Page 67 of Knotting the Cowboys

They'd all been cut from the same cloth, I realize now.

Same build—tall, broad, conventionally handsome in that aggressive Alpha way.

Same backgrounds—ranching families with more pride than business sense.

Same approach to affection—calculated touches designed to spark my Omega instincts without ever truly satisfying them. They'd been interchangeable parts in the machine of pack hierarchy, each filling their role without deviation.

Here at Cactus Rose, the differences between the men are stark as winter and summer.

Cole with his controlled intensity and careful hands.

River's gentle strength and connection to growing things.

Austin's sunshine personality hiding depths of care.

Mavi's sharp edges protecting a loyalty that runs bone-deep.

Each utterly unique, utterly themselves, utterly unlike the cookie-cutter Alphas who'd nearly destroyed me.

My men.

The thought slips through before I can stop it, and I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper.They're not mine.I'm the boss here, the owner, the obligation they're stuck with. The kiss doesn't change that. Can't change that. I've been someone's property before, and I won't—can't—do that again.

But my traitorous mind supplies the memory of Cole's hand cupping my jaw, the reverent way he'd touched me like I was something precious.

The way he'd asked permission, waited for my answer, put the power in my hands even as his Alpha instincts must have been screaming to take control.

"Tell me to stop,"he'd said, and meaning it.

Meaning it in a way Blake never had, never could have.

Because Blake's pack had seen my submission as their right, my resistance as a challenge to be overcome.

But Cole?

Cole had held himself back until I pulled him closer, until I chose what happened next.

Control I’ve dared to earn for…craved…would beg for in a pack.

My omega instincts, so long suppressed they'd nearly atrophied,had surged to life in that truck. Not the trained responses Blake's pack had conditioned into me—perform submission, accept domination, exist for their pleasure.

But something wilder, truer.

The urge to claim as much as be claimed.

To take what I wanted instead of waiting to be given scraps of affection.

I'd kissed Cole like I was starving because I was. Starved for touch that didn't come with strings, for desire that didn't feel like debt, for an Alpha who saw me as more than a useful acquisition. And he'd given me that, given me everything in those stolen moments before reality intruded.

My body shivers at the memory, heat pooling low in my belly as I remember the solid weight of him, the barely leashed control in how he'd held me.What would have happened if Mavi hadn't been watching?If we'd had true privacy? The possibilities make my breath catch, make my thighs clench together against the sudden ache between them.

I can't think like this, right? Not want something so fragile and risky like this?

Not when I'm still learning how to exist without a pack's control. When these men deserve better than an Omega too damaged to trust properly. Certainly not when Luna needs stability more than I need to chase feelings I don't understand.

But even as I think it, I know I'm lying to myself.

Because last night, pressed against Cole in that truck, I'd felt more like myself than I had in years.

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