Page 93 of Knot My Band: Part One
My fever breaks, and I wake up. I’m immediately aware of a dull ache throbbing through my body, a tender reminder of the heat that had raged through me only hours before. Every muscle feels like it’s been stretched to its limit, and there’s a vulnerability clinging to me.
My breath hitches in a chest that seems too tight, emotions crashing against my ribcage.
Dax’s arm, heavy and warm, is slung over my waist. The scent of cinnamon and icing from him envelops me.
He was in a rut for hours, and we fucked in every way imaginable, but now that he’s out of it, I don’t know how he’s going to react.
To my other side, Chase, all long limbs and sandy hair tickling my cheek, shifts closer in his slumber. His knee nudges against my thigh. There’s a sweetness in the way he unconsciously seeks proximity.
“Morning, little rose,” Chase murmurs without opening his eyes.
Dax wakes, and I feel him stiffen. As he peels away, I instantly miss his weight.
He rubs his eyes, then glances at the clock on the nightstand, and I can tell the moment reality clicks back into place for him.
“Morning already came and went,” Dax murmurs, more to himself than to me. His voice is low, rough with sleep, but there’s an undercurrent of something else. “We need to book our flight out today. The fans won’t wait for us.”
That single sentence cuts through the languid haze surrounding me. The tour. Right.
He stands up and stretches, muscles flexing in a way that almost distracts me from the tightness in my chest. “I’ll handle the arrangements.”
His practicality is a slap to the face, cold water dousing the embers of last night’s intimacy. I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest as if it could shield me from the return to normalcy. “Sure, Dax. Whatever you think is best.” My words are bright and brittle, hiding the hurt blossoming behind my ribs.
He doesn’t notice—or if he does, he chooses not to acknowledge it.
He’s gone then, footsteps a fading echo, leaving me to piece myself back together and prepare for the next show, not just on stage, but also the one where I pretend that every part of me isn’t yearning for him.
The chill of Dax’s departure still clings to my skin when I feel a shift beside me. Chase’s presence, warm and reassuring, curls around the hollow spaces Dax’s practicality carved out moments ago.
“Hey,” Chase murmurs, his voice like a melody that soothesthe raw edges of my heart. His arm finds its way around me, pulling me closer until I’m nestled against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting drum in this quiet aftermath.
It almost feels like he’s sending me soothing energy.
That’s when I feel it. The cord in my soul leads me right to Chase.
We are bonded.
Panic starts to overwhelm me as I realize I bit Chase during my heat, and he bit me right back. We are forever linked together. I’m his omega and part of their pack.
Did our instincts take over? Does he hate me?
“Oli, look at me.” I tilt my chin up, meeting those smoldering green eyes that seem to peer into the depths of my soul. “I care about you. So damn much,” he confesses, his thumb brushing away a strand of my hair that has fallen across my face. “After last night… I want this bond, Oli. With you. More than anything.”
There’s a hitch in my breath as I absorb his apology, so sweet and full of regret. “I was in heat,” I say, not as an accusation but as an admission of the turmoil swirling inside me.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I never should have bitten you back without your permission. You should always have a say in what happens to you and your body. I messed up, and I wouldn’t blame you if you fucking hated me forever, but selfishly, I hope you can forgive me because…,” His eyes are earnest, pleading. “Now that it’s here, this connection between us, I can’t pretend it doesn’t feel right.”
I’m torn, caught in a whirlwind of emotions that tug me in opposite directions.
“Chase, I—” The words tangle on my tongue, uncertaintyleaving a bitter taste. My heart wants to leap, to embrace the bond and the promise it holds. Yet my mind hesitates.
“Guys, we need to get moving.” Dax’s voice slices through the room.
I cringe, unprepared for reality’s harsh intrusion, as he stands at the edge of the bed, already dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt.
“Flight’s booked for one. We can’t afford to be late.” His hazel eyes hold a flicker of something—concern or impatience, I can’t tell—but it’s gone the next second.
Chase’s hold on me tightens, protective instincts surging like a crescendo. “She’s just come down from her heat, Dax. It’s not safe to rush her.”
