Page 49 of Knot Gonna Lie (Syzygy Omegaverse #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

JAXOM

The medical bay’s sterile light cut everything into sharp relief, gleaming off the order Seth had preserved even through the chaos of the past few days.

I settled onto the examination chair, watching him move between cabinets with the kind of precision that proved medicine wasn’t just his skill—it was his nature.

Strange to think that twelve hours ago, I’d been nothing more than an inventory specialist—useful, reliable, but ultimately replaceable. Now Elara’s mark pulsed against my left hand like a second heartbeat, the bite still tender enough to remind me this wasn’t some fever dream born from loneliness.

She had claimed me.

Seth tugged on fresh gloves, exhaustion shadowing his gray-blue eyes despite his composure. Lavender clung faintly to his citrus-sharp scent—Elara’s recent attention branded at his chest where her bite peeked through his thin white dress shirt.

“How’s the head?” he asked, handheld scanner humming as it activated. “Any nausea, blurred vision, light sensitivity?”

“Clear.” I kept still while he passed the device over my temple. The concussion from Marcus’s backhand had been minor—Seth’s swift treatment had made sure of it. “Just the occasional headache when I move too fast.”

“Expected. Should fade soon.” He set the scanner aside, reached for antiseptic. “May I check the mark?”

My chest tightened. Of course he needed to. Infection risk, proper healing—clinical necessities. Still, the thought of another’s hands on what she’d given me sparked raw possessiveness.

I offered it anyway—the last thing I wanted was an infection that might make Elara worry. Or worse, regret her mark. Her claim.

Seth studied the bite with the same reverence he’d shown his own. A perfect crescent of teeth, already scabbing at the edges.

“She didn’t hold back,” he murmured, cleaning around the wound with careful fingers. “It’ll scar beautifully. Permanent.”

Permanent. The word warmed something deep, filling the hollow where doubt usually lived.

“Does it hurt?” Seth’s concern was genuine, medic instincts warring with pack interest.

“No.” The truth came easily. “It feels… right. Like something I’d been missing finally clicked into place.”

Recognition flickered across his face—the same belonging he’d felt when she’d marked him. He applied salve with gentleness that was less clinical, more ritual. “I know. Like exhaling after years of holding your breath.”

The bay door whispered open. Elara entered, Luca just behind her. Her scent hit me first—lavender and vanilla, richer now, laced with claiming satisfaction. She wore one of Luca’s shirts, collar loose enough to show his bite at her throat.

“How are my pack members healing?” She moved with fluid grace, but I caught the slight stiffness in her movements— reminders of her own wounds. Her emerald eyes swept over us, cataloguing every bruise with possessive scrutiny.

“Jaxom’s concussion is resolving well,” Seth reported, stepping back to give her access while maintaining professional composure. “No complications. The mark is clean, healing properly.”

She approached with predatory focus, eyes locked on the fresh bite decorating my hand. When she reached for me, I offered it willingly, pulse quickening as her fingers traced the tender crescents, slow and deliberate.

“Perfect.” Her thumb brushed across the marks, electricity sparking through me. “Now everyone will know you’re mine.”

The possessive satisfaction in her voice made my chest swell with primitive pride. Claimed. Marked. Hers.

“Luca.” She turned to our alpha, authority threading through her tone despite the soft way she said his name. “Shirt off. I need to see.”

He arched a brow but obeyed, peeling fabric away. Faint purple and green shadows painted his ribs, testament to the beating he’d endured protecting her.

Elara’s scent sharpened—anger, protective and fierce. Her hands skimmed over his chest with the same thoroughness Seth used, though her purpose was different. Not treatment. Reclaiming. Reasserting that every inch of him belonged to her.

“These should’ve been treated immediately,” she muttered, eyes flashing. “Seth—supplies.”

Seth gathered antiseptic and salve without pause.

I watched her hands ghost over Luca’s bruises, erasing violation with her own touch.

This wasn’t a medical examination—this was reclaiming.

Asserting ownership over her pack through touch and scent, erasing any trace of violation with her own careful attention.

“Elara,” Luca said gently, amusement softening his voice. “I’m fine. Seth already—”

“Seth treated you as a patient.” Her tone cut sharp. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she accepted the supplies from our medic. “I’m treating you as my alpha. My responsibility. My pack member who was hurt protecting me.”

The words struck deep. Not medicine. Possession. She needed to touch us, scent us, satisfy herself that we were whole and healing and hers.

“Jaxom.” Her attention turned to me, emerald eyes dark with the same possessive need. “You too. Shirt off.”

I obeyed without thought, baring ribs mottled by impact. Her touch followed each bruise, each scrape, cataloguing, claiming, soothing. My body recognized it instantly—an omega securing her pack, making sure nothing threatened what was hers.

“Seth.” She didn’t look away from the bruise she was tracing across my shoulder, but her voice carried unmistakable command. “Your turn.”

“I wasn’t seriously injured—”

“Seth.” The edge in her tone brooked no argument. “All of my pack. Now.”

Seth’s shirt joined ours on the medical bay floor, revealing the lean muscle of a man who’d spent more time with medical texts than combat training.

His injuries were lighter—a few scrapes, one developing bruise across his collarbone where he’d been shoved—but Elara examined him with the same possessive care.

“Perfect,” she whispered, voice thick with satisfaction. “All of you. Healing. Whole. Mine.”

Heat pooled in me at the words. This wasn’t about necessity. It was a declaration.

Our omega asserting her claim, ensuring her pack bore no marks except the ones she’d placed there herself.

Her fingers returned to my hand, tracing the crescents she’d left. “This will scar beautifully.”

“That’s what Seth told me.” My voice came rough. “I want to carry your mark forever.”

Something shifted in her expression—surprise melting into fierce satisfaction that made my stomach clench with want. She leaned closer, vanilla-lavender wrapping around me, and pressed her lips to the healing bite.

The kiss was gentle, barely more than breath against skin, but it sent lightning racing through my entire body. Claiming. Soothing. Promising.

“My beta,” she murmured against my skin. “My steady, careful, perfect beta.”

Perfect. She called me perfect.

Breath stalled. Years spent in shadows, convinced I’d never be enough, and she had chosen me. Claimed me. Made me hers with teeth and touch and whispered promises.

“The healing salve,” Seth said softly, offering her the tube. “For all the marks. Theirs—and yours.”

She accepted it with a smile that promised things I didn’t dare imagine, then set about tending each of us again. Her hands steady, deliberate. Cool gel soothed heated skin as she worked, but her touch burned hotter than any injury.

When she reached her own cut—mirror to mine—I caught her wrist.

“Let me.” The plea broke out, raw. “Please.”

Her eyes softened. She placed the tube in my palm.

I cleaned her wound with the same reverence she’d shown ours, every touch deliberate, every moment treasured.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For taking care of me.”

“Always.” The promise came easily, absolute. “As if I could do anything else.”

“Forever, then.” Her smile shone brighter than the sterile lights. “Because I’m never letting any of you go.”

Seth chuckled quietly. “Breakfast soon. We should get dressed before Luca tears the ship apart looking for us.”

But Elara’s hand twined with mine again, unwilling to let go. “Together.”

I squeezed her fingers, marveling at the impossible truth of her claim, the mark pulsing with her heartbeat.

Forever wouldn’t be long enough.