against my skin. "Warm. Alive. Mine."
"Yours," I agreed, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, feeling the hard length of him pressing against my core, hot and thick and wanting. "Please, Caleb. I need you. I need to feel you inside me."
He lifted his head to look at me, his pale eyes swimming with tears and love and desperate need, his jaw tight with the effort of holding himself back. "Tell me you'll stay," he said, his voice cracking on the words, his whole body trembling above me. "Promise me. Swear to me that you'll never run again."
"I'll stay," I promised, my hands cupping his face, my thumbs brushing away his tears, feeling the rough scratch of his beard against my palms. "I swear, Caleb. I'll never run again. I'll never leave you. You're my Alpha, my mate, my home. I'm not going anywhere."
A broken sound escaped him, raw and wounded and grateful all at once, and then he was pushing inside me. The world narrowed to the feel of him, the slow, reverent slide of his body joining with mine. He moved carefully, gently, like I was something precious that might shatter if he wasn't careful. Each inch he gave me felt like a prayer, a promise, an act of devotion that made my heart ache with its tenderness. The stretch burned sweetly, my body opening for him, welcoming him home.
"Oh," I breathed, my head falling back against the workbench, my fingers digging into the solid warmth of his shoulders. The fullness was overwhelming, the intimacy almost too much to bear, but beneath it all was a bone-deep rightness that made my Omega purr with contentment. "Caleb?—"
"I know," he breathed, his voice strained, his whole body trembling with the effort of restraint. His forehead dropped to rest against mine, his pale eyes searching my face. "I know, sweetheart. Just breathe. Let me feel you. Let me know you're real."
