Page 93 of Knot Your Business

“You need to sleep,” I mutter into his shoulder.

Dominic grunts and closes the last bit of distance between us, his own interest pressing against my ass. My knees weaken, and his arm tightens around me.

Fuck, I’ve missed him.

Reality slams back into me so hard, I lose my breath and flinch. Dominic freezes, his lips stilling on my shoulder, his open hand pausing where it had been working to undo my belt. Rylan’s growl starts again, and I push away from them both, not wanting to be in the middle of whatever I just accidentally triggered. Not tonight. I have nothing left in me right now.

“Tesoro,” Dominic growls.

Fuck. All I want is to sink into his warmth and strength. But I can’t. Not when I’m days away from having to watch Violet walk out of my life. Again.

Will we survive it? I think so. But I don’t want to have to survive it. I’d begged and pleaded so that I wouldn’t have to survive it.

I shake my head. “I can’t do this right now. Not with her in heat and the annulment sitting in our fucking living room.”

Both men freeze. A long silence stretches between us.

“Jasper,” Rylan whispers, his voice soothing. It sluices over me but doesn’t find anywhere to latch onto. Another reminder of me being a goddamn Beta.

I frown and take another step away before cracking open the door to Violet’s nest. She’s curled into herself, her back toward the door, a light pink throw blanket covering most of her body. Her shoulders move with her steady breathing. A single lamp in the far corner illuminates the room, gilding her in light so perfect it makes my knees weak.

I resist the urge to touch her by the skin of my teeth. I shove my hands into the pockets of my sweats, clenching them against the force of the need to feel that she’s really all right. If I touch her right now, it’ll probably wake her up. And there’s nothing I can do to help her through this.

As angry as I am with the men, I won’t take away the few hours of rest they’re going to have while she sleeps.

Closing the door, I blink back the sudden tears, the exhaustion of the night compounding everything else that sits on my chest like a stone. Movement behind me has me blowing out a breath.

“Jasper,” Dominic says.

I shake my head again before twisting away from the door. My lovers stand in front of me, shoulder to shoulder, their mouths identical thin lines. I dodge around both men, avoiding touching them, and start down the stairs.

“Not tonight,” I say. “I need one more night where I don’t have to actually acknowledge that she’s not mine. Again.”

Forty-Four

RYLAN

Iclose the door to the nest, keeping the latch from making any noise. I double check the sound monitor is on before heading toward the main living space of the house. The smells of breakfast filter through to me, and I hold back a groan. My stomach rumbles, and I try to remember when I last ate.

Probably last night while Dominic admitted to me that he’d been wrong about Violet while waiting for Jasper to get home.

Never in a million fucking years had I expected him to look me dead in the eye the moment he’d reheated some pizza and set it on the island and then spill so much about his own internalized hatred of his designation and the limitation he sees it being. By the time he confessed that he not only felt awful over how he’d treated Violet but that he wanted to try and mend things between them before letting her file the annulment?

Part of me is still convinced I dreamt the entire fucking sequence.

Jasper looks up from where he’s mixing something at the stove, his eyes red with fatigue. Dominic stands beside him, a hand on his hip, and he looks just as wrung out. Both wear nearly identical white shirts and gray sweats. It makes me smile for a heartbeat, and Jasper’s shoulders ease away from his ears.

“Yours is over here,” Jasper says, motioning to a smaller pan that’s already off the heat. “It doesn’t have any of the jalapeño in it.”

I grab a tortilla and then the egg mix, rolling it all into a simple—if ugly—burrito.

Thank God for Jasper and his phenomenal cooking. This is leagues better than the food provided by the Haven.

“How is she?” Jasper asks, not looking up from the eggs he’s still stirring.

“Definitely into the thick of it,” I say, setting the burrito down and hopping onto the counter on the other side of the stove. “I had to force her to use mouthwash, and her hair is a mess right now, but I think it’ll wait until after her next wave. She cried over it being too bright, so all the blackout curtains are shut now.”

Jasper nods. “I can work through her hair after the next wave while you rest.” He turns off the burner’s flame and spoons eggs into two tortillas already arranged beside him. He blows out a breath as he sets the pan on the back burner, dropping his head, not looking at either of us. “Paperwork is due Wednesday. What are the chances she’ll be lucid by then?”

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