Page 134 of Knotting the Cowboys

"Nope." He starts walking toward where I assume he parked, carrying me like I weigh nothing. "You're hungry. I'm fixing that. Cole!" He calls over his shoulder. "Hurry the fuck up or I'm having her in the car."

The crude implication makes me bury my burning face in his neck, but I can hear snickers from the growing crowd of onlookers.

This is worse than Blake's insults somehow—not cruel but overwhelming, too much attention for entirely different reasons.

Cole's voice carries clearly as we move away.

"Harrison. Last warning. Stay away from our property, our town, and our Omega. Next time I won't be so polite about it."

I peek over Mavi's shoulder in time to see Blake standing alone on the sidewalk, looking smaller somehow. Diminished. The expensive suit can't hide what he really is—a pathetic man who needs to tear others down to feel big.The townspeople are already turning away, dismissing him as unimportant, and that casual rejection probably stings worse than any threat.

"Stop looking at him," Mavi orders softly. "He doesn't deserve your attention."

He's right.

I turn my face back into his neck, breathing in his scent—smoke and cinnamon and something uniquely Mavi that makes me feel safe despite the chaos of the last ten minutes.

His truck is parked crooked outside the hardware store, like he abandoned it in a hurry when he spotted us.

"I can walk," I protest as he fumbles for his keys one-handed.

"I know." He manages to get the passenger door open without putting me down, then carefully sets me on the seat. His hands linger on my waist, thumbs stroking over my ribs. "Doesn't mean you have to."

Cole appears as Mavi's rounding the truck, tossing him a set of keys I recognize as belonging to the ranch truck. "I'll drive the feed back. You take care of her."

They share one of those silent communication moments all the pack seems capable of, entire conversations in a single look.

Then Cole's heading back to the feed store and Mavi's sliding behind the wheel, the engine already rumbling to life.

We drive in silence for several blocks. I can feel Mavi's glances, quick checks to gauge my emotional state, but I keep my eyes on the passing buildings. The adrenaline's wearing off, leaving behind a complicated mix of emotions I can't sort through.

"You okay?" he finally asks as we hit the edge of town.

"I don't know." It's honest at least. "That was... a lot."

"Blake's an asshole."

"Not just Blake." I turn to look at him, taking in his profile—the sharp jaw, the intense focus he brings to everything, even driving. "The whole thing. Cole saying those things about... about us. You kissing me like that in front of everyone. Carrying me like some—I don't know, like property or something."

His hands tighten on the wheel. "You're not property."

"I know. But it felt like..." I struggle for words. "Like you were marking territory. Both of you. Using me to make a point to Blake."

Mavi's quiet for long enough that I think he won't answer.

Then he signals and pulls off onto a scenic overlook, the town spread below us like a child's toy set. He puts the truck in park but doesn't turn off the engine, just sits there staring at the view.

"You're right," he says finally. "Part of it was about Blake. Showing him he has no power here, no claim on you. That he lost something precious through his own cruelty." He turns to face me fully. "But mostly? Mostly, I kissed you because I've wanted to since the moment you walked into our kitchen. Because you looked like you needed someone to stand between you and him. Because the thought of him talking to you, breathing the same air as you, made me want to commit violence."

The raw honesty in his voice makes my chest tight.

"Mavi..."

"I shouldn't have done it like that. In public, without asking, using you to prove a point." His green eyes are serious now, all playfulness gone. "I'm sorry if I made you feel like property. You're not. You're—" He stops, jaw working. "You're ours to protect, not own. There's a difference."

"Is there?" The question comes out smaller than intended.

"Yes." He reaches over, fingers gentle as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Property doesn't get choices. You do. Always. Even if every instinct in my body screams to lock you away where men like Blake can never hurt you again, you get to choose."

---