Page 52 of Knot Mine

“I’m done with this conversation, besides, isn’t Millie looking for you?” It’s my turn to get out of the tub, grabbing one of the towels from the side and my T-shirt, not bothering to dry as I make my way back into the cabin. I’m praying the chlorinated water masks my scent for long enough to give me some time to sneak up to my room, take my pills and duck into the bathroom.

As I go to close my bedroom door behind me, something blocks my way. Zale slips inside into the room and before I can say anything, he closes the door, locking it behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I hiss, as he steps forward, pulling me to him. He buries his face into my neck and hair.

“I had to know,” he growls, body pressed against mine.

“Had to know what?” I say, my words quiet and shaky as I try not to run my hands through his hair and rub myself in the scent of him. He’s not mine.

He’ll never be mine.

Chapter Twenty

Zale

Ipress my lips softly against his, and we both make small sounds of relief. Taking that as a sign to deepen our embrace, my tongue slips into his mouth. Humming and making appreciative noises, so he knows just how starved I am for him, I cup his face. Nubbing my thumbs over his neck, following the touch with small licks and bits, I mingle kisses with scent marking, claiming him. I need him to have no doubts about who he belongs to. There needs to be no question in his mind.

A charred sweetness lingers on the tip of my tongue, sending a shiver through me, making my body feel as I press my hard cock against his stomach.

“If it was the same, without the whiskey and weed,” I reply, my voice low and husky before I kiss him again.

The same?

No. It was better.

Shit. I could become addicted to this.

He places his hands on his chest, pushing me away, slipping out of my hold.

My alpha instincts roar, protesting at the space between us. He needs to be in my arms.Mine. Mine. Mine.

I watch his face change as he tries to shut down. Summoning the snarky attitude I know and have grown to love, he hisses, “Satisfied? Can I go now?”

“No,” I grumble, reaching for him again. Pulling him into my arms, I inhale deeply. This was what home smelled like. Like toffee apples and firewood. Like long nights in front of the fire, and autumn leaves.

Pressing my nose up the curve of my neck before I scrape my teeth against his skin, over that stupid band-aid gently. Should I bite him? Claim him right here, right now. That would eviscerate all traces of doubt. My alpha side loves the thought of it, wanting to rut into him as we mark him for everyone to see.Mine.

As I sat by the fireplace earlier watching him, watching Blake flirt with him, things had started to fall into place brick by brick.

I wasn’t imagining the connection between us. He had been slick for me when I was buried knuckle deep inside him and covered in his cum. That sweet butter smell with the apple tones, the crisp scent layer underneath, were his pheromones. They were being muted or suppressed somehow, so I’d always just assumed it was his body wash or his shampoo.

When I add in the information Hunter gives me about his parents and ‘the ick’, that’s when I realized that this possessiveness I felt towards Shiloh was normal.

It was normal because he was my Mate.

And suddenly it all made sense. He wasn’t just my Mate, but myomegaMate.

Turning us so that he’s pressed against the door, I kiss him until he melts in my arms, going soft and pliant. With a chuckle, I cruelly keep some space between us, loving the way his swimming trunks are tented as he whimpers for more.

When I’ve had my fill of his mouth, I move lower, sucking a love bite on his collarbone. Lower again as I leave small bitemarks on his sternum, each one making his hips roll and thrust towards me as his cock seeks out some sort of friction.

Sinking to my knees, I finally peel down the wet swim shorts, tossing them into his bathroom with a wet slapping noise as they land on the tile.

Burying my face in the crease of his groin, I inhale the scent of chlorine on his skin mixed with the charred caramel I know now to be his. It’s stronger now, and a part of me wishes I could bottle up the scent.

Shiloh may be trying to push me away, to draw lines between us by using his sister as a shield, but there’s no denying what his body wants. What it knows—that he is the other half of me.

With one hand firmly on his hip, I let the other wander with feather light touches, following each and every soft curve and hard line of his body.

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