Page 62 of Knot My Band: Part Two
The moment I cross the threshold of the pack house, a shiver of anticipation dances up my spine.
I belong here. It’s covered in my alpha’s scents, even if they’re stale and faint.
My boots thud softly on the wooden floor, the sound cozy and intimate in the sprawling space. The room is bathed in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun filtering through the windows, casting everything in a soft, inviting light.
Dax rushes off with some of the luggage, leaving me behind with his packmates who all look after him with knowing smirks.
“Come here, little rose, I want to snuggle you on our couch and fill this place with your scent.” I let Chase pick me up and bring me to the soft couch. We sink into its grey fabric as he runs his nose along his bite mark on my neck. Sparks shoot from the spot through my entire body until converging on my clit.
“Don’t hog her,” Aiden complains, joining us on the couch and taking my right hand. “You just got to have her in the car.”
I lean in and rub my nose against his, breathing in his chocolate chip cookie scent and letting it surround me.
There’s something so relaxing and mundane about being here in their pack house. The tour bus is fun, but I can picture my life with them here.
Jack sits on my other side, rubbing his hands along my arm before gripping the back of my head and turning me to kiss him. His grip tightens when he smells my perfume, but Dax comes back into the room and stands right in front of us without sitting down.
“Are you done with whatever you ran off to do?” I ask, looking up at him with Jack’s hand still in my hair.
“Yes. Come with me,” he demands.
Dax grabs my hand and pulls me along until we reach a random door. He pushes it open, and it’s obviously the nest. The walls are soft and padded, blocking light and noise with a dark blue fabric. The entire floor is made of a mattress that already looks like it will feel like a cloud.
Oh, Dax, you’ve outdone yourself.
It is a haven crafted just for me. A masterpiece of fluff and fabric, it calls to me, promising comfort and safety. My heart does this funny little skip-and-jump routine—Dax made this nest. For me!
I step inside. Dax waits right outside the door, and I can sense anticipation and nerves pouring off him.
With a deep breath, I inhale scents of cinnamon, chocolate cookies, caramel, and coffee mixed with my own strawberries. How did he manage that?
I look around and realize, with a start, that this looks familiar. The room is full of items from my nest on the bus. Jack’s stuffed animals line the walls, and everything we bought at the store that day is here, mixed with new items.
“H-how?” I stutter in shock.
Turning around, I see Dax waiting at the door for me to invite him in, even though he’s the one who put all this work in.
“I brought everything from the bus with us. I know omegas don’t want people messing with their nest, but I thought it would be better if it were me than some random crew member. I wanted you to have your own stuff here, but this room is bigger than the bus, so I bought new blankets and pillows. If there’s anything you don’t like, it’s gone, no questions asked. I won’t be offended.”
The new blankets are plush, the kind that begs you to sink your fingers into them. And so I do, letting the softness caress my skin, a sigh escaping my lips. Each pillow and throw is perfectly curated in shades of pink and rose gold that mirror the shade of my hair—my vibrant signature.
I let my hand linger on a particularly fluffy cushion, the fabric cool and smooth beneath my touch. This was more than just picking out pretty things; this was Dax listening, paying attention to the smallest details about me. The realization sends warmth cascading through me.
“Looks like someone knows my taste better than I thought,” I say under my breath, a playful lilt to my voice.
My fingers trace a path over the satin trim of a blanket, following the elegant swirls and patterns. I’m lost in the tactile delight.
A shiver of excitement dances up my spine, and I swivel on my heel, eager to thank the man behind this masterpiece. Dax is rooted to the spot by the doorway, like a statue carved from stone and brooding thoughts. His hazel eyes are fixed on me, flickering with an unreadable blend of hope and hesitation. It’s as though he’s bracing himself for my verdict, ready to retreat at the slightest frown.
I call out, injecting every ounce of sunshine into my voice. “Come in, alpha.”
He doesn’t move at first, and I wonder if he’s second-guessing his handiwork. But that warm smile I shoot him seemsto do the trick; it lights the fuse, and slowly, he inches forward. Each step carries the weight of a thousand unspoken words, his gaze never leaving mine.
I tug gently, and like the tide being pulled by the moon, Dax follows, stepping into the circle of comfort he’s spun from the fabric and feathers. It’s a sacred space, and I want him enveloped in it, wrapped in the textures and warmth he thoughtfully laid out for me.
“Sit,” I urge, patting a pillow next to me. “I can’t believe you did this.”
His large frame folds onto the nest and there’s a softness to him that only I get to witness. The hand that once seemed hesitant now rests beside mine, our fingers brushing like the whisper of a shared secret.
