Page 3 of Down Knot Out
I perch on the arm of the couch. “Your head still hurting?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “It’s fine.”
But it isn’t fine. He holds himself too carefully, and his warm complexion holds a slight pallor. Dominic hates appearing weak. The fact that he’s still struggling with the effects of his concussion two weeks later frustrates him.
“Hmm,” I respond, unconvinced. The citrus-and-musk pheromones emanating from him hold a sharp edge to them, but I don’t push it. Instead, Igesture toward his empty coffee mug. “You need a refill?”
He looks at it in surprise before turning back to me. For a moment, I think pride will make him insist on fetching it himself despite the pain. But then his expression softens.
“Yeah.” He holds the mug out to me. “Thanks.”
Our fingers brush as I take it, and a spark shoots up my arm—not from static in the dry air, but a connection that stirs my Omega instincts.
His pupils dilate in response.
“Black, right?” I ask, since it’s his second cup, and he only adds creamer to the first one of the day.
“Right.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, transforming his face, softening the hard edges and reminding me of the boy I grew up with.
The one I was meant to bond with.
Confirmation: Sinclair pack descendant.
The words flash across my mind again. If my mother hadn’t falsified my DNA when she registered me, where would Dominic and I be right now? Married? Would we have pups? Would Inever have met Grady or written my first breakout series? Would he have ever met Blake, Holden, and Nathaniel?
Would the dream of Misty Pines have died before they ever conceived of it?
Would I give up everything I have now if it meant sparing my younger self from all that pain?
Chapter Two
Chloe
“Chloe?” Dominic’s fingers graze the back of my hand, sending sparks skittering up my arm. “Are you okay?”
“Great!” I chirp and half-tumble off the arm of the couch in my rush to put distance between us. When hurt flashes across his face, I hold up the mug as an excuse. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hey, what about me?” Grady whines when I pass. “If you’re already going that way…”
I huff but snatch up his mug, too. Grady still needs a cane to balance, so walking around with hot beverages is dangerous.
I push through the swinging door into the kitchen and find Holden in his element, light golden-brown curls falling across his forehead ashe flips pancakes with practiced ease. The room smells like heaven, with butter browning in pans, maple syrup warming in a small pot, fresh coffee, and underneath it all, the sweet vanilla cake scent belonging to Holden himself.
His head lifts as I enter, hazel eyes tracking my movement with a watchfulness that’s become familiar these past two weeks. It’s the look of someone afraid I might disappear if he blinks too long.
“Morning,” I say, moving toward the coffee pot.
Holden’s hands remain steady, pouring batter into perfect circles, but his attention follows me. A stack of pancakes already towers on a plate beside him, golden-brown and fluffy. Next to them sits a bowl of fresh strawberries, bananas, and blueberries.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asks, voice casual.
I reach for the coffee pot, and Holden’s attention zeroes in on my movement. He’s been like this since my final encounter with Louie, always keeping track of where I am and what I’m doing. At night, he’s the last Alpha to say goodnight and the first to check on me in the morning.
“Better,” I tell him, which isn’t a total lie.
I only woke up once last night with my heart pounding and the sensation of phantom handsgrabbing my ankles. But it was an improvement over the three or four times it had been happening. I hadn’t slept with any of the Alphas since that night for fear of waking them up with my nightmares.
Holden’s shoulders relax, and the freckles scattered across his cheeks stand out as his focus returns to his pancakes. He’s the shortest of my Alphas, but still taller than me. Where Blake is built like a mountain and Dominic like a swimmer, Holden has a solid, sturdy quality to him.
