Page 7 of Knotting else Matters

“Do what?”

“Make a joke out of everything. Treat all of this like it’s some stupid game.”

“Because I’ve seen what happens when people take this stuff too seriously,” I shot back, my voice sharper now. “I grew up in this world, remember? And while you were probably busy being the perfect little Alpha, I was learning how to be the family embarrassment.”

“Maybe if you stopped acting like one—”

“Oh, save it. I didn’t realize my life coach was a part-time bouncer.”

He let out a low growl, and I actually felt a flicker of satisfaction. Even the wolf in me stirred again, an almost petulant huff of agreement. This guy was absolutely insufferable.

“I don’t need a lecture from you,” I snapped, crossing my arms and staring out the window. “And I definitely don’t need a babysitter.”

“You need someone to keep you in line,” he shot back, voice rough and steady.

I couldn’t help myself—I leaned in, just enough that he could feel my breath brushing against his shoulder. “Oh, really? Or maybe you just need someone to teach you how to loosen up. Maybe even crack a smile once in a while. Think you’re up for that?”

His glare could have set the asphalt on fire, but I just grinned, settling back into my seat with a satisfied hum.

“Thought so,” I murmured, barely suppressing the smirk tugging at my lips.

His jaw tightened, knuckles white on the steering wheel. But I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twitch—just for a second.

The SUV rolled to a stop in front of the temple, and my stomach twisted itself into a vicious knot. Memories clawed their way up, uninvited and unwelcome. Ceremonies to the Moon Goddess—elaborate, somber affairs where I’d been forced to sit, hands folded, head bowed, listening to endless hymns about destiny, devotion, and divine blessings. My family had treated it like a sacred duty. I had treated it like a slow, soul-crushing death.

But the temple looked… different now. The old, crumbling stone had been replaced with sleek, modern white walls, tall glass windows that let in the morning light, and a sprawling garden blooming with color. It was almost beautiful. Almost enough to make me forget the tight, suffocating rules that came with it.

Sophie’s voice carried across the courtyard, bright and cheerful. She was a blur of green—her floral dress a swirl of soft emerald and white, her blonde curls bouncing as she gave instructions to some poor guy balanced on a ladder, trying to hang ribbons from the overhead beams.

The car door clicked open, and I stepped out, legs a little unsteady, but I plastered on a smile just as Sophie turned and spotted me.

“Liv!” she squealed, practically skipping over, her arms wrapping around me in a fierce hug.

“Hey, Sophie.” I hugged her back, her warmth a temporary balm against the rising tide of anxiety in my chest.

She pulled back, thrusting a plastic cup of coffee into my hands. “I figured you’d need this.”

“You know me so well.” I took a sip, the bitter, glorious warmth flooding my system like a life-saving IV drip.

“I’ll be right back!” she chirped, turning and waving to the guy on the ladder. “No, no, the ribbons go a little to the left—yes, perfect! Thank you, Adrian, for bringing her on time! Karl would have done it, but he managed to get an appointment to clean his teeth, last minute.”

She disappeared around the corner, and the world suddenly stopped. The air turned heavy. The coffee seemed to freeze in my hand.

Adrian.

Adrian, the new pack leader. The Alpha. The guy I had spent the last fifteen minutes teasing, mocking, and treating like my own personal verbal punching bag.

My gaze snapped over to him, and he was already watching me. His dark eyes were unreadable, a mask of calm that made my skin prickle.

“Oh.” The sound slipped out before I could stop it, a pathetic little syllable that barely scratched the surface of the panic thundering in my chest.

“I see you’re putting the coffee to good use,” he said dryly.

“Absolutely. Nothing like a little caffeine to chase away the crushing weight of regret.”

An ironic smile twisted my lips, but inside, I was collapsing. He was the Alpha. The one I’d joked about, insulted, and calledWolfzilla.

I could feel the weight of a hundred invisible eyes. Wolves watching. Pack members who had probably seen me stumble out of the hotel with their oh-so-respected leader, my hand clutching his arm for dear life while I bantered with him like he was a glorified chauffeur.

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