Page 74 of Hard Knot

She'd switched effortlessly between languages, her voice carrying each accent and inflection perfectly.

"Five by default," she'd answered, her movement never faltering as she circled Carter's chair.

There was something predatory in the way she moved around him, like a cat playing with its prey. Her hand had traced along his shoulders, fingers dancing across his skin with deliberate lightness.

The way she touched him was like another form of dance—precise yet sensual, controlled but with an underlying current of something wilder. When she hooked her arm around the front of his neck, leaning down to brush her lips against his skin, the movement was so smooth it looked choreographed.

Carter had melted into the touch, a groan escaping him as his head fell back. The sound seemed to please her — I caught the hint of a smile just before she pressed another kiss to his neck. His hand came up to tangle in her hair, pulling her down into a proper kiss that made the air in the room feel electric.

The chemistry between them was undeniable.

The way they moved together, responded to each other—it was like watching two expert dancers performing a duet they'd rehearsed for years, except this was completely spontaneous and only one had to be moving to give the illusion of a refined performance.

Every action and reaction flowed naturally, as if they could read each other's minds.

Their scents had blended perfectly too, creating something new and intoxicating.

Carter's usual warm musk and whiskey merged with her sweet-dark aroma to produce a fragrance that filled the roomwith promises of passion and possibility. It was the kind of scent combination that made even my head spin — and I'm usually immune to such things.

Scent compatibility at that level is rare.

I'd heard of it before — true scent matches, where two people's pheromones complement each other so perfectly it creates an almost instant bond. But I'd never actually witnessed it firsthand. It explained their immediate connection, the way they seemed to gravitate toward each other without conscious thought.

Even now, hours later, Carter's scent lingered on her skin, marking her in a way that went beyond physical attraction. It was like their essences had merged, creating something entirely new and powerful.

She'd listed off her languages between kisses — English, Russian, Portuguese, French, and Italian — each one rolling off her tongue like music. She even admitted she’s trying to get the hang of German.

Carter had watched her with a mix of awe and desire that I'd never seen on his face before, not even when acquiring his most prized cars. His gaze was just glued on her, watching every movement like a hawk waiting to strike, but I’m positive that my absence would have encouraged another round of sexual endeavors that would echo through the house.

I wouldn’t even complain.

They fit together so naturally, it was almost painful to watch. Like witnessing something private and precious, a connection that transcended the usual Alpha-Omega dynamics we were all so tired of playing out.

In the end, it was obvious this was more primal — the kind of bond that could either save us all or tear everything apart if things didn’t go the right way.

And I'm not sure which outcome I'm hoping for.

The memory shifts, becoming hazier around the edges as the night had progressed and the alcohol had really kicked in.

Carter had suggested musical chairs of all things — probably just looking for an excuse to get his hands on Elizabeth again.

Not that he needed one, given how naturally they gravitated toward each other.

They'd stumbled around his prized vintage armchair, both far too drunk to maintain any semblance of grace. Elizabeth's dancer's poise had abandoned her completely, replaced by genuine, unrestrained joy as she giggled and squealed every time Carter caught her.

"That's cheating!" she'd laughed as he grabbed her waist, pulling her down onto his lap instead of letting her claim the chair. "You can't just—Carter!" Her protest dissolved into more laughter as he buried his face in her neck.

The sound of their combined laughter had echoed through the kitchen at 2 AM, probably loud enough to wake the dead. Elizabeth's platinum hair had come completely loose from its earlier style, falling around them both like a curtain as she'd twisted in his lap to face him.

I remember thinking how different she looked in that moment—all traces of the defiant, carefully controlled Omega gone, replaced by someone who seemed genuinely happy.

The kind of happiness that makes you forget about everything else…

Carter hadn't been much better, his usual dangerous grace replaced by clumsy enthusiasm as he'd tried to stand up with Elizabeth still in his arms.

They'd nearly toppled over, both dissolving into more laughter.

"Put me down!" she'd demanded between giggles, not making any actual effort to escape. "You're going to drop me!"

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