Page 53 of Knot My Type

"Hey." I reach out slowly, telegraphing the movement, and take her hand in both of mine. Her skin is fever-hot and slightly damp with perspiration. "Look at me. Kael and Rhys have been half out of their minds wanting you for weeks. This isn't trouble, sweetheart. This is a gift."

She searches my face, looking for deception or doubt. Whatever she sees there seems to reassure her, because some of the tension leaves her shoulders.

"Okay," she whispers. "Okay, wake them. But Fen? Don't leave me alone. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere."

I squeeze her hand gently, then reluctantly release it. "I'll be right back."

The hallway feels arctic after the heat of her room. I can still taste her scent on my tongue, rich and complex and utterly intoxicating. My body is responding whether I want it to or not—heart racing, skin sensitized, a deep ache building in my core that has nothing to do with my own needs and everything to do with the omega who trusts us enough to be vulnerable.

Kael's door is closest, so I try there first. One quiet knock and he's awake—alphas always are during potential pack emergencies. The door opens to reveal him in nothing but sleep pants, his massive frame filling the doorway. His dark hair is mussed from sleep, but his eyes are alert.

"What's wrong?" he asks immediately.

"Eliana's in heat."

The change in him is instantaneous. His pupils dilate, his nostrils flare as he catches the scent that's undoubtedly seeping through the walls, and every line of his body goes tight with barely controlled alpha instinct.

"Fuck," he breathes. "How long?"

"Started a few minutes ago. She's scared, Kael. She hasn't had a heat in almost a year."

His expression gentles slightly. "Trauma response?"

"That's my guess. Her body shut down to protect her, and now that she feels safe..." I don't need to finish the sentence, because he understands me.

"Rhys?"

"On my way to wake him now."

Kael nods, already moving toward his dresser to grab a shirt. "I'll get supplies. Food, water, whatever she might need. Meet you in her room in five."

I find Rhys already stirring when I knock on his door. The alpha senses are picking up what's happening, even in sleep.

"Fen?" His voice is groggy but concerned. "What's—" He stops mid-sentence as the full implications hit him. I watch awareness dawn in those green eyes, followed quickly by something that looks like relief mixed with desire.

"She's asking for all of us," I tell him.

The smile that crosses his face is soft and wondering. "She's choosing us. Really choosing us."

"Looks like it."

He's up and moving before I can say anything else, grabbing clothes and running hands through his sandy hair to tame it into something resembling order.

"How is she?" he asks as we head back down the hallway.

"Scared. Overwhelmed. But she wants us there." I pause outside her door. "Rhys, she hasn't done this in a year. We need to be careful with her."

His expression sobers. "Of course. Whatever she needs, however she needs it."

The scent when we re-enter her room is even stronger now, thick enough to taste. Eliana is curled on her side, clutching a pillow to her chest. Her breathing is rapid and shallow, and I can see the fine tremor in her hands.

"Hey, sweetheart," Rhys says softly, his natural charm gentling his voice. "How are you doing?"

She looks up at him, and I watch something settle in her expression. Relief, maybe. Or recognition—the omega part of her brain cataloging the presence of her alphas, her pack, her safety.

"Better now that you're here," she admits. "All of you."

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