Page 48 of Knot Broken

I’m still on the outdoor sofa, head tilted back, eyes half-closed, just listening. To the rustle of trees. To the soft sound of bristles against canvas. To her breathing. Every detail grounds me more than I think she realizes.

After a few minutes, I hear her set the brush down gently in a jar of murky water. Then footsteps—bare and careful—cross the stone path. She doesn’t say anything right away; she just eases down into the space beside me, legs tucked under her, one hand finding mine where it rests on my knee.

I turn toward her, and there she is—blue eyes steady, cheeks kissed with the faintest blush of sun, lips parted like she’s working up to something.

And then, in the softest voice I’ve ever heard from her, she says, “I love you.”

I blink, stunned for a heartbeat. And she smiles—this small, radiant thing that shatters me all over again.

“I do,” she repeats, stronger this time. “I love you, Dare. You’re… everything I didn’t even know I needed. Strong without being loud. Protective without ever making me feel caged. You always make space for me to just be.”

My throat tightens. I don’t dare interrupt her.

Chapter Twelve

Dare

June 8th

1:05 P.M

“You’re an incredible Alpha,” she continues, fingers tightening slightly around mine. “Not because you’re dominant or dangerous or can tear through an enemy like paper—though, yeah, that’s super hot—but because you care so quietly. So deeply. You’re the one I feel safest with when I’m not sure what I feel at all.”

She shifts closer, pressing her forehead against my chest. “I couldn’t have dreamed a better pack, and you’re a big part of why it feels like home. You don’t have to be anything more or less than exactly who you are, Dare. You’re enough. You always have been.”

I don’t even realize I’ve moved until my arms are around her, pulling her into my lap, burying my face in her curls to hide the way my voice breaks when I whisper, “You wreck me, Vi. In the best way.”

She leans back just enough to look up at me, tears in her eyes now, but smiling. “Good.”

And just like that, with her wrapped around me and the sun sinking low behind us, I know—this is the moment I’ll remember when everything else goes quiet. This is the one that matters.

Because she sees me.

And still, she stayed.

She’s still in my lap, warm and real and wrapped in sunlight and trust, and I don’t want to let her go.

Violet’s fingers trail down my jaw, tracing the edge of my jaw like she’s memorizing me with touch. “You’re blushing,” she murmurs, clearly amused.

“Yeah, well,” I say, voice low as I rest my forehead against hers, “you just hit me with a full-blown confession like I’m not madly in love with you already.”

She grins, eyes sparkling, and leans in to kiss me. It starts slow—just the gentle press of lips, her hands cradling my face like I’m something fragile. Like I’m something precious. I kiss her back with the same reverence, my fingers running up the curve of her spine to hold her steady against me.

Her body shifts, instinctive and fluid, until she’s straddling my lap, arms wrapped around my neck. The kiss deepens—still unhurried, but no less consuming. Her scent floods my senses—sweet lemon frosting, sunshine, and a hint of paint—and it settles something deep in my chest I didn’t realize was still restless.

My hands move down, gripping the hem of her oversized tee. “Can I?” I murmur against her lips.

Violet nods, her breath catching, pupils blown wide. “Yeah, Alpha.”

I lift her shirt slowly, kissing every inch of skin as I reveal it—her ribs, her stomach, the swell of her hips. She shivers under my touch, but doesn’t hesitate. Her hands are already working on my shirt, dragging it over my head, her palms smoothing over my chest like she’s claiming it.

This isn’t rushed. It’s not about the hunger—though it’s there, coiled low and heavy—it’s about showing up. Letting her feel, through every touch, kiss, and whispered word, how deeply I see her. How much I want her.

We shift together, finding rhythm in the quiet. Her thighs cradle my hips, and I hold her like she might disappear if I don’t. But she doesn’t. She’s here. Moaning softly into my mouth, tugging my hair, guiding my hands where she wants them.

Our breaths grow heavier, movements bolder. But through it all, she’s watching me, and I’m watching her—like we’re trying to memorize this, because somehow, it still feels like a dream neither of us can believe is real.

And when she gasps my name, her forehead pressed to mine, her hands clutching my shoulders like I’m the only solid thing in the world—that’s when I know.

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