Page 60 of Knot My Type

"I finished it," she says, pride and nervousness warring in her voice. "This morning, while I was thinking. The last chapter just came to me."

"That's incredible," I say, meaning it. "What's it called?"

Her cheeks flush pink, but she meets my eyes steadily. "Finding Pack."

The title hits like a revelation, encompassing everything that's happened between us over these past weeks. Not just romance, not just desire, but the deeper recognition of belonging that's been building with each shared meal, each quiet conversation, each moment of understanding.

"Read it to us," Kael says suddenly, his voice rougher than usual.

"What?" Eliana blinks at him in surprise.

"The last chapter," he clarifies, settling onto the couch with an expectant expression. "I want to hear how it ends."

Fen immediately moves to sit beside him, patting the space between them meaningfully. "We all do."

I watch Eliana's face cycle through surprise, uncertainty, and finally a shy pleasure that makes my heart clench. "You really want to hear it?"

"More than anything," I tell her truthfully, taking the chair across from the couch so I can see her face as she reads.

She settles between Kael and Fen with a natural ease that speaks to how comfortable she's become with us, the manuscript balanced on her knees. Her fingers tremble slightly as she finds the right page, and the scent of her approaching heat grows stronger, more complex.

"Okay," she says, taking a breath. "But don't judge me if it's terrible."

"Impossible," Fen assures her, his hand finding hers and squeezing gently.

She begins to read, and her voice gradually grows stronger and more confident as she loses herself in the words. The story she tells is beautiful and raw and achingly familiar—a tale of a woman who finds herself snowed in with three men who show her what real love looks like. Who teach her that trust can be rebuilt, that home isn't a place but a feeling, that family is something you choose rather than something you're born into.

As she reads, I find myself watching her more than listening to the words. The way her face lights up when she reaches a passage she's particularly proud of, the way she unconsciously leans into Kael's warmth, the way her free hand fidgets with the hem of her sweater when she's nervous about our reactions.

She's beautiful like this, lost in her art, sharing something deeply personal with complete trust that we'll treat it with the respect it deserves. The realization hits me suddenly and completely: I am utterly, irrevocably in love with this woman. Not just with her body, not just with the omega aspects that call to my alpha nature, but with her mind, her heart, her fierce creativity and gentle strength.

When she finishes reading, the silence is profound. Kael's arm has found its way around her shoulders at some point, and Fen's hand is still clasped in hers. She looks between us with growing uncertainty, clearly worried about our lack of immediate response.

"It's perfect," I say finally. "Absolutely perfect."

"You think so?" The hope in her voice is almost painful to hear.

"I think," Kael says slowly, "that you've written something extraordinary. Something that's going to touch a lot of people who feel lost or displaced or unsure where they belong."

Fen nods agreement, his hazel eyes bright with emotion. "It's not just a romance, is it? It's about finding yourself, about learning to trust your own instincts about what makes you happy."

Eliana's smile could power the entire house. "Exactly. That's exactly what I was trying to say."

She sets the manuscript aside carefully, then turns to face us with an expression of such open vulnerability it makes my breath catch. "I meant what I said before. About wanting to stay. About being home."

"Even knowing what that means?" I ask gently. "The complications, the logistics, the fact that we're still figuring out how this works ourselves?"

"Especially knowing that," she says firmly. "I don't want easy anymore. I want real. I want messy and complicated andgenuine." Her gaze moves between us, steady and sure. "I want you. All of you."

The last thread of my control snaps at her words, at the absolute certainty in her voice. I'm out of my chair and kneeling beside the couch before I fully realize I'm moving, my hands framing her face the way Kael's did earlier.

"Are you absolutely certain?" I ask one more time, because I have to, because once we cross this line there's no going back.

Her answer is to lean forward and kiss me, soft and sweet and tasting of coffee and possibilities. When we break apart, her eyes are bright with tears I don't think she realizes she's shedding.

"Take me upstairs," she whispers, and there's no hesitation in any of us.

The next few hours blur together in a haze of sensation and emotion more intense than anything I've ever experienced. Eliana's heat is just beginning, making her skin hypersensitive and her scent intoxicating, but she's still herself—still the woman who argues politics over breakfast and steals the covers and makes terrible puns that somehow become endearing through sheer repetition.

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