God, he said it like he really meant it.
He said it like it was indisputable truth.
The next half hour passed in a blur of paperwork and discharge instructions, Fallon dealing with most of the details. The nurse did as she promised, bringing the wheelchair to the hallway outside my room and waiting for me to walk across the threshold of my own volition. Passing through the doorway was… the first time I believed in the concept of being reborn.
"I'll bring the car around," Fallon said, as the nurse rolled me to a stop in front of the elevators. He disappeared into a stairwell, but not before giving me a weighted look full of things I couldn’t understand.
As we moved—into the elevator, descending floors, exiting near the reception area—Kane stayed close by me, near enough his thigh kept grazing the wheelchair’s armrest.
The hospital smells grew fainter as we approached the discharge exit, replaced by Kane’s heady scent of leather, oil, and spices. It made my inner Omega stir restlessly, warmth pooling in my belly. I placed a palm against my stomach, telling myself to stop being stupid. There were so many factors. The time. The place. Both wildly inappropriate. And did Kane even want me to want him? Even if he did, was my body healed enough to do anything besides fantasize?
Sunlight hit my face as the automatic doors slid open, and I squinted against the sudden brightness. After endless days beneath artificial fluorescents, the natural warmth felt unnatural.
My eyes widened as a sleek, hunter green sedan with a gleaming hood ornament pulled up to the curb. Not any of the muscle cars or motorcycles from the compound. This didn’t seem like something DemonX would drive, but Fallon was behind the wheel. He stepped out gracefully, large frame rising high above the car’s roof, and moved around to open the rear passenger door.
“Now that’s fancy,” the nurse breathed out. “You’re riding home in style, Lucy.”
“I… I guess I am,” I stuttered out. “Whose car is this?”
“Yours,” Kane said casually, as if giving someone a car was an everyday occurrence.
“I don’t have a license,” I said stupidly, glancing up and over at Kane’s face. “I’ve never even sat behind the wheel of a car.”
“Well,” he looked thoughtful for a heartbeat, “then it’s yours but you can’t drive it yet.” His tone was playful.
The nurse pushed me forward, stopping a couple feet from the open door and locking the wheels. She walked around to my side. Kane hung back, looking unsure of what to do.
“Okay, Lucy. You’re almost there.” The nurse reached for me.
“I’ve got it,” Kane said quickly, swooping in to take the nurse’s spot. She backed away without protest.
My brown-eyed Alpha, sandy hair falling across his forehead, helped me stand from the wheelchair. His arm slipped around my waist, touch careful to avoid my wound, and he guided me toward the car. Fallon reached out, ready to take my hand if necessary.
Once I was settled, Kane moved around to the other side and slid in beside me. Before I could reach for my seatbelt, he was leaning across me, his chest nearly touching mine as he pulled the belt across my body. His scent enveloped me—stronger now in the confined space—and I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply.
My reaction was instinctive, bordering on primeval.Mine.
Kane clicked the belt into place, then surprised me by producing a small, soft pillow from somewhere. He tucked it between the seatbelt and my stomach, adjusting it with unexpected gentleness.
"Does that feel okay?” He asked, gaze worried.
All I could do was nod. If I tried to speak, I wasn’t sure if I’d produce words or pull Kane toward me to do something different with my mouth. His warm eyes flicked down to my lips, and intense hunger flashed across his face. But then he pulled away, settling in his own seat. My insides writhed with a need almost as painful as the healing wound.
As Fallon began driving, I caught him watching me in the rearview mirror, his blue eyes intense and unreadable. When our gazes locked, something hot and electric passed between us, sending my pulse skittering wildly. His eyes darkened before he forced his attention back to the road.
My heart fluttered in my chest. Their scents. Their expressions. The warm pull of their bodies. Was it really so ridiculous to hope they wanted me?
As the hospital receded in the distance, I stared out the window at the passing scenery, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
FALLON.
Her reflection in the rearview mirror was going to kill me.
I couldn't stop looking at her. The sunlight streaming through the window turned her silvery-white hair into liquidplatinum. The delicate curve of her mouth screamed to be kissed. That slight furrow between her brows as she watched the world passing outside made me desperate to know her every thought.
It took monumental effort to force my eyes back to the road, my brain helpfully supplying the statistical probability of a crash if I stayed distracted. But, even knowing that every time the speed of the car doubled, so too did the momentum, and so too did the force of impact, I couldn’t stop myself from repeatedly glancing back at my Omega. My Lucy. Gorgeous fucking Lucy who couldn’t leave DemonX. If she did, I wasn’t sure I and my brothers would survive.
Why hadn’t we recognized the truth sooner? Why were we such a pack of morons?
