Page 99 of Knot So Sweet
Upstairs, Violet sleeps. Or she was an hour ago when I checked. Xaden's with her. Locked by his knot. Both unconscious after what happened. Her body finally resting between heat waves.
My chest tightens thinking about it. The sounds she made. How she smelled. Xaden's expression when the bond snapped into place.
One down. Two to go.
I punch the dough harder than necessary. Flour poofs up in a white cloud. Coating my already-dusty hands. The physical work helps. Kneading means I can think about gluten development instead of the omega upstairs who now carries pack scent. Xaden and vanilla and home.
The bite mark on her throat will be permanent. Left side. Right where her pulse beats strongest. Everyone will know she's claimed. Protected.
Mine too. Eventually. If she wants me after.
The thought makes my hands pause in the dough.
What if she doesn't? What if Xaden's enough? He's got that controlled intensity. That tactical mind that makes people trust him. Military background. Knows how to handle complicated situations without fumbling.
What do I have? Flour under my fingernails. A failed engagement.
Rebecca's voice echoes. "You really thought I'd stay here forever? Playing house with a baker?"
I shake it off. Focus on the dough. The dough doesn't lie. Doesn't leave. Give it time and care and it becomes something good.
Unlike fiancées who disappear three hours before their wedding.
The cinnamon rolls proof when I hear movement upstairs. Soft sounds. A door opening. Water running in pipes.
Liam, probably. Checking on Violet while Xaden's knotted.
I glance at the tray I've been preparing. Two thermoses of coffee. Black for Xaden. French toast keeping warm in the oven. Scrambled eggs with cheese. Bacon crispy like Violet mentioned liking when she thought I wasn't paying attention. Orange juice. Water. Painkillers because heat cycles brutalize the body.
Blueberry muffins because she looked at them yesterday with want in her eyes but didn't buy any. Said she was saving money.
Not anymore. Everything I make becomes hers now. If she wants it.
The thought feels possessive. Premature. She hasn't chosen me yet.
Might not choose me at all.
I load the tray. Balance carefully. The stairs creak under my weight. Same spots they always do. Third step. Seventh. The one at the top that groans like it's personally offended.
Her door sits cracked open. I knock anyway. Two sharp raps. Anything gentler feels wrong.
"Come in." Liam's voice. Rough from sleep or stress or both.
I push inside.
The apartment smells like pack and sex and omega in heat. Thick enough to choke on. My alpha sits up immediately. Flooding my system with want so sharp it borders on pain.
Control. Need control.
Violet's nest occupies the couch. Exactly where she built it last night. Blankets and pillows arranged with desperate precision. Our shirts woven throughout. Xaden stretches out in the middle. Shirtless. Locked inside her based on how he's positioned.
Violet curls against his chest. Wearing his t-shirt now. Black fabric drowning her curves. Hair tangled wildly. Dark strands everywhere. The bite mark on her throat shows vivid red. Already bruising around the edges.
Claimed. Bonded. His.
Something in my chest cracks.
"Brought food." Voice comes out rougher than intended. "Water. Coffee if anyone wants it."
