Page 12 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

I’d lost too much time, stuck in darkness and pain for too damn long, holding on to the sound of her voice, the touch of her hand in mine. Now that I was fully conscious, I needed more. Needed her warmth, her scent, the solid reality of her to anchor me.

Kit’s expression softened, her resistance melting away. She stood, and I got my first full look at her in the daylight. My breath caught in my throat. She’d lost weight—too much weight. The sweatshirt hung from her frame, and even her leggings seemed looser than they’d been before. Her cheekbones seemed more prominent, her wrists more delicate.

I swallowed hard. She’d spent too much time keeping vigil by my side, neglecting her own needs to watch over me. My fierce, loyal Butterfly.

“Come here,” I repeated, more gently this time, patting the empty space beside me on the narrow hospital bed. “You need rest in an actual bed, even if this is a shitty excuse for a mattress.”

Kit’s gaze flicked to my bandaged torso. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, small and uncertain.

I gave her my best smile, the one that always worked on her, dimples and all. “You could never hurt me, Butterfly. Please?”

She approached the bed cautiously, like I might break if she moved too quickly. I reached for her hand, relieved when her fingers twined with mine.

“How should I...?” She eyed the tangle of tubes and wires connecting me to the various machines.

“Carefully,” I teased, drawing another eye roll from her. “This side is good. Just avoid the central line.”

Kit bit her lip, considering the logistics, then carefully lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. I shifted slightly, making more room, ignoring the twinge of pain the movement caused. Worth it. So fuckin’ worth it to have her close.

“Lay down,” I urged, tugging gently at her hand. “I promise I won’t break.”

With utmost care, Kit stretched out beside me, her body a tense line against my uninjured side. I could feel her holding herself rigid, afraid to relax.

“Butterfly,” I murmured, wrapping my arm around her shoulders, “I can’t enjoy having you here if you’re wound tighter than my stitches. You can relax. Please?”

She exhaled shakily, then finally,finally, allowed herself to melt against me, her head finding the familiar spot on my shoulder, her arm draping carefully across my chest well abovethe bandages. The warmth of her body against mine was like a balm, soothing aches I hadn’t even realized I had.

I breathed in deeply, savoring her scent—that mix of dark ethereal moss and moonflowers that had captivated me from the first moment I laid eyes on her—though it was muted now, undercut by the sterile hospital smell and whatever scent neutralizing lotion was left on her skin. Still, it was Kit. My Omega. My home.

“Better,” I sighed, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “Muchbetter.”

Kit made a small sound of contentment, her body growing heavier against mine as she allowed herself to truly relax for what was probably the first time in days.

“I was so scared, Tommy,” she whispered against my chest, so quietly I almost missed it. “There was so much blood. And you wouldn’t wake up, not really. You’d open your eyes sometimes, but you weren’t really there.”

My arm tightened around her. “I’m here now, Butterfly. Not going anywhere.”

She shifted slightly, tilting her face up to look at me, those ice-blue eyes bright with unshed tears. “Promise?”

My heart fuckin’ cracked open at the vulnerability in that single word. Kit, who’d been abandoned, mistreated, or betrayed by everyone who should have protected her, who’d learned the hard way that promises were just empty words—was asking me for one, anyway. Trusting me despite everything.

I cupped her cheek, my thumb brushing over the delicate skin beneath her eye, wiping away a tear before it could fall. “I promise, Butterfly. You’re stuck with me.”

Something in her expression eased, and I leaned down, ignoring the pull of stitches, and pressed my lips to hers.

The kiss was gentle, chaste almost—nothing like our usual hungry exchanges—but no less powerful for it. Her lips wereslightly chapped from dehydration, but still soft. Still perfect. She sighed against my mouth, her hand coming up to rest against my jaw, fingertips as light as butterfly wings.

It was an apt description. Everything about my mate was delicate, and gentle, and so fuckin’ beautiful.

When we parted, I kept my face close to hers. Studying her. Counting each tiny freckle. Tracing the faintest scar above her left eyebrow. Memorizing the bow of her upper lip. I committed it all to memory, storing away the details like I was hoarding treasure.

“What?” she questioned self-consciously, her cheeks pinking under my steadfast attention.

“Just reminding myself how lucky I am. Despite everything, I got to wake up to you. You’re my miracle, Kit.”

Her flush deepened, but she held my gaze this time, letting me see the emotion swirling through her eyes. “I’m the lucky one,” she insisted. “You didn’t leave. You fought so hard to come back to me.”

I brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Always will, Butterfly.Always.”

---