Page 40 of Knot a Good Idea

Liam laughs. “That’s amazing. C’mon, let’s go see what Donovan’s done to piss Hunter off.”

When he presses his hand to the small of my back, I don’t jump. Instead, I embrace the warmth that blooms at my core.

As we leave the bedroom, I take one last longing look at the inviting bed.

I have the urge to burrow under the blankets and stay there for hours on end.

“There are more blankets and pillows in the closet, too,” Liam adds. “In case you…if you…”

“I understand,” I cut him off, delighted at the flush that colors his cheeks.

It’s not like I’m going into Heat anytime soon, but having the closet stocked with nesting materials is a considerate gesture.

But it doesn’t matter. My last Heat was before the…incident, and my suppressants have kept me in check.

Nope. Not happening. At all.

We head downstairs and Liam leads me into the kitchen, and my mouth falls open.

“A double oven,” I whisper as Hunter and Donovan turn to me. They’re sitting at the white marble island, Donovan with his lips pulled into a thin line while Hunter grins at me.

“April is going to show me how to make macarons,” Liam announces while I gape at their kitchen.

It’s a chef’s dream. The island is made of light brown wood topped in sleek white marble and includes a deep stainless steel sink. The generous number of cabinets match the wood of the island, and the kitchen counters have enough space that I couldbake several different pastries at once. The chrome fridge is twice the size of the one I have at home.

I want to bake. I want the counters to overflow with cookies, pastries, and quiches.

My hands itch to do it.

In our time upstairs, Hunter and Donovan have managed to fill the island with different charcuterie plates.

I said I wasn’t hungry, but apparently, they didn’t care.

“Yeah, I doubt you’ll have time to bake this weekend,” Hunter mutters, then looks at me. “Sorry, sweetheart. Plans changed.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

Donovan narrows his eyes. “Eat first, then we’ll talk.”

“You might as well just tell her now,” Hunter says. “It’s not going to change your fuckup.”

“It wasn’t a fuckup,” Donovan growls. “Ididn’t change the date of the event.”

I look between them. “What’s going on?” I ask.

“Eat,” Donovan says.

I scowl. “I’m not hungry.”

And no one tells me what to do anymore, I want to add.

A voice I never want to hear again fills my head.

“You have to eat. I need you alive, and if you don’t eat, you’ll die. So, eat.”

My hands clench and I stare at the plates of cheese and meat, filled with more expensive food than I would ever purchase for myself.

“I don’t care if you’re not hungry. Eat something.” Donovan’s tone leaves no room for argument.

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