Page 14 of Knot My Type

But just as I’m about to argue further, something shifts. The woman’s eyelids flutter, and for a heartbeat, she’s aware of her surroundings. “Fine,” she whispers, her voice barely audible above the howling winds outside before her eyes roll back and she slumps lifelessly again.

My heart sinks at the sight. “Dammit!” I exclaim, instinctively moving closer to Fen and the woman, ready to intervene if necessary. “We can’t have her perish here! Get her to the fireplace.” My protective instincts force their way to the forefront, compelling me to act even as my mind warns me of the risks.

Fen shifts, maneuvering the woman carefully, and I follow them into the main room. I can feel Rhys at my back, adding his energy to the fray and grounding me in the chaos. As Fen lays her gently near the hearth, I take in the woman’s features moreclearly. She’s disheveled, her once vibrant hair matted with frost, and an expression of pain etched onto her delicate features.

“What do we know about her?” I demand, glancing at Fen as he kneels next to the fireplace, stoking the flames higher. “Does she have anything on her?”

Fen shakes his head, a frown marring his brow. “Not that I could see. Just her car out there, abandoned. I think she was trapped by the storm.” He glances back at her, the worry and protectiveness in his stance palpable.

I can’t afford to let my instincts override my logic, but there’s a part of me that pulls toward her irresistibly. The scent that clings to her—that floral undertone combined with a note of vanilla—draws me in despite my better judgment.

I rub my temples, feeling the tension coil within me. “We can’t risk exposure, Fen. You know that! If anyone catches wind that we’ve taken in an omega, we’re done for.” My voice sounds harsh, but I can’t help it—I’m scared. Scared for our safety, scared for her.

Rhys steps up beside me. “Kael, stop. She’s not just any omega. She provides a chance for us to rebuild something meaningful. Remember, we were going to Millbrook to get one. What if we had bonded with her there? We would have to bring her here eventually, this is what we agreed.” The sincerity in his tone catches me off-guard; Rhys always knows how to appeal to my compassion.

“She’s a liability,” I retort, unable to shake the feeling that this was a mistake. “We can’t bring her into our world—what if her presence attracts danger? Our lives depend on keeping a low profile.”

“She’s half-frozen, Kael!” Rhys counters, his tone sharp. “Let’s at least warm her up and see if she can communicate. What if she’s more than just a stranded omega? We can’t turn our backs on someone in need.”

Fen nods earnestly, glancing from me to Rhys and back again. “You can’t deny she needs help. And what if she has information that could help us? Even if she doesn’t have a pack anymore, she might know something about the council.”

I study the woman, lying helplessly on the floor. Every instinct to protect and defend rises to the surface, battling the voice of caution in my head. But I can’t ignore the long-locked yearning to welcome someone into our fold, especially one who feels just as lost as we do.

“Fine,” I finally relent, the words escaping my lips as a reluctant agreement. “But if she becomes a risk, we’ll have to send her back. We can’t risk drawing attention to ourselves.”

Rhys exclaims with relief, his tone boisterous. “See? You’re not a monster, Kael! Let's just make sure she warms up first.” He moves over to the stove, gathering blankets and towels, preparing for her to regain consciousness.

I can’t let go of my caution, but something in me jumps at the thought of a new connection—something I haven’t felt in so long, not since the last pack I’d called home was decimated. There’s a chance I can turn this around, and I can’t help but hope that maybe she can be a part of something again, too.

I glance down at her resting, noticing the way her chest gently rises and falls. “Do you think she’ll be incapacitated long?” I ask, trying to mask my concern, but Fen is quick to respond.

“If she doesn’t wake soon, I’m getting worried,” he says, kneeling beside her. The soft glow from the fire highlights the fine lines of worry on his face. “We need to monitor her.”

As if on cue, Eliana stirs, her eyelids fluttering momentarily before she murmurs something incoherent. My heart races in unexpected rhythm, and a rush of protectiveness surges like a tidal wave. I step closer, drawn to the sight of her vulnerability.

“Stay with us,” I whisper softly, beckoning the warmth of the fire closer to both of us as if it could shield us from any impending danger.

Her eyes flutter open for just a moment, and I catch a glimpse of clarity amidst the confusion. “Fine,” she whispers, the word barely escaping her lips before she slumps back under the weight of unconsciousness.

“She needs help now, Kael,” Fen urges, eyes wide with concern that matches my own. “What do we do?”

I lock eyes with Fen, a silent exchange passing between us. “We have to warm her up, stabilize her. I’ll get more blankets from the storeroom.” Slipping past Rhys, I move quickly, my heart pounding with the weight of responsibility pressing heavily on my chest.

I rummage through the items stacked in the closet—extra blankets, thick quilts—and grab as many as I can carry. My mind races with possibilities about who she is and what brought her to this moment. An unbonded omega alone in a storm feels like a tragedy waiting to unfold.

Returning to the main room, I see Fen still kneeling by her side, his expression brimming with worry as he brushes her hair back gently. There’s a softness in him I didn’t expect, a protective instinct that glimmers just beneath his tough exterior. Rhys is rummaging through the kitchen, searching for something warm for her—maybe tea or broth. “We need to wake her up,” I say, trying to hide the fear clawing at my gut.

“Just hold on, Eliana,” Fen murmurs, using her name instinctively as if he already feels the bond forming.

I turn back toward the fireplace, tossing the blankets onto the floor near the fire. “Let’s move her,” I direct, feeling a surge of urgency. There’s too much at stake, and I can’t shake off the sense that we’re already pushing our luck by sheltering her.

“I’ll help you,” Fen responds, moving closer with determination. Together, we lift her gently, and I can’t help but notice how fragile she feels. A fierce protectiveness arises within me. She’s an omega—my instincts call to me, demanding I safeguard her. I feel the scent of her lingering in the air, beckoning, stirring something deep within my core.

As we settle her closer to the fire, I can finally see the details that make her who she is—freckles dusting her nose, soft lines of concern etched on her forehead, and that faint whisper of flower and earthy tones weaving around her. The warmth of the flames slowly begins to infuse the air, wrapping around us like a balm as Rhys returns with a steaming mug of tea.

“Here, let’s try this,” he says, kneeling beside her. “It’s chamomile. Should help.” He carefully guides the cup toward her lips, tilting it just enough for her to sip.

I watch, tension coiling in my stomach. Will she wake up? What do we do if she doesn’t? The storm thunders outside, and the cabin feels even smaller, encasing us in a bubble of vulnerability exposed to the chaos beyond.

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