I drive forward one last time; my knot forcing its way past her opening until we're locked. I groan into the crook of her neck, my body going rigid as I come deep inside her. I hold her there, my chest heaving. A peace settles over us like a blanket.
We stay there for a long time, the only sound the hum of the ventilation and our ragged breathing. The noise in the building vanishes. We may not be her pack yet, and my penance doesn't end here, but as I hold her in the office, I know the Sunflower Center stands on a foundation that won't crumble.
Reaching up she pulls me into a kiss, I bend to meet her lips after a long moment of hazy bliss, she pulls back and stares int my eyes.“Thank you. The noise and pain has gone quiet."
A smile tugs at my lips.“Whatever you need, Zo, I’m here. I’ll always be her and from now on you always have the choice to decide what you want for your life. I’m so sorry I took that away from you. I won’t ever do it again.”
Ihaveaspoolof Cat6 cable over my shoulder and a crimping tool tucked into my belt. Most of the walls are just studs right now, but I can see the layout coming together in a grid. I’ve spent the last three hours pulling wire through the ceiling joists, making sure the blind spots are nonexistent. It is a massive job, but it keeps my hands busy and my head out of the gutter.
Zora is ten feet away, looking at blueprints spread over a piece of plywood. She has a smudge of white dust on her brown cheek, and her hair is tied back in a messy knot. We’ve been at this for months. The remodel moves at a steady pace, but she keeps us at a distance.
She won't set foot in the penthouse. When the bond gets too loud for her to handle, she finds a corner in this gutted building. We settle the noise with fast sessions against the raw studs or on top of equipment crates. It is clinical. She keeps her boots on and leaves as soon as the edge is off. It is a transaction that keeps her sane and keeps us on a leash. There is no talk or comfort. Just the physical release she needs to stay focused on the work.
I drop the spool and wipe sweat from my forehead with theback of my hand. Even through the dust and the smell of raw wood, her pheromones hit me. Honey and vanilla. It doesn't matter how much drywall mud is in the air. That scent finds its way to me, a constant signal in the noise. It makes my skin feel tight. I point. "The server rack goes in that corner. I want it bolted to the slab."
Zora doesn't look up from the plans. She traces a line on the paper with a dirt-stained finger.
"Put it wherever it works best. Just make sure the staff can get to the reset buttons without a degree from MIT."
I walk over and stand on the other side of the plywood. The honey and vanilla scent gets stronger. It is a distraction I don't need while I’m trying to map out a security hub.
"I'll make it simple. One green button for on, one red for off. Even a manager could handle it."
She lets out a small huff. It is the most progress I’ve made in a week. She shifts her weight and moves toward the back of the facility where the new intake rooms are being framed. The floor is a mess of scrap wood, bent nails, and piles of gravel. I watch her step over a stack of two-by-fours.
I wince. "Watch the footing. The guys didn't sweep this morning."
Zora waves a hand at me without turning around. "I'm fine, Theo. I just want to finish the walk-through."
She takes another step and her boot catches on a loose piece of rebar sticking out from the subfloor. Her ankle twists at a sharp angle. She lets out a quick gasp and goes down hard on her side.
I’m across the room before she even hits the concrete. I drop to my knees beside her. Her skin has gone ashen from the shock, and her eyes are squeezed shut. She’s clutching her left leg. "Don't move. Let me see."
I reach for her boot, but she flinches. "It’s fine. I just tripped."
She tries to sit up, and her face turns a grey tone. She falls back against my arm, her breathing coming in fast hitches. The bond pings in my chest, an alarm that tells me she’s in real pain.
I pull my phone out and hit the speed dial for Micah. "Zora’s down. Rear wing of the shelter."
I don't wait for his response. I shift so she’s leaning against my chest, my arms wrapped around her to keep her steady on the cold floor. She doesn't push me away this time. She just leans her head back against my shoulder and closes her eyes. "I told you to watch the floor."
She lets out a weak groan. "Shut up, Theo."
I hold her closer and wait for the sound of Micah's boots on the gravel.
Micah moves with a calm that pisses me off, but right now it is the one thing keeping the room from turning into a disaster. He kneels on the concrete and pulls the laces of Zora’s boot loose. His fingers are steady as he works the leather tongue back. He slides the boot off her foot with a slow, careful motion. Zora winces, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip, but she doesn't make a sound. Her ankle is puffing out, the brown skin turning a dark, bruised shade around the bone.
Reid and Dameon are standing by the door. Their shadows are long against the studs. They’re watching, their jaws set tight, but they stay back.
"It isn't broken. Just a Grade 2 sprain. You’re lucky you didn't catch the edge of that slab."
Micah wraps the ankle in a thick compression bandage. His fingers move with a rhythm that shows he's done this a thousand times. Zora stares at the ceiling, her jaw clenched.
"I can walk. Just give me a minute."
Micah stands up and slaps the dust from his knees. "You aren't walking anywhere for at least three days. You go home. You stay off it. I want it elevated and iced."
Reid steps forward. He looks like a manager even in a construction zone; his suit sharp and out of place among the drywall dust.
