Page 77 of The Knotheads Next Door
The plea in her voice, so unusual for proud, independent Rowan, breaks something open in my chest. I set the washcloth aside, shifting closer on the bed.
"I'll need to be closer," I warn, giving her one last chance to reconsider.
In response, she sits up, moving toward me with a determination that belies the trembling in her limbs. When she'sclose enough, I cautiously place my hands on her shoulders, testing her reaction.
She doesn't pull away. If anything, she leans into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed again.
Slowly, giving her time to object, I draw her closer until she's nestled against my chest. Her heat-warmed body feels right in my arms, like a puzzle piece. I run my hands down her back in long, soothing strokes, and she practically melts into me with a small sound that's part relief, part surrender.
"Is this okay?" I murmur, my lips close to her ear.
She nods against my chest, hands fisting in my shirt. "Better. So much better."
The rumbling purr starts in my chest without conscious thought, a sound of comfort and claiming that vibrates between us. I feel her responding to it, her body relaxing incrementally as my scent begins to mingle with hers.
Carefully, I brush her hair aside and press my face to her neck, where her scent is strongest. The skin-to-skin contact sends a jolt through both of us, her sharp intake of breath mirroring my own. I nuzzle gently, my stubble grazing the sensitive spot behind her ear as I mark her with my scent.
"You're safe," I murmur, the words spilling out unbidden. "I've got you. We've got you."
A soft whimper escapes her, but it's different now—relief rather than distress. I continue the gentle scent-marking, my hands still moving in soothing patterns over her back, her arms, anywhere I can reach without crossing into territory too intimate for this fragile moment of trust.
The door opens quietly without warning. Jasper stands there, his expression darkening as he takes in the scene—Rowan in my arms, my face at her neck, her body melted against mine. His alpha pheromones spike with something primal and possessive that makes my own instincts rise in response.
For a moment, I think he might challenge me, might try to assert dominance or stake his own claim. Instead, he turns abruptly and storms away, the sound of his footsteps heavy on the stairs.
Rowan tenses in my arms, clearly sensing the shift in energy. "Is he...?"
"He's struggling," I explain gently. "We all are, in different ways. Seeing you like this, in pain, needing help—it triggers every protective instinct we have."
"I don't want to need help," she admits, her voice muffled against my chest. "I don't want to need... any of this."
I glance up to see Wells now standing in the doorway, his expression carefully controlled but his scent betraying the turmoil beneath. Our eyes meet over Rowan's head, a silent communication passing between us.
He wants to come in, to offer his own comfort, to add his scent to the mix that's clearly helping ease Rowan's symptoms. But he's holding back, respecting her request for just me, fighting his alpha instincts with the iron control that defines him.
I give him a small nod of acknowledgment, of respect for his restraint. He returns it before stepping back, pulling the door partially closed again to give us privacy.
Rowan sighs, her body growing heavier in my arms as some of the fever's edge recedes. I should pull away now, while I still have the willpower to do so. Before the comfort I'm offering crosses into something more complicated, more primal.
But she feels so right in my arms. And the knowledge that my presence, my scent, my touch is easing her suffering makes it almost impossible to let go.
"Theo?" she murmurs, already sounding drowsy as the heat temporarily ebbs.
"Hmm?"
"Thank you. For not... pushing. For just... this."
The simple gratitude in her voice strengthens my resolve. I gently disentangle myself, ignoring the way my body protests the loss of contact. She looks up at me, confusion and something like hurt flashing in her eyes.
"You should rest while you can," I explain, helping her lie back against the pillows. "The relief won't last long, but sleep might help."
She nods, already looking more comfortable than she has since this began. I pull the light sheet over her, carefully tucking it around her shoulders.
"I'll be close," I promise, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead in a touch that lingers longer than necessary. "We all will. You don't have to fight this alone, Rowan."
"I've always been alone," she says, the words slipping out as her eyes grow heavy. "It's safer that way."
"Maybe," I concede, watching as she drifts toward sleep, her features softening in a way they rarely do when she's fully conscious. "But it's not the only way."
