Page 11 of Knot My Type

I look around at my two closest friends, these men I've shared everything with for the past five years, and nod. "Yeah. We're really doing this."

FEN

The wind howls through the bare branches as if it’s angry and relentless. I hunch deeper into my worn leather jacket, the collar turned up against the driving snow that seems determined to find every gap in my defenses. My old truck's heater wheezes gamely, but the cold has a way of seeping in regardless, settling into my bones with the familiar ache that comes with winter in these mountains. It serves me right; Kael and Rhys always tease me about this old thing. It was my father’s and his before him. It’s been in the family one generation after another, and seeing as both are dead, I inherited it. It feels as if it is the only thing I have left of my family. But it’s old, and it is clear that as many times as I’ve fixed it up, with the climate changes, this old truck can’t cope with the cold—not like it used to.

I've been driving for the better part of two hours now, the road ahead barely visible through the snow. The smart thing would be to turn back, to hole up in my cabin with a book and a hot cup of coffee until the storm passes. But Kael was insistent that we need to make this trip today, storm or no storm. There's an omega down in Millbrook who might be interested in meeting us, and time is of the essence.

I’ve settled for being a beta, the steady anchor between the two alphas I live with both Kael and Rhys, but it’s time to move on. We need an omega to keep us bonded. I've watched Kael and Rhys circle each other for years now, two alphas trying to form a pack bond that feels incomplete without the third piece of their puzzle. They need an omega—not just any omega, but the right one. Someone whose scent harmonizes with theirs, whose presence calms the restless energy that buzzes between my two packmates.

The windshield wipers nearly give up against the accumulating snow. I lean forward, squinting through the glass, when something dark catches my eye through the white haze. At first, I think it might be a deer or elk, which isn’t unusual on these mountain roads. But as I draw closer, my heart rate picks up.

It's a car, tilted at an unnatural angle in the ditch beside the road.

My foot finds the brake automatically, my truck sliding slightly on the slick pavement before coming to a stop. The sensible part of my mind—the part that's kept me alive through winters in these mountains—tells me that I should call for help and keep driving. The storm is getting worse, and getting stuck out here could be deadly.

Even as the thought forms, I'm already pulling over, already reaching for my emergency kit in the back seat. This is who I am, who I've always been—the one who can't drive past someone in need, the one who steps in when others step back.

The cold hits me like a punch to the face when I open the truck door, stealing my breath and making my eyes water. Snow immediately begins accumulating on my shoulders and in my hair as I trudge toward the disabled vehicle, my boots crunching through the deepening drifts.

The sedan sits half-buried in a snowbank, its front end angled awkwardly, as if it lost control and skidded sideways before coming to a halt. The engine is silent, frost already forming on the windows, but there's definitely someone inside.

I approach the driver's side window, cupping my hands against the glass to peer inside. What I see makes my chest tighten with concern—and something else. Something deeper, more primal, that I can't immediately place.

A woman sits hunched over the steering wheel, her dark hair covers her face. Even through the glass, even with the storm muffling everything else, I catch a scent that makes every instinct I possess suddenly snap to attention.

Omega. And not just any omega—one in the early stages of heat.

I stagger back, heart pounding. This isn't supposed to happen. Kael and Rhys are supposed to be here, to handle this. I don't make these decisions alone. Even though we all left the cabin together, they refused to get in my truck so they hoped in Kael, no doubt they’re probably back in the cabin and here I am with an omega. We didn’t even make it to Millbrook, because the storm was so bad. We turned around, but I couldn’t not at their speed.

I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting Kael to appear from the trees, his sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion. He'd think I'd gone behind his back, brought in an omega without consulting him. He'd be furious.

An omega alone, in heat, stranded in a blizzard—this is exactly the kind of situation that can turn dangerous quickly. Heat makes omegas vulnerable, desperate, and the isolation will only amplify those effects.

I can't leave her like this. Not when she's in heat, exposed to the elements, to danger. I might not have the instincts of an alpha, but I know what's right.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. This isn't about pack politics. It's about doing what's necessary.

I tap gently on the window, not wanting to startle her. The woman's head lifts slowly, and I find myself looking into dark eyes that are wide with fear and something else—the glazed look that comes with heat hormones beginning to surge through someone's system.

She's beautiful, with the kind of soft, generous curves that speak of comfort and warmth. Her face is round and expressive, her skin flushed as if she’s going into heat. Yet, it’s her eyes that catch me—dark as midnight, filled with intelligence even through the haze of her condition.

“Hello?” I call through the glass, keeping my voice gentle but letting it carry easily through the storm. "Are you hurt?"

She blinks at me slowly, and I can see her struggling to focus. Heat can do that, especially in the early stages—make thinking difficult, as if the world seem soft around the edges.

After a moment that feels like an eternity, she manages to crack the window. The scent that escapes makes my knees nearly buckle. Sweet like honey and warm spices, with an underlying note of distress that makes my protective instincts roar to life.

"I think I'm stuck."

Under any circumstances, I would laugh, but I can’t this time, because it’s far from funny. Instead, I feel my heart break a little at the obvious confusion in her voice.

"I'm Fen," I say, keeping my tone calm and steady. "I'm going to help you, okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

She shakes her head slowly, then seems to consider the question more carefully. "No, I don't think so. The car just started sliding, and then..." She gestures vaguely at the snow bank.

"That's okay," I tell her, already making calculations in my head. The car isn't going anywhere tonight, that much iscertain. And leaving her here isn't an option—not with the storm intensifying and her heat beginning to manifest. "What's your name?"

"Eliana," she whispers.

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