Page 57 of The Knotheads Next Door
Her eyes meet mine, wide and uncertain. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I was attracted to you before your scent started changing. Before the mini-heat episodes. Before any of that." It feels dangerous to admit, but also necessary. "I like you, Rowan. As a person. Your humor, your kindness, the way you care for Gerald. The way you stand up to Jasper when he's being an ass. The way you see people, really see them."
"Theo," she says, my name barely a whisper on her lips.
"I'm not telling you this to pressure you," I continue, needing her to understand. "Or to compete with Jasper, or Wells, or whatever else is happening. I'm telling you because I think you deserve honesty. Especially now, when everything feels so uncertain."
She looks shell-shocked, her scent a complex swirl of emotions—surprise, confusion, relief, and underneath it all, a warm note that makes my alpha instincts stir with hope.
"I don't know what to say," she admits. "I'm not... I've never been good at this. At feelings. At letting people in."
"You don't have to say anything," I assure her. "Or do anything. Just know that whatever happens, whatever you decide, I'm here. Not just as an alpha, not just as a roommate. As someone who cares about you."
A strand of hair has fallen across her face, and before I can think better of it, I reach out to tuck it behind her ear. It's a small gesture, innocent compared to whatever happened between her and Jasper last night, but the moment my fingers brush her skin, everything changes.
Her pupils dilate, her breath catches, and her scent—god, her scent—spikes with something sweet and inviting that makes myhead swim. She leans into my touch, just slightly, but enough that I feel it like a physical pull.
"Theo," she says again, and this time my name sounds like a plea.
Something primal and protective rises in my chest, a rumbling sound that starts deep and works its way up. A purr—the sound an alpha makes to soothe, to comfort, to claim. I've never made that sound before, not with anyone, but it feels right. Natural.
Rowan's reaction is immediate and stuns me. Her entire body seems to melt, tension draining away as she steps closer, her head tilting to expose the line of her neck in an unconscious gesture of submission that makes my alpha howl with satisfaction.
I should step back. Create distance. This is exactly the kind of complication we've all been trying to avoid.
Instead, I find myself drawing her closer, one hand cupping her face, the other settling at the small of her back. The purr continues, rumbling through me, through her where our bodies connect.
"Is this okay?" I ask, my voice rough with restraint.
She nods, her eyes half-closed, her body swaying toward mine like a flower seeking the sun. "Yes. Please."
I don't kiss her, even though every cell in my body screams for it. That feels like a line we can't uncross, especially after what happened with Jasper. Instead, I simply hold her, letting my scent wrap around her, letting the purr soothe away the anxiety and confusion that's been clouding her scent for days.
She fits against me perfectly, her head tucked under my chin, her heartbeat gradually slowing to match mine. For a few precious minutes, we just stand there in the kitchen, holding each other, neither of us willing to break the spell.
But reality intrudes, as it always does. The sound of a car door slamming outside makes us both tense, and Rowan steps back, her eyes clearing as she puts distance between us.
"I should get ready for work," she says, not quite meeting my gaze. "Even with the extra hour."
"Right," I agree, running a hand through my hair. "And I've got appointments at the clinic."
She hesitates, then says, "Thank you. For listening. For not pushing. For..." She gestures vaguely between us, unable to put into words whatever just happened.
"Anytime," I say, meaning it more than she can possibly know.
She smiles, small but genuine, and heads upstairs. I watch her go, the ghost of her warmth still lingering on my skin, her scent still filling my lungs.
It's only when I turn back to the abandoned pancake batter that I notice Jasper standing in the doorway to the garage, his expression a complicated mix of guilt, longing, and territorial frustration.
How long has he been there? Long enough, clearly, by the way his jaw is clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
"Jasper," I start, but he shakes his head.
"Don't," he says, his voice low and tight. "Just... don't."
He turns and walks back into the garage, letting the door swing shut behind him with a definitive click.
Great. As if things weren't complicated enough already.
