Page 85 of Knot in Bloom
Without waiting for my response, she grabs my hand and presses it to the curve of her stomach. For a moment, nothing. Then—movement. Strong, unmistakable. The baby kicking against my palm like it’s saying hello.
The world tilts sideways.
Life. Movement. A tiny person growing safe and loved and protected. For one devastating moment, I can picture it perfectly—me with that same belly, surrounded by my pack, creating life with the men I love.
The longing slams into me like a freight train. So intense I actually stumble backward, gasping.
“Amazing, right?” Lila beams, oblivious to my internal meltdown. “This little one’s destined for soccer.”
But I can barely hear her over the roaring in my ears. My body responds to the baby contact with a surge of need so overwhelming it makes my vision blur. Every suppressed instinct explodes at once—the desperate craving for claiming, for pack, for babies of my own.
Across the room, I catch all three alphas freezing mid-task, heads turning toward me with laser focus. They can smellthe change in my scent, the way my biology just shifted into overdrive.
“I need to...” I back toward the stairs, voice strangled. “Check something upstairs. Lila, can you make sure the vendor centerpieces get distributed? I’ll be right back.”
I flee before anyone can respond.
In my apartment, I lean against the door and try to breathe. My skin feels electrified, too sensitive for clothes, for air, for anything. The need building in my core has moved beyond uncomfortable to actually painful.
This is ridiculous. I’m a grown woman with a successful business, falling apart because I touched a pregnant belly and got overwhelmed.
But fighting feels impossible now. My body knows what it wants—pack, claiming, the safety to build the family I’ve been pretending not to crave. The suppressants that used to manage these feelings are completely useless against this intensity.
I strip quickly, skin too hypersensitive for fabric. Even the air feels like caresses. When I slide my hand between my legs, I’m already slick and aching, body practically begging for alpha attention.
I try to be quiet, try to handle this fast so I can get back downstairs and pretend normalcy. But the relief is so intense after hours of fighting arousal that soft moans escape despite my best efforts.
Part of me knows they can hear. In this old building, with their enhanced senses, there’s no hiding what I’m doing. The thought should embarrass me, but instead it makes everything more desperate. The knowledge that they’re downstairs, that they can smell my need, that they know I’m up here taking care of myself because I can’t handle being around them without falling apart.
When release finally hits, I cry out softly, the pleasure so sharp it’s almost painful. For a few blessed moments, I can think clearly again.
But getting dressed and preparing to go back down, I know this was just a bandage. Festival setup will continue through the afternoon. My suppressants are useless, my body’s betraying me at every turn, and tomorrow’s going to shatter me completely.
When I walk back into the shop, trying to act normal, all three alphas go completely still. They breathe deep, and I watch understanding dawn in their eyes—satisfaction mixed with lingering arousal, the unmistakable evidence of what just happened upstairs.
But instead of awkwardness, they somehow make everything easier. Reid handles the remaining volunteer questions, keeping people away from me. Caleb manages logistics so I only focus on flower placement. Levi stays close, a steady presence that grounds me when arousal threatens to spike again.
None mention what happened. None make me feel exposed or embarrassed. They just... take care of me. Like they’ve been waiting for permission to really help, and my vulnerability finally gave them that opening.
The rest of the morning flows smoothly despite my internal chaos. By noon, volunteers have transformed our little town into something magical. The main street garlands catch autumn light perfectly. Vendor booths sport elegant centerpieces that add sophistication without overwhelming rustic charm. The welcome arch looks like something from a high-end wedding magazine.
“Beautiful work,” Tessa beams during her inspection rounds. “The tourism board is going to be so impressed tomorrow.”
“Everything’s falling into place,” Reid agrees, but his attention is on me, not the decorations.
As afternoon settles over our decorated town, I stand in my shop surrounded by flowers and alpha scents, and accept the truth I’ve been fighting.
Tomorrow will break me completely. My suppressants are done, my heat is coming whether I want it or not, and these three incredible men have positioned themselves to catch me when I fall.
For the first time, that doesn’t terrify me.
It feels like coming home.
Chapter 24
Caleb
Saturday morning, five AM. Festival day.
