Page 98 of Knot Their Safe Haven
She noticed my hesitation and her expression softened, just a shade. “You good?”
I nodded, determined not to ruin the moment with overthinking. “More than good. Maybe... nervous?”
Alexis’s eyes lit with a predatory playfulness. “Oh, darling. That’s when you know you’re living.” She slung an arm over my shoulder, her body heat and her scent—something clean, sharp, and faintly metallic—enveloping me instantly. “Let’s go fuck up some expectations.”
She steered me outside with a confidence that brooked no resistance, and I let myself be led, almost giddy beneath the bravado. The mountain air was cold enough to sting my cheeks, but the anticipation in my blood was hotter than the surface of the sun.
The world smelled like pine, ozone, and possibility.
I whispered, “Ready?” but it was less a question than an invocation, a way to summon the courage to leap before I looked."No idea what I'm ready for."
"Perfect answer." She opens the door to afternoon sunshine and mountain air that tastes like freedom. "Let's go make you feel something other than responsible."
I follow her out, leather creaking with movement, anticipation electric in my veins.
I’m confident that this activity would be nothing close to boring.
For the first time in years, I get to be irresponsible.Impractical. Absolutely fucking useless except for whatever brings joy.
The thought makes me laugh as we head toward the vehicle she's chosen for this adventure, and Alexis doesn’t hesitate to offer her hand, making me reach out to hold hers as we practically skip. It’s so girlie which has me laughing harder, and Alexis seems to join in because she’s probably haven’t allowed herself to skip.
Until me.
It’s just ignites a sense of freedom. To be claimed to a pack that feels so damn right. I haven’t even gotten to know all ofthem to the agree I hope to, but to be given the permission to discover who I am in this next chapter of my life brews pure happiness in the depths of my heart.
A taste of freedom.
SPEED AND SURRENDER
~ALEXIS~
The engine screams at eight thousand RPMs as I yank the wheel hard left, sending the McLaren 720S into a controlled slide that has Velvet shrieking in the passenger seat. Her hands white-knuckle the door handle and center console while G-forces press us sideways into custom racing seats that cost more than most people's annual salaries.
"ALEXIS!"
Her voice cracks on my name, but underneath the terror, I catch something else—exhilaration. The same rush I chase every time I push machines past their intended limits, every time I dance along the knife's edge between control and chaos.
I correct the slide with practiced ease, tires smoking as we rocket down the straightaway at speeds that would terrify insurance companies. The track stretches before us—a private circuit forty minutes from the cottage that the twins rent when they need to blow off steam legally.
"That's going to give your omega a heart attack!" Velvet gasps as we cross the finish line, her chest heaving beneath burgundy silk and leather.
"Probably." I can't suppress the giggle as I bring us to a slightly less dramatic stop in the pit area. "But you did say you wanted something exhilarating."
She groans, hand pressed to her chest where her heart is undoubtedly attempting escape. "Clearly you're one of those psychopaths who gets high on roller coasters that drop from the stratosphere."
"Guilty. I'm a complete sucker for speed and deadly chaos." I cut the engine, sudden silence ringing in our ears. "The closer to death, the more alive I feel. It's probably a psychological issue I should address."
"You're insane." But she's smiling as she says it, silver hair wild from the wind through the barely-cracked windows. "In a good way. A terrifying, probably-need-therapy, definitely-going-to-kill-me way."
"Want to take a break? Or try something else?"
She considers, those dark eyes studying the track through the windshield. "I wouldn't mind trying, but I've never driven a sports car before."
"You drive though?"
"Oh, that's—" She pauses, and I watch calculation flicker across her features. "You checked, didn't you? Whether I have a license, vehicle registrations, that kind of thing?"
"Standard background investigation when Alessandro mentioned your name three years ago." No point lying about it. "But you're right—no vehicle registered to you. Your driver's license is current but shows minimal usage. I assumed you didn't drive."
