Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 23

Kael’s pov

“Stop trying to take away my dignity, Mira. That’s all I have left. That and my ability to whine. And maybe a very questionable sense of humor.”

She cleaned the wound, and yes, I screamed. Loudly. The walls definitely shook. One of the nurses dropped her clipboard.

“You’re such a baby,” Mira muttered.

“I’m sensitive!” I gasped. “I was raised in a pack with manners! We don’t tolerate pain unless it’s stylish!”

“You once ate a whole bag of chili jerky and nearly passed out.”

“That’s different. That was pride. This is a medical emergency.”

“You’re literally just scratched!”

“And emotionally wounded!”

She pressed the gauze down firmly, and I let out a noise that could only be described as a sob-meets-pterodactyl.

“Done,” she said, finally taping it down. “You’ll live.”

I blinked up at her. “Are you sure? Because I see a light.”

“That’s the ceiling lamp.”

“Oh.”

I lay there dramatically for another five seconds. Mira rolled her eyes and turned to clean up, but I sat up slowly, hissing through my teeth like I was doing her a favor by surviving.

“Hey, Mira?”

She glanced at me.

“Thanks,” I muttered, and for once, I meant it without sarcasm. “You didn’t have to drag me here.”

She smirked. “I considered leaving you on the ground. But then who’d entertain the infirmary staff with overacting and whimpering?”

“I prefer the term expressive suffering.”

“Of course you do.”

I wobbled to my feet, testing the pressure on the leg. It still hurt like hell, but I could walk. Kinda. Like an old man with a grudge.

“You sure you don’t want crutches?” Mira teased.

“I don’t need crutches. I need emotional support. Possibly cake. Or an apology letter from that horse.”

She laughed, which was rare, and it made me grin.

I gave her a half-hearted salute. “Right. Back to work. Try not to miss me too much.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Impossible. It’s my coping mechanism.”

I hobbled out, still muttering curses about unpredictable horses and overzealous medics, but truth was—I didn’t mind being babied a little.

Even warriors need to be dragged to safety sometimes.

I limped down the hallway with the elegance of a one-legged flamingo who’d just lost a dance-off. The pain was real. The trauma was fresh. But more importantly—I needed a snack.

Infirmaries never served cookies. Criminal, really.

I was halfway to my room, already fantasizing about collapsing face-first into my pillow like the tragic hero I was, when a figure jumped out from behind the corner.

I yelped.

Not a masculine warrior’s grunt.

Nope.

A full, high-pitched, undignified yelp that echoed down the corridor.

“Kael!” a voice squeaked.

Oh.

Her.

Lisa.

In all her shy, nervous glory, standing in front of me like she just committed a felony and wasn’t sure whether to confess or bolt.

“Hi?” I said slowly, still recovering from my near heart attack.

She held something in both hands, arms extended like an offering to an angry deity. “Um… I brought you this…”

I blinked down at what she held.

Pain relief tonic and an energy drink.

I don’t know what hit me harder—her showing up like a sweet little medic gremlin, or the sheer intensity of her not making eye contact. Girl looked like she was fighting off a panic attack just by standing near me.

“You brought me… drugs and sugar?” I asked.

She nodded.

I took them solemnly, like some noble warrior accepting gifts from a trembling villager.

“Why, fair maiden,” I said dramatically, placing one hand on my chest, “you honor me.”

Her cheeks exploded in color.

She squeaked something I didn’t quite catch—probably an apology—and spun around so fast she almost tripped over her own boots before vanishing down the hall like the room was on fire.

I blinked after her.

Well.

That happened.

“Someone’s got a girlfriend,” a voice sang out behind me.

I groaned and turned around slowly.

Atlas.

Leaning against the wall with his arms folded, smirking like he just caught me writing love poems.

“Were you there the whole time?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. Front row seat.” He started walking toward me. “Didn’t know you were into the shy, soft-spoken type.”

“I’m not,” I replied smoothly. “I’m into snacks and survival. She gave me both.”

He raised a brow. “She brought you pain tonic. That’s care, Kael. That’s—what do they call it—nurturing.”

“Or maybe she felt bad I almost got turned into wolf-jelly by a horse because she forgot how reins work.”

Atlas snorted. “You’re deflecting.”

I shrugged. “You’re projecting. That was the most interaction I’ve had all week. Let me have this.”

“I just find it interesting. You, the guy who once told a girl her perfume smelled like expired cherries, actually said thank you without sarcasm.”

“I was in pain!”

“And now you’re in denial.”

“Oh, I see. You’re in one of those moods today.”

“The observant and teasing older brother mood? Yes, I am.”

I huffed, limping forward.

Atlas fell into step beside me. “So, are you two—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

“I mean, it would be cute. You saving her, her bringing you healing stuff. It’s like the start of a romcom.”

“Atlas.”

“Do you dream of her braiding your hair?”

I turned to him, deadpan. “If you don’t stop talking, I will absolutely hobble into your room, lie on your bed, and fart until you cry.”

He paused.

Then grinned. “Challenge accepted.”

I changed direction instantly, grinning like a man possessed. “Game on.”

“Don’t you dare—Kael, you’re not serious—”

“Oh, I’m deadly serious. Don’t test an injured man with nothing to lose.”

We reached his door. Atlas tried to block it, but I was faster—injured leg and all. I shoved it open with my shoulder, dramatically stumbled in, and flopped onto his mattress with a loud, satisfied sigh.

“Victory,” I breathed.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I’m also wounded. You can’t insult me. It’s illegal.”

He walked in behind me, closing the door with a groan. “Now I have to burn the sheets.”

“You should be honored I’m blessing your room with my suffering.”

He collapsed into the chair across from the bed and threw a pillow at my face. “You’re going to milk this horse injury for a week, aren’t you?”

I peeled the pillow off and grinned. “Try two.”

He groaned again, rubbing his temples. “Gods help me.”

“Hey, at least now you have a story to tell. ‘My brother got kicked by a horse while saving a girl who can't steer. Then she brought him an energy drink and vanished like a ninja.’”

“Do not add this to our family history.”

“Oh, it’s already canon. Enzo will find out. Ash will pretend he doesn’t care. You? You’ll laugh until you cry.”

Atlas smirked. “Maybe. If she kisses you next time, I’m buying a cake.”

“I’ll eat the whole thing out of spite.”

“You already do.”

I tossed the pillow back at him.

And just like that, we were back to normal—banter, teasing, the usual chaos.

But even as I joked, I couldn’t stop thinking about Lisa’s face when she handed me the drink.

She was terrified.

But she still came.

Still offered kindness.

Still ran off like the floor was lava.

And something about that… stuck with me more than I cared to admit.