Page 90 of Knot My Band: Part One
“Instinct took over,” I defend. “She bit me first!”
“That might be your only saving grace, but if she hates us because of this, I will never forgive you,” Aiden says bluntly.
“She won’t hate me. She’ll be able to feel how sorry I am,” I say confidently, even though I feel anything but.
I refuse to believe I finally got everything I never knew I needed just to lose it.
Aiden presses his hand to her forehead, and I know he can feel she’s just as hot as before we started.
“Her mini heat should have broken by now,” Aiden murmurs, his voice low enough not to disturb our slumbering omega nestled like an angel in our midst. He runs a hand through his spiky black hair. “I researched scent match mini heats when it became a possibility.”
“What did you learn?” Jack asks.
“Being with her alphas and knotted by them should break the heat. It’s not meant to last as long as a full heat,” Aiden explains.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t all her alphas, was it?” My words are tinged with concern, my eyes troubled as they flick over to the door—closed, but somehow feeling more like a gaping void without Dax.
There’s an unease that settles in my gut.
“No, it wasn’t,” Jack agrees, shaking his head. “Damn stubborn alpha. He thinks he doesn’t deserve her. Doesn’t get that it’s not up for him to decide.”
“Maybe it will break while she sleeps,” I insist, but my playful facade doesn’t quite reach my eyes. The truth is, I’m worried too.
“Maybe,” Aiden says slowly.
I close my eyes, letting exhaustion pull me under. If her heat isn’t broken, then we need to get our rest now. She’ll need us.
We drift off.
A knock shatters the silence, jerking me out of sleep. My eyelids snap open, and I’m on my feet and standing between Oli and the door before I even register what’s happening.
“Got it,” Jack mutters, already at the door. He’s all loose limbs and bed hair, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes that only comes with being on high alert.
The door swings open, and Dax is standing there, his presence like a storm cloud in a clear sky. The bag in his hand is forgotten as soon as our gazes lock onto his.
“Hey, Dax—” Jack starts, but the words hang, unfinished, in the tension-soaked air.
Dax looks… feral. It’s in the wildness of his hazel eyes, the untamed energy rolling off him in waves. His jawis set hard, muscles ticking as if he’s barely holding himself back from something.
“Dax?” I call out, pushing past Jack to get a better look at him. “You good, man?”
“Food,” Dax grits out, his voice gravelly and strained as he holds out a bag.
His nostrils flare as the scent of the heat suite hits him in full force.
“Shit,” I swear under my breath, taking in the tension coiling through Dax’s frame. It’s like watching a thunderstorm roll in, fast and inevitable. I know that look; every muscle in his body is taut, ready to snap. Rut—it’s got its hooks in him, and from the way he’s eyeing the room, it’s dragging him in deep.
“This isn’t good,” Jack swears.
“Hey,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm, though my heart’s doing a frantic drum solo in my chest. “Dax, you need to go, man.”
But he doesn’t budge, rooted to the spot like he’s grown out of the very carpet beneath his feet. His eyes are locked on Oli, and there’s something feral in that gaze.
“Can’t,” he grinds out, the word more animal than human. “My omega needs me.” He steps forward, and it’s clear he’s beyond reason, lost to the rut that’s been threatening to claim him since he walked through the door.
Oli
PACK ‘EM UP GOSSIP COLUMN
