Page 122 of Knot So Lucky
I let my eyes flutter shut, too spent to reply, Heat still simmering under my skin but temporarily appeased.
I drift, floating in the dark, cradled by his arms and the certainty that nothing could pry me out of this nest.
Somewhere in the haze, I feel him settle in beside me, one hand splayed across my stomach, the other stroking my forehead. Protective. Possessive.
I can’t move even if I wanted to.
But I don’t. Not when the world feels this safe, this right, this irrevocably, violently mine.
On the edge of sleep, I wonder if the others will come soon—if the pack will grow, if the sheets will ever recover, if Cale can survive another round without losing his damn mind.
The last sensation I register is his scent—burnt cedar and need and home—before the Heat drags me under for real.
And if tomorrow brings another war, another round of racing, another battle for my own soul?
I’ll run it flat-out, one brutal lap at a time.
But for now, I surrender.
Collapse. Reset. Let the world outside of what I can only assume is a safehouse burn itself out while I sweat and dream and ache for the next hit.
CHAPTER 22
Burst Of Heat Part II
~AURORA~
Istir from the depths of sleep like emerging from a fog-shrouded track, my body heavy yet buzzing with residual fire, the kind that simmers under the hood after a long, punishing lap.
The air in the room feels charged, thick with the mingled scents of us—my smoked vanilla laced with gasoline, Cale's burnt cedar and bitter coffee still clinging to my skin, and now Elias's sandalwood and steel weaving through it all, grounding and sharp like polished metal on a chassis.
It's intoxicating, this blend, pulling at my Omega instincts even as I fight to surface fully, to remember who I am beyond the heat that's turned me into something feral and needy.
My eyelids flutter open, and the world sharpens into focus: the dim glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows across what must be a safehouse bedroom, all sleek lines and minimalist decor that screams temporary luxury, probably one of Lane Industries' hidden boltholes or something Cale pulled strings for.
The bed is a wreck, sheets twisted and damp, but I'm cradled between two solid forms—Cale on my left, his arm draped possessively over my waist, his breath steady and warm against my shoulder, and Elias on my right, sitting up slightly, his green eyes watching me with that quiet intensity that makes my pulse quicken.
He's not touching me yet, just observing, but the way his scent rolls off him in waves—sandalwood deepened by something earthy, like fresh-turned soil after rain, mixed with the metallic tang of steel—it's like he's already claiming the space around me.
I feel flushed all over again, heat pooling low in my belly, my core clenching involuntarily as memories of Cale's relentless claiming flood back. But this is different; Elias radiates a calm control that's playful at the edges, confident without the raw aggression Cale carries. Tender-dominant, my mind supplies, even as I squirm under the weight of his gaze.
"You're awake," Elias murmurs, his voice low and teasing, like he's sharing a secret joke.
He reaches out, brushing a damp strand of hair from my forehead with fingers that are surprisingly gentle for someone built like him—tall and deceptively soft, all tousled brown hair and freckles that belie the genius mechanic underneath. His touch sends sparks dancing across my skin, and I can't help the small gasp that escapes me.
Cale stirs beside me, his grey eyes cracking open, gold flecks catching the light as he assesses the situation.
"She's stirring again," he grunts, his voice rough from sleep or whatever passed for it in this heat-fueled haze. His hand tightens on my waist, possessive, but he doesn't pull me closer; instead, he nods subtly at Elias, like he's handing off the lead in a pit stop relay.
"Your turn, Vance. Don't fuck it up."
Elias chuckles, a low, warm sound that vibrates through the air, making my thighs press together instinctively.
"As if I could, with her looking at me like that." His eyes darken as they meet mine, playful confidence shining through. He leans in, kneeling properly now on the bed, his body a wall of quiet strength that blocks out everything else.
The scent of him intensifies—sandalwood wrapping around me like a mechanic's precise grip on a tool, steel underscoring it with unyielding promise. It's thrilling, this shift, like stepping from Cale's volatile storm into Elias's steady current, both competitive in their own ways, vying for my attention without words.
He starts with a soft kiss to my forehead, lips lingering just long enough to make me shiver.
