Page 95 of The Knotheads Next Door
"I may have gotten a little... intense," he admits.
"I loved it," I assure him. "All of it. The teasing, the way you made me wait. It was perfect."
His smile is soft and genuine, so different from his usual composed expressions. "Good. I wanted it to be perfect for you."
The days blur together after that—a haze of need and satisfaction, of hands and mouths and bodies moving together in increasingly harmonious ways. Sometimes it's one alpha, sometimes another, each bringing their own unique approach to claiming me.
Sometimes they work in tandem—one taking me while another kisses me senseless, the third whispering filthy encouragement that makes me flush and clench with renewed desire. The coordination between them is seamless, as if they've been planning this choreography for years instead of hours.
Between the most intense waves, there are moments of surprising intimacy that have nothing to do with sex. Theoreading aloud from one of my books while I doze against his chest. Jasper's fingers gently working tangles from my hair after a particularly vigorous claiming. Wells feeding me small bites of food, insisting I maintain my strength with the same attention to detail he brings to everything.
It's during one of these quiet moments, as I'm cradled between Theo and Jasper while Wells strokes my hair, that clarity breaks through the heat-haze enough for a terrifying realization: this isn't just physical. The connection forming between us transcends biology, transcends the convenient explanation of heat-madness.
I'm falling for them. All of them. In different ways, for different reasons, but with equal intensity.
Theo, with his gentle hands and kind heart, who sees my vulnerability as strength rather than weakness.
Jasper, with his gruff exterior hiding depths of loyalty and protectiveness I never expected to crave.
Wells, with his careful control and analytical mind, who sees the patterns in chaos and brings order to my tumultuous emotions.
The thought of leaving them in mere days becomes physically painful, a tightness in my chest that has nothing to do with heat symptoms and everything to do with the pack bonds forming whether I acknowledge them or not.
On the fifth day, as my heat begins to wane, there's a shift in the atmosphere—a recognition that we're approaching the end of this intense, isolated time together. That soon, reality will intrude again, with all its complications and uncertainties.
They take me together one final time—a true claiming that feels like ceremony more than sex. Theo's gentle guidance, Jasper's possessive growls, Wells's commanding presence—all focused entirely on me, on marking me as theirs in ways that will linger long after my heat ends.
When it's over, I collapse between them, utterly spent, my body finally, finally satisfied. The burning need has receded, leaving behind a bone-deep contentment I've never experienced before. As I drift toward sleep, their scents surround me, their bodies warm against mine, I allow myself to imagine, just for a moment, that this doesn't have to end. That I could stay. That this could be my life—messy and complicated and utterly, perfectly right.
The question isn't whether I want to stay anymore.
It's whether I'm brave enough to ask if they want me to.
Chapter 28
Theo
Iwake before the others, years of early clinic shifts having trained my body to rise with the sun regardless of how little sleep I've had. The past five days have certainly qualified as sleep deprivation, though for the best possible reasons.
Rowan is nestled between us, her body curled predominantly toward me, though her hand rests on Jasper's chest and her feet are tangled with Wells's. Her scent has changed—deepened, sweetened, with clear notes of all three of us woven through her natural fragrance. She looks peaceful in sleep, the tension that usually tightens her features completely absent.
Beautiful. And terrifying in what she represents—possibility. Hope. Change.
I watch as consciousness slowly returns to her—the subtle shift in her breathing, the flutter of eyelashes, the small movements as her body registers the unfamiliar sensation of being surrounded by alphas. When her eyes finally open, there's a moment of perfect clarity—recognition, contentment, even happiness.
Then reality crashes in. I can see it happen—her expression shifting from soft contentment to confusion to dawning horror as memories of the past five days flood back. Her scent spikes with panic, her body tensing as if to flee.
"Easy," I murmur, keeping my voice low to avoid waking Jasper and Wells. "You're safe. You're with us."
Her eyes find mine, wide and uncertain. "Theo, I—we—"
"I know," I say, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. "It's okay."
But the panic doesn't recede from her scent. If anything, it intensifies as she becomes more fully aware of our situation—four naked bodies entwined in a nest of blankets and clothing, her skin marked with evidence of our days together, the room heavy with the mingled scents of sex and satisfaction and pack.
Beside her, Jasper stirs, his alpha instincts responding to the distress in her scent even before he's fully conscious. His eyes open, immediately finding Rowan, a brief flash of possessive satisfaction crossing his features before it's replaced by something darker, more guarded.
Guilt. I recognize it instantly, having seen it on his face too many times before. Guilt and the inevitable retreat that follows, the walls coming back up brick by brick.
