Page 11 of Ruin Me Knot
Ronan glances back, voice deep and rough. "Breathe. Just breathe our scents. We’re your mates. Your scent-matches. The last thing we’d do is hurt you."
Her body quakes as her gaze skitters between Gabe and me. A wounded sound escapes her, part whine, all terror. Her terror is a living thing writhing inside her. She jerks in Gabriel’s lap, fingers clawing at his face and her nails rake his cheek. Blood beads as she gasps, eyes round with horror at what she’s done. She twists sideways, half collapsing off Gabriel and into my lap as Gabriel tries not to hurt her while keeping her safe.
My fingers close around her barely-there biceps, "Leah, please, you’re going to hurt yourself…"
Panic takes over. She bangs her knee into the console, and she’s in danger of wedging her body between the seats. She’s coming apart. If I let go, she’ll hurt herself even worse.
I do the only thing left and let my purr vibrate loose from my chest, deep and low as thunder. I pour everything I have into that sound.
She stills, breath catching. She stops thrashing, limbs going weak, eyes drooping.
"Keep that up, brother," Gabriel whispers as we gently maneuver her into my lap.
She whimpers, the sound spearing my heart, but my purr works. I struggle to believe I have my Omega in my lap, that I’m purring for her even if I hate the reason. Her heart pounds so strongly I feel it in my chest. My fingers slide up her frail body to cup her nape. She jerks weakly against me, still fighting, and I instantly fall in love with her spirit.
"Give her your scent, brother," Ronan says.
I press her nose to the gland in my neck, my scent speaking louder than my words ever could. She draws in a deep breath and her body becomes limp against me.
Ronan’s voice is barely a whisper from the front seat. "Keep that up, Jax. We’re close to base. Just need her calm enough to get inside."
I nod, not trusting my voice but relieved. So relieved, because she’s woken at the very least. I cradle her head, thumb slowly stroking her hair. My purr keeps rolling, determined to comfort her for a little longer.
We pull into the private garage beneath our Harrow Street apartment. I never appreciated our careful planning more. Ronan plugs in the code to raise the gate and glides us through the rows of cars to our secure parking space. The engine cuts.
None of us speak. Ronan slides his hands over his face before he turns to look at Leah from the driver’s seat. “Come one. Let’s get her inside.”
I slide out of the back seat, moving slow so I don’t jar her. She doesn’t even flinch, her eyes half-open but blank, whole body limp and heavy. Gabe says my name, but I barely hear him. All I can do is hold her tighter, whispering useless words, praying she’ll blink or move or so anything to prove she’s still here. I keep purring as I exit the vehicle, Gabriel moving first to cover us, Ronan scouting the shadows. We take nothing for granted.
The elevator is just feet away, another code unlocking it. The doors slide open. Ronan guides us in, his body a wall on one side, Gabriel ready to fight on the other as we enter the small space.
Leah stays soft in my arms, not entirely peaceful but quiet, her breath catching at my throat as the elevator takes us to the top floor.
When the doors slide open, we sweep through the hall, one last check for safety, then open the door at the end to our apartment with another secure code. The silence inside doesn’t claw at us, but wraps tight, and as Ronan locks the door behind us and Gabriel strides to our medical supplies, I carry her straight to the nesting room. I press my lips to Leah’s sweat-damp hair as I settle her in the middle of the mattress and pray to whatever God is listening.
Please let us be enough.
Chapter Six
Leah
Ishudder awake, drifting in a haze of warmth and the most intoxicating scents I’ve ever breathed. They swirl around me, thick and tangling with the unrestrained ache beneath my skin.
The first is deep, enveloping. Fresh pine and damp earth, threaded with fire. The weighted-blanket scent immediately calms my nerves, whispering that nothing can touch me. Nothing can hurt me.
Then another. Brighter. Citrus and clove cut through the fog in my head like sun slicing a storm. It’s untamed laughter spilled across sunlight, theflavor of something meant to lift me up and pull me back to the surface no matter how far under I’ve gone.
Then the last rolls in. Vanilla and wild grass, sweet and familiar, cool against my skin. It’s warmth in the quietest hours, everything safe, everything unwinding. That gentle presence seeps into me, soothing the panic that lives under my ribs. I ache to fold into it.
Fear flares in my chest as I surface but the pull slices through it. My Omega arches into the blend, greedy for comfort, but something in me—the real me—screams to stay alert.
I try to open my eyes, but my eyelids are too heavy. Everything is too heavy. Need rolls under my skin so thick I could drown in it. My bones are pulverized, and a deep ache is buried deep within my abdomen. I’m tired. Worn down weary. Skin sticky with sweat. I recognize the signs of my heat, but this time it’s different.
I’m not alone.
I blink, and shapes form from the haze.
Three Alphas, massive and real, take up the little space around me. They’re slumped in sleep and so close the air stirs with every slow, even breath. They’re the Alphas from the gala who chased after me.
