Chapter 7: Stay here in car

The car wound back onto the mountain road, and the man beside her had grown noticeably quieter.

Amelia turned to glance at him a few times. Apart from the first look, all she saw was Liam leaning his head against the window, staring blankly outside.

When they entered the city's downtown area, Liam suddenly straightened up.

"Turn right at the next intersection," he said hoarsely, voice pitched lower than before. "Drop me off at the next light."

Amelia slowed the car down. Without thinking, she reached over and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Not feverish. She pulled her hand back. "Are you in pain somewhere?"

From the moment her skin brushed his, a strange sensation bloomed in Liam’s chest. Unstable. Uncontrollable.

“I’m fine,” he murmured.

The car came to a stop by the curb. "Liam," Amelia called.

He turned his head. His complexion was even paler than it had been back at the Langley estate.

“Let me out,” he said, voice strained. “Please.”

“What’s going on with you?” she asked, but the words barely left her mouth before the earthy scent of green hazelnuts hit her nose.

Her eyes narrowed. "Let me see your glands."

Liam’s breath hitched. The softness in his gaze was gone, replaced by something more primal, raw and unfiltered.

Sanity flickered back just long enough for him to mutter, “Are there inhibitors in the car?”

“Are you out of your damn mind?” she snapped. The skin around his nape was visibly red, glowing hot. “The doctor said your glands can't take any more strain!”

“But it hurts,” he whispered. “Worse than before. Way worse.”

“I want to smell you. I want to be closer.”

His grip tightened around the velvet blanket on his lap, crushing it in his fists. It was all folds and wrinkles now, just like his thoughts—messy, tangled, breaking apart.

“Amelia…” He gritted his teeth. “Just let me out. Please.”

His voice trembled on the edge of desperation, forehead veined with the effort of restraint. He didn’t want her to see him like this. Not today. Not when they were just beginning.

But then, he smelled something else in the car—something not his own. A sharp redcurrant note, sweet but biting. Her pheromones.

He turned sharply. She had removed the barrier patch from her neck.

She took his clenched hand from the blanket and held it firmly. The next thing he knew, her body leaned over. Her arms wrapped around him. Her hair, loose and wild, fell onto his skin—tickling his neck.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, voice low and solid. “You’ll be okay. Just stay here in the car.”

She patted his back as she spoke. Outside, the city buzzed on. The sky had darkened. Streetlights blinked to life. In the sea of constant traffic, the black military jeep sat unnoticed, swallowed by shadows.

Inside, their bodies still leaned into each other, locked in an unspoken moment. Pheromones filled the vehicle—green hazelnut and redcurrant, swirling thick in the air.

Amelia could feel the tension slowly fade from the man in her arms.

.....

A car passed, and its headlights briefly lit up the interior. In that flash, she saw it—the back of his neck. His gland was visibly damaged, but next to it was something else: a scar. Deep. Healed.

“Amelia,” he said softly, calling her name.

She looked down. “Still hurting?”

Liam braced himself on either side of the seat and pulled away from her embrace. “Better,” he whispered.

“Don’t say thank you.” She stretched her arms and rolled her neck out of stiffness. “Just answer one thing—how’d you get through your heat before?”

Liam lowered his gaze to the blanket again. His voice, when it came, was cold, soaked in something heavy. “It was never like this before.”

“You mean... because of me?”

Liam turned and looked at her. His eyes were still tinged red. But he smiled. “Yes. Because of you.”

She had meant to tease him, maybe provoke a little shame. But he said it so easily, so directly, that her words caught in her throat.

“You’re more honest than I thought,” she muttered, clicking her seatbelt into place. She started the engine again and merged the car into traffic.

Liam didn’t say anything else. The effort had drained him. After giving her the address, he leaned back and drifted into sleep.

The interior of the car was still thick with the scent of his pheromones. Amelia instinctively reached for the window controls but stopped midway. He was sleeping next to her. She didn’t want to disturb him.

Instead, she pulled open the center console, grabbed a fresh barrier patch, checked the expiration date, and bit a corner of the wrapper open.

She pressed it to the back of her neck.

Outside, the lights of the city passed in blurs. Inside Liam’s dreams, flashes of instinct and memory flickered—vivid, then distant. Like smoke in a locked room, impossible to clear.

.......

The smoke from her mouth was quickly carried away by the wind.

Amelia stood outside the jeep with a cigarette hanging between her lips, eyes half-squinted against the breeze as she scrolled through the stream of messages flooding the group chat.

Knox:[Captain, you home?]

She hadn’t seen it when it first came through—she was still driving then. But Maverick had already replied:

Maverick:[Captain's not home.]

Knox:[She went out without you?]

Maverick: [She had something to do. Not really my place to follow.]

Knox: [Not your place?]

James: [Not your place?]

Benjamin: [Not your place?]

Emily: [Not your place?]

Victoria: [What the hell do you all mean ‘not your place’? Can someone explain?]

That last message was the grenade. It blew up the whole group. Notifications pinged nonstop, her phone shaking in her hand from the barrage.

Amelia exhaled another lazy stream of smoke, watching the chaos unfold. If she didn’t say something soon, they’d still be going by sunrise.

Knox: [Maverick, where are you? You’re the only one who knows. Spill.]

Maverick, predictably, went silent.

Amelia watched the screen, expression unreadable. Then she tapped out a short reply with one hand while holding the cigarette with the other:

Amelia: [What do you want to know?]

Simple words. The chat went dead silent.

Knox: [Captain, I was wrong!]

She slid the cigarette back between her lips and switched hands on the phone.

Amelia: [Wrong about what?]

Knox: [I shouldn’t have run my mouth.]

Amelia: [What else?]

Knox: [I shouldn’t gossip. And I really shouldn’t gossip about the captain’s private life!]

Amelia: [Keep going.]

On the other end, Knox stared at his phone like it might explode. He turned to the others. “What the hell did I even say just now?”

James, who was sitting nearby cleaning his gun, didn’t even look up. “Are you stupid? There’s a whole chat record. Read it. Apologize for every word. Each one’s a crime.”

Knox wilted. “Why am I always the one who gets screwed?”

Victoria, closest to him, reached over and patted his bristly buzz cut. “Maybe it’s your superpower—always stepping on landmines.”

Knox blinked. “Is that a compliment?”

James chimed in again, voice dry: “Just go apologize. Before this turns into something more than just saying sorry.”

One by one, Knox started replying to his own messages with apologies.

Amelia scrolled through his flood of groveling and typed: Amelia: [You picking a fight with me?]

Everyone else in the chat burst out laughing—everyone except Knox, who looked like he was ready to bury himself alive.

Knox: [Captain, that’s not what I meant!]

Amelia flicked the last bit of ash from her cigarette, turned back to the car—and caught the eyes of someone who’d clearly woken up without her noticing.

She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the air. “Did I wake you?”

Liam shook his head. “No.”

She leaned into the car to grab a tissue from the center console, wrapped the cigarette butt, and asked, “Feeling better?”

Liam, still half-asleep, mumbled, voice low and a little spoiled—which Amelia, sharp as ever, picked up on instantly.

“Much better. Where are we?”

“Still dizzy?” she asked with a slight smirk.

Without waiting for his answer, Amelia turned and walked to the nearby trash can to toss the tissue. When she came back, she didn’t go to the driver’s side. Instead, she opened the passenger door and leaned on it with one arm, looking inside.

Liam was watching her too, eyes lazily half-lidded, still lost somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. He didn’t bother hiding the way he looked at her—open, direct.

In the dim light of night, Amelia’s expression was hard to read, but Liam could sense something was off. She was smiling—but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Did I cause you trouble?” he asked quietly.

Amelia just stood there, staring at him for a few long seconds.

“Liam,” she said with a smile on her lips.

“Yeah?” he replied softly.

She raised a hand to tuck her wind-blown hair behind her ear. “It’s nothing serious. I just wanted to talk.”

“Go ahead. I’m listening,” Liam said, his gaze steady and serious.

“It’s easy to put on the mask,” she said slowly. “But when it comes time to take it off… you realize it’s a hell of a lot harder than you expected.”

They looked at each other in silence—two people cloaked in calm, but both carrying undercurrents neither of them dared to voice.

Liam didn’t reply. He just watched her.

A breeze swept between them, carrying away the last lingering trace of scent from the car. The faint, comforting sweetness of redcurrant pheromones vanished. And with it, the calm Liam had felt started to slip.

The pain in his gland—the one that haunted his memories—flared back up, sharp and unwelcome, spreading cold panic through his chest.

But he didn’t show it.

The more it hurt, the more he smiled.

“Thanks for driving me back,” Liam said instead, sidestepping what she’d said entirely. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to respond. He just couldn’t—not right now. Better silence than a lie.

Amelia studied him, then nodded, her expression smoothing into something unreadable. “Want me to carry you out of the car?”

Liam blinked, stunned. “You really do have a thing for hugging me, don’t you?”

Amelia nodded without missing a beat. “As a soldier, I think it’s only right to offer assistance when someone needs it. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes.”

Liam let out a soft laugh.

He liked her like this. Hell, he liked her *any* way. Whether she was joking or serious, cold or warm—Amelia was Amelia, and that was enough.

The tension between them eased. Just like that, they returned to the rhythm they always seemed to fall into.

Amelia walked around to the back of the car and pulled out his wheelchair. She waited silently as Liam slowly shifted himself out of the seat, using the door and frame to brace his weight. By the time he was settled in the chair, there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

Catching his breath, Liam looked up at her, grinning. “You really don’t believe in helping, huh?”

“I do,” she replied, grinning right back. “But if I help, I go all in. So next time, be sure to ask me for the full package.”