Page 10 of Knot My Type

Fen nods slowly, chewing on the idea. “It could work. But we need to be discreet. We’re not looking for any drama or trouble.”

“Of course not,” Rhys assures, his charm twinkling in his eyes. “Just a cozy romance to keep the fires burning and maybe distract us from the impending doom outside.”

“There’s no such thing as a ‘cozy romance’ without complexity, Rhys,” I remind him, crossing my arms. “We’re not just dragging someone here to fill a void.”

He straightens up, suddenly serious. “I know. But we can also give them a chance for a fresh start. It’s not just about us. An omega could offer perspective, warmth, and adventure. Something we all desperately need.”

“I’ll consider it,” I concede, still feeling the tight knot of apprehension in my chest. “But there are no guarantees. Heartbreak is part of this path.”

“The same can be said for love,” Fen interjects. “Every relationship has its risks. But if we don’t take that leap, we’ll never truly live. Stagnation isn’t survival—it’s the beginning of death in another form.”

“Damn, you’re poetic,” I tease lightly, but the weight of his words sinks deep.

“Well, poetry is generally born from pain, and we certainly have our fair share of that, don’t we?” Fen replies, his expression as serious as the snowstorm outside.

I lean back against the counter, crossing my arms as I weigh their words. “Alright then, if we’re actually doing this, how do we approach finding an omega? It’s not like we can just walk into a bar and order one.”

Rhys laughs, the tension breaking slightly. “No ‘Omegas on Tap’ sign hanging above the bar, huh?”

“Right. You can always go straight for the deep end,” I quip, shaking my head. “But what do we say? ‘Hey, we’re a pack of grizzly alphas looking for someone to keep us warm.’”

“Honestly? That might not be the worst strategy,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “Simplicity has its appeal! Theremight be omega initiates in the region willing to form a bond. We just have to be careful—it can’t just be about physical heat; there has to be emotional connection too.”

“It sounds like a typical mountain romance,” I mutter, feeling a knot in my stomach twist at the thought of vulnerability. “But what if we bring someone in and things don’t work out?”

Rhys steps closer, his expression serious again. “Then we adapt. Love is an unpredictable dance, Kael. You’ve faced danger in the mountains and navigated crises in the business world. Why should this be any different? You can’t avoid the risk—just learn to embrace it.”

"Besides," Fen adds in his usual deadpan manner, setting down another supply box with methodical precision, "having someone to come home to might lessen the burdens we carry. It's been too long since we shared warmth beyond obligations."

I look between them, feeling myself backing down a little too quickly as I lean against the windowsill. It's as if being idle for one day has made me think about matters of the heart, something I haven't thought about in a long time. But I hate to admit that Rhys is right—what's the point of work if there's never any fun? All work and no play makes an alpha go stark raving mad and start talking to kitchen appliances.

"Alright. I'll consider it. But we need to tread carefully," I finally say, straightening up as the weight of responsibility settles on my shoulders like a familiar coat. "No reckless decisions. This isn't just some game."

Rhys nods earnestly. “Absolutely! We take it slow. Gauge connections, see if there’s chemistry, and draw that magic line between companionship and something more.”

"And if it feels wrong? We pull back," Fen adds, pausing in his inventory counting to fix me with that piercing stare that cuts straight through to my doubts.

"Deal," I declare finally, pushing off from the windowsill feeling excited, but apprehensive at the same time. "We'll approach this thoughtfully."

Just as the words escape me, a howl of wind rushes against the cabin, rattling the windows and thrumming through the walls like a reminder of nature's unpredictability. Even so, the energy in this cramped space feels alive for the first time in weeks.

"Now, let's plan our attack!" Rhys claps his hands together and springs up from the couch, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he starts pacing the narrow strip between the fireplace and kitchen counter. At thirty-two, he still moves like he's ready to take on the world. "We'll start by reaching out to the local packs tomorrow. We'll lay the groundwork and see what we can unearth. Then we'll plot our next move, like the tactical geniuses we are."

I can't help but chuckle at his excitement, crossing my arms as I watch him nearly trip over the coffee table in his enthusiasm. "Alright, Officer Charmer, I'm all in."

Fen offers a rare smile, a small curve to his lips that makes his usually serious thirty-four-year-old face seem almost approachable as he sets his clipboard on the kitchen counter. "Let's see what this storm brings us, then. It won't be easy, but if it could lead us to a place of warmth, it's worth the risk."

"No pressure, right?" I joke, running a hand through my hair as the tension in my chest eases slightly. "Besides, an omega who can cook and clean for us wouldn't be the worst thing either."

Rhys stops mid-pace and turns to stare at me, his sandy eyebrows shooting up. "Kael, we don't need a maid. We want someone to love."

I shrug, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth despite myself. "Well, someone who can cook us a decent meal wouldn't be bad either. Have you tasted what we've been surviving on?"

Fen snorts, moving to lean against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. "You need to spend more time in the kitchen yourself, my friend. Your idea of cooking is opening a can."

"Fair point," I concede, and we all share a laugh that fills the small cabin with warmth that has nothing to do with the crackling fire.

Rhys grins and claps both of us on the shoulders. "So we're really doing this?"

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