Page 17 of Knot My Type

"Are you scared?" I ask, because I am, a little. This is completely uncharted territory.

She thinks about it seriously, her thumb tracing patterns on my chest that leave trails of fire in their wake. "No. Surprised, maybe. Overwhelmed. But not scared." She opens her eyes, meeting my gaze head-on. "Are you?"

"A little," I admit. "This is huge. Life-changing. And we're making it up as we go."

"Together," she says firmly. "We're making it up together."

That simple statement settles something restless in my chest. Together. Yeah, that sounds right. Whatever this is, whatever it means, we'll figure it out side by side.

I become aware of how her body fits against mine—her full breasts pressed against my chest, the soft curve of her hip under my hand, the way her thick thigh is thrown over mine. Every point of contact feels electric, sending little shocks through my system. She's so warm, so soft, and she smells incredible—like vanilla and something floral, mixed with the sharper scent of her heat.

"You're beautiful," I say without thinking, and immediately feel my face heat up. But she just smiles, this shy, pleased expression that makes my chest tight.

"So are you," she says, and I can tell she means it.

Her fingers trace the line of my jaw, and I have to bite back a groan. Everything she does, every tiny touch, seems amplified. The bond between us pulses stronger, and I can feel her emotions mixing with mine—contentment, wonder, and underneath it all, a deep sense of rightness.

The light outside has faded to deep purple, and I realize we've been here for hours. Time moves differently in this bubble we've created, measured not in minutes but in heartbeats, in the rhythm of our breathing that's somehow synced up.

Eliana's getting heavier against me, her body finally giving in to exhaustion as the heat cycle runs its course. But even as she gets drowsy, she keeps touching me—a hand on my chest, her leg over mine, like her subconscious won't let her break the connection.

Her room smells like us now, our scents mixing and layering until I can't tell where hers ends and mine begins. It's intoxicating, this new smell that's uniquely ours.

"Fen?" Her voice is thick with sleep.

"Mmm?"

"Thank you. For staying. For not running when you figured out what was happening."

I press my lips on her head, breathing in the scent that's already becoming as familiar as my own. "Where the hell would I run to? We’re snowed in.”

It’s my attempt at a little joke, and to soften the mood. She makes this contented sound, burrowing deeper into my arms. Within minutes, her breathing evens out into deep sleep, but I stay awake, marveling at the weight of her trust, the way she's completely given herself over to my care.

The bond between us pulses gently, this warm current flowing back and forth, carrying comfort and security in both directions. I've heard people talk about bonding like it's claiming someone, marking territory. But this feels more like recognition—acknowledging something that was always there, just waiting for the right moment to show itself.

As the night gets deeper around us, I let myself imagine what comes next. Tomorrow Rhys and Kael will question what happened between us. But right now, with Eliana soft andtrusting in my arms, the future doesn't feel scary—it feels full of possibilities.

I close my eyes and sink into the bond, feeling it get stronger with each passing moment. Whatever comes next, we'll handle it together—beta and omega, connected by something rarer and more incredible than either of us ever hoped for.

In the quiet darkness of her room, surrounded by the mixed scent of our connection, I finally let sleep take me, my last thought a whispered promise to the woman in my arms: I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. We have all the time in the world to figure this out.

RHYS

The smell hits me before I'm even halfway up the hallway.

I freeze, because if I put my full weight on this floorboard, then it will creak. My coffee mug is halfway to my lips, as every alpha instinct I have suddenly roars to life. The ceramic is warm against my palm, steam still rising from the dark liquid inside, but I barely notice. My entire focus has narrowed to the scent wafting down from the door.

That's not just Eliana's usual sweet vanilla and jasmine signature. Hell, it's not even close. And it's definitely not Fen's barely-there beta scent that most people can't even detect unless they're standing right next to him. This is something else entirely—something rich and complex and so fucking intense it makes my chest tighten.

The scent rolls over me in waves, each one stronger than the last. There's Eliana's sweetness, yes, but it's deeper now, more mature somehow. Layered underneath is something earthier, warmer—something that reminds me of fresh bread and clean cotton and the way the air smells right after it rains.

"What the hell?" I mutter.

I set my mug down on the hall table with more force than necessary, the ceramic clinking against the wood surface. The sound seems impossibly loud in the morning quiet. My hands are fucking shaking, and I have to grip the banister to steady myself.

The scent hits me halfway down the hall. Eliana.

It shouldn’t be this strong — not unless she’s right behind the door, or something’s wrong. I slow down instinctively, every sense on edge. Her room’s at the far end, the door painted white like the others, but now it feels different. It feels important.

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