Page 77 of Knot So Lucky

Roran opens his mouth to argue, then closes it, clearly recognizing he's fighting a losing battle.

"Fine," he huffs, standing from the chair. "But only because you're impossible when you're particular and picky about your coffee."

I smirk, sending him a mental thank you that I hope translates through our twin bond.

"Remember I like it black. Like my soul."

"Your soul isn't black," he calls from the hallway, but there's affection beneath the exasperation. "It's more like charcoal grey with glitter."

"That's oddly specific."

"Shut up."

His footsteps fade down the corridor, and I'm left alone with Cale.

Who's still hovering near the door like he's not sure he's welcome in his own girlfriend's—friend's?—hospital room.

The sight makes my chest ache.

"Where's your new man at?" Cale asks, attempting casual and missing by a mile.

I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't fall out of my skull.

"I don't have a new man. Last time I checked, I'm still a 'man' myself, so I'm not exactly going off with a whole ass pack I don't know about."

Cale grumbles something under his breath that I can't quite make out.

I lift my hand, gesturing impatiently for him to come closer.

"What? I can't hear you when you're mumbling like a coward."

He shuffles over reluctantly, each step clearly costing him pride.

When he's finally close enough, I strike.

My hand shoots out, fisting in his collar and pulling him down until we're eye level. The movement pulls at my bruised ribs and makes the monitors beep alarmingly, but I don't care.

"If you're going to be tiptoeing around me like this," I whisper fiercely, maintaining eye contact so he understands I'm serious, "I'm kicking your balls when I'm out of this hospital bed and changing my suite's code."

Cale rolls his eyes—a gesture that saysas if that's going to stop me—but there's something vulnerable beneath the bravado.

I let my expression soften, replacing aggression with need.

One look. That's all it takes.

His carefully maintained control crumbles like tissue paper.

He's kissing me before my next breath, mouth crashing against mine with desperate intensity. Fierce and claiming and completely at odds with the gentle touches Elias provided earlier.

I hook my arms around his neck, fingers threading through his dark hair as I pull him closer. Force him to stay despite the awkward angle and the medical equipment and the fact that we're absolutely not supposed to be doing this in a hospital room.

The kiss tastes like burnt cedar and coffee and something uniquelyCale—bitter and sweet and achingly familiar.

We're both breathless when we finally break apart, gasping for air while our foreheads rest together.

"Fuck," Cale curses quietly, the word ghosting across my lips. "I can't fucking think with the idea of someone else obsessing over you. Can't stop obsessing over you myself."

His voice drops lower, more vulnerable than I've heard it in months.