Page 50 of Knot Gonna Lie
“Medical training included psychology.” I kept my focus on her hand, not trusting myself to look up just yet. That wasn’t the whole truth, but I wasn’t divulging any further. I felt the shift in her posture, the way her fingers tensed slightly in mine. “And because I see you. Not just the omega, not just Luca’s mate. You. Elara. Who wants to contribute, to matter, to be chosen for more than scent compatibility.”
“Seth…” My name broke on her lips like a prayer.
She paused then, her uninjured hand lifting to hover near my face before settling gently on my cheek. The touch was featherlight but burned like starfire against my skin.
“What about you?” she asked, voice soft as morning mist.
The question hit me like decompression, stealing breath from my lungs. “What?”
“You’re hurt too.” Her fingers traced the air near the bruise blooming along my jaw where Keanu’s fist had connected. “I can see it in how you move, how you breathe. But you put everyone else first.” Her emerald gaze searched mine with devastating accuracy. “I can tell you’re used to caring for others, but what about being cared for?”
The vulnerability in her voice, the genuine concern, left me speechless. No one had ever asked—not in all my years of training, not through countless emergency calls, not even among the clan where my role was healer first, person second.
“I’m fine,” I said automatically, the lie as familiar as breathing. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“No.” Her hand pressed more firmly against my cheek, thumb brushing over the tender skin with exquisite gentleness. “You’re not. And you shouldn’t have to pretend you are.
“Is my hand okay?” she asked, flexing her fingers experimentally, studying her synthetic skin covered wound.
I nodded, watching the synthetic skin flex smoothly with her movements. “The medspray should keep any pain minimal. You’ll barely feel it by tomorrow.”
She tested the movement again, flinching slightly as the sting faded under the numbing agent. Then, without a word, she shifted our positions—guiding me to sit where she’d been on the exam table.
“Elara, what are you—”
“Let me see.” Her hands moved to my shirt, fingers working the fastenings with surprising confidence. “I need to see what they did to you.”
I caught her wrists gently, medical instinct warring with something deeper. “I can handle my own assessment—”
She silenced me with a kiss, soft and unexpected, lips pressing against mine with tender insistence. The contact lasted only heartbeats, but it left us both breathless, staring at each other in stunned silence.
“Tell me what I need to do,” she whispered against my lips.
My hands trembled as I reached for the medscanner, showing her the controls with fingers that felt clumsy and foreign. “Here. This will show internal damage, if any.” My voice came out rougher than intended. “But Elara, we have guests aboard—”
“Don’t.” Her fingers pressed against my lips, silencing my protests. “I trust our alpha to deal with our guests. Just let me care for you the way you’ve cared for me—for our clan.”
She took the scanner with a quiet nod, then returned to my shirt, fingers working with calm focus as she peeled the fabric away to reveal skin beneath. Each brush of her touch sparked along my nerves, setting myself on fire.
“I need to see,” she murmured, more to herself than me. “Need to know you’re all right.”
The shirt fell away, and I sat there—exposed. Not just skin, but everything underneath. She took in every bruise, every scrape, her fingers brushing over them like she could erase the damage by touch alone.
I forced my hands to remain at my sides, fighting every instinct that screamed to touch her in return. This wasn’t the time, wasn’t the place. She was thanking me, caring for me out of gratitude and heightened emotions. I couldn’t take advantage—
“Shh…You’re thinking too much,” she breathed, shaking her head. Her hands moved across my chest, slow and searching, stopping whatever I’d been about to say. “So kind. You make me feel…” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “Safe.”
“Elara—”
She pressed closer, the heat of her body singing through the thin fabric of her dress. “You make me feel…cherished. Like I matter beyond what my biology demands.” Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Let me return that gift.”
My resolve cracked from her confession. I caught her face in my hands, drawing her down until our foreheads touched, breathing the same air. “We shouldn’t—”
She kissed me again, deeper this time, effectively silencing my protests. The medscanner clattered forgotten to the floor as her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer with desperate need.
This kiss was different—not the gentle exploration from before, but something hungry and demanding. Her tongue traced my lower lip before delving deeper, and I opened for her with a groan that came from my very soul.
She tasted like lavender, vanilla, and something undeniably her—enough to make my head spin. My hands traced the line of her spine, memorizing every inch.
