Page 28 of Knotting on Heaven's Door

I could.

Easily.

I was young, successful, independent—an omega with a strong scent, sharp instincts, and no shortage of interest. The bond could happen again. The universe wasn’t cruel enough to allow only one thread to ever tie me to another soul.

No, the problem wasn’tfindingsomeone.

It waslosingthem.

The kind of loss that left you shattered and empty, so gutted you forgot what breathing felt like. The kind that made you question whether your own bones could still hold you upright.

Losing Adam hadn’t just hurt—it had broken something fundamental inside me. And even though I’d stitched myself back together, piece by jagged piece, there were still cracks in the foundation. Quiet fears that hummed beneath the surface. Dread that curled around my ribcage like smoke.

That fear… that was what made me flinch at the idea of staying too long beside anyone warm. That was why I kept things fleeting. Clean. Controlled. Three rounds, and never more. I never lingered long enough to let someone learn the rhythm of my heartbeat.

That night in Sebastian’s hotel room, it wasn’t just lust that had made me lose my head. It was him. The heat in his voice. The intensity in his touch. The way he looked at me like I was a puzzle he’d already started solving.

It was the way he felt like danger.

Not because he was cruel, or careless—but because he was the kind of man someone could fall for.

And I didn’t fall.

Not anymore.

Not since Adam.

So I panicked. I ran. I slapped him, walked out, shoved the whole thing into a mental vault labeledstupid decisions.

But now?

Now I had to see him every damn day.

Hear his voice in the kitchen, see his broad shoulders in my uniform, smell that clean, expensive cologne he probably wore without thinking. And worse—watch him settle in. Watch him do the work.

He hadn’t quit.

Not yet.

And gods help me, I found myself praying—really praying—that it would all be too much. That the pressure would crack him. That he’d get bored, frustrated, lazy, anything that would send him packing.

Because if he stayed…

If he stayed long enough to keep looking at me like that—

I wasn’t sure my walls would hold.

And yet… I felt bad.

Not a lot. But enough for it to sit heavy on my chest every time I remembered the way I slapped him, the way I let panic speak for me instead of reason.

Sebastian hadn’t known.

I hadn’t known.

We’d stumbled blindly into something neither of us meant, and now we were stuck with the aftermath, navigating it like strangers pretending we’d never tasted each other’s skin.

And the worst part?

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