Page 78 of Knot My Band: Part Two
“Smells like Dax has been busy,” I observe, the rich scents of breakfast weaving their way into my senses.
“Trying to fatten you up after your… strenuous activities,” Aiden teases, his voice low and resonant against my ear. It sends butterflies through me, the good kind.
With a gentle chuckle, he sets me down carefully onto a kitchen chair like I’m a precious cargo—which, in their eyes, I most certainly am.
I sigh contentedly, surrounded by my mates, enveloped in the warmth of our shared life.
The kitchen is a flurry of activity as Dax commands the space like he’s born to it. His dark hair falls like a shadow across his brow, concentration etched in the hard lines of his jaw. The sizzle and pop from the stove accompany the subtle clack of utensils against pans, creating a rhythm that has my toes tapping lightly on the wooden floor.
“Hungry, angel?” Dax grunts without looking up, his voice as rich and warm as the coffee I’m craving. But I don’t mind waiting for my caffeine fix, not when the whiff of herbs and something savory teases my senses.
“Smells divine, Dax.” I lean back in the chair, watching him move with a precision that belies his gruff exterior.
“Only the best for you,” he says, and there’s a softness there, just beneath the surface.
As I settle more comfortably into the chair, Chase sidles up behind me, his presence a welcome heat along my back. “You sore, little rose?” His silky, sinful voice, wrapped in concern, makes my heart skip.
His hands, drummer’s hands, find my shoulders with a skilled touch, and the massage begins, kneading away the lingering aches from the week before.
“Let’s get rid of these knots, shall we?” Chase murmurs, his breath ghosting over the nape of my neck. Each press of his thumbs sends waves of relief through my muscles, unravelingtension with every stroke. He’s attentive, always tuned in to my needs, and I revel in the care he bestows upon me.
“That feels good,” I tease, tipping my head forward to grant him better access.
“Only if I’m touching you,” he retorts, humor lacing his tone.
“Flatterer,” I accuse, but my smile betrays the genuine pleasure I take in his praise. Chase knows just how to make me feel adored and valued beyond measure, and as I sink further into the cocoon of his touch, all I can think is how lucky I am to be surrounded by such love.
The clatter of dishes snaps my attention away from the heavenly ministrations of Chase’s hands, and I turn to see Dax approaching with a steaming plate in his hands. His usually stern face softens as he sets the meal before me—a colorful array of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a side of fresh berries.
“Made with extra care, just for you,” Dax says, his voice gruff but tinged with a warmth that only I seem to melt.
“Smells amazing,” I murmur, my stomach growling in approval. The flavors burst on my tongue with each bite, a testament to Dax’s unexpected culinary talents. The eggs are fluffy and perfectly seasoned, while the bacon provides a satisfying crunch. It’s comfort food.
“Thank you, Dax,” I say, my gaze meeting his eyes, which hold a spark of pride at my evident enjoyment. “You always know how to spoil me.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile. Swirling emotions cascade through me, a symphony composed of the love from each of my mates. I feel the chords of their affection vibrating down our bonds, resonating deep within my soul. There’s Chase’s vibrant energy, like sunshine breaking through the clouds, wrapping me in brightness and laughter. And now, Dax’s stoic presence, a bastion of strength with an undercurrent of tenderness, he reveals only to me.
Leaning back into the plush cushions of the dining chair, I let out a satisfied sigh and survey the faces of my mates. Each one captures a unique piece of my heart. Chase’s grinning face is like a beacon of joy, his laughter infectious, brightening even the darkest corners of any room.
“Looking at me like that can only mean trouble,” Chase teases, winking from across the table as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Only the best kind,” I shoot back, the playful exchange sending warmth spiraling through me.
Aiden’s presence washes over me next, calm and steady like a gentle stream. His shy smile and the way his brown eyes linger on me, soft and adoring, ground me. In the bond, his tranquility is a lullaby, whispering promises of eternal support. He speaks volumes in the quiet moments, never needing to raise his voice to be heard by my heart.
Dax stands just off to the side, his towering figure a silhouette against the morning light streaming through the windows. The bond with him is complex, a tapestry woven from threads of gruff strength and unexpected softness—a softness I’ve only recently come to know. It’s like discovering a secret garden behind an imposing stone wall, full of wonders meant only for me.
“Everything to your satisfaction?” Dax asks, his hazel eyes searching mine for any sign of displeasure.
“Perfectly,” I assure him, and the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly—an intimate reward.
And then there’s Jack. Pure alpha, all edge, and intensity. His energy envelops me, and the bond with him is an electric current that dances under my skin. His obsession and command are wrapped in an irresistible package, and when he sets those piercing blue eyes on me, I’m lost in the storm.
I’m awash with gratitude, my heart swelling with the fullness of being so cherished. Each look, every touch, speaks volumes about their devotion. This all-encompassing love can be overwhelming at times, but it’s mine to bask in, to revel in, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
At this moment, nestled safely in our pack house, I am content. No, more than that—I am utterly, blissfully happy. Surrounded by the men who love me, who I love in return, I’ve found a place where I belong, a harmony that sings through every fiber of my being. It’s a love song, one that plays endlessly, a melody that we’ll compose together, day by day.
I turn away from their adoring gazes, letting my eyes wander around the pack house. It’s spacious and modern, yet something about it feels… unfinished, like a canvas awaiting its first stroke of paint. My mind whirls with possibilities. A splash of color here, some throw pillows there, maybe even a wall of framed memories—a collage of our shared life.
