Page 42 of Knot That Delicate

“Oh, sorry,” I said, turning back to look at the target, my face heating up. Could he tell what I was thinking about? I sincerely hoped not.

“Okay, on the count of three, shoot. Three, two, one…”

On his count, I let loose and pressed down on the trigger. The shot was loud, louder than I’d expected. Even though I understood that gunshots were loud, I hadn’t actually been around a gun while it was being shot. My hands lifted ever so slightly with the recoil, but I managed to keep my arms fairly firm in place.

“Holy crap, that was strong,” I said with a breathless laugh.

Dylan hummed approvingly. “Yeah, but you did good. Look at the target.”

I turned to focus on the target, and sure enough, I hadn’t hit the target dead on, on the bullseye, but I wasn't far off. “Oh, thatisgood,” I said, turning to look at him without moving the gun, keeping it facing forward and safe. “That’s a good shot, isn’t it? I’m definitely getting a cake, aren’t I?”

Dylan nodded. “You’re definitely going to get a cake. But, first, let’s keep going.”

Iwas going out of my goddamn mind.

Things were good.

Too good.

We were comfortable, like a little makeshift pack. I wasn't actually part of their pack, but temporarily, things were going really well. We were at ease with each other, there were no awkward silences. We were finally getting along. So, why? Why did my stupid, treacherous omega body decide that it wanted to get horny?

I’d a moment with each of the guys: from the kiss with Carter that I still dreamed about, to the moment I nearly kissed Asher in the kitchen, to the feeling of having Dylan standing behind me, holding my hips while we were shooting guns. At this point,I was the horniest virgin that ever existed, surely. If it weren’t for the fact that alphas had great hearing, I might have attempted a little solo exploration, just to see if I could give myself a few happy moments. I understood the basics. I knew what orgasms were; my family had many open conversations, but I had been young when Alec took me, so I never really had that time to explore, and there was no way in hell I was going to do that while I was locked in a basement with a psycho. Especially one who was waiting for me to have a heat so he could fuck me and pretend he was an alpha.

I couldn’t help but wonder if there would really be any harm if me and the guys had a little bit of fun? I wasn’t naive—I could see that each of them constantly had a boner around me. I was an omega, and I smelled good; omegas always smelled good to alphas. These guys smelled downright delicious to me, like sex personified. Every time one of them was near me, I just wanted to shove my face in their armpit and huff deeply, which I knew was a disturbing mental image, and I chided myself many times when I thought about doing that. But that didn’t change the fact that all my omega wanted to do was huff armpits. Maybe my time in that basement had well and truly broken me.

My entire body felt off-kilter, which was bizarre because I’d finally started feeling almost normal after weeks at the cabin. After so long in captivity, it had taken me a while to feel some semblance of normal. But I was comfortable, I was happy, I was well-fed, but now, things were changing again, and I wasn’t sure if it was for the better. My stomach was starting to cramp, my chest was always tight, and every time I smelled the guys, something inside me lurched.

And yet, the guys were nothing but gentlemen about it. They probably understood what I was going through. They could tell I wasn’t exactly subtle with my longing glances. And I didn't think that it was because they didn’t want me—they definitely wantedme—but they wouldn’t pressure me. Consent really wasn’t a thing, considering the situation we were in… would it truly be consent if I was trapped here after being trapped in a basement for five years? Before I made the choice to actually be with a pack, I would need a lot of therapy.

Still, I couldn’t help but imagine what life with them would be like. What was their home like in the city? Did they live in a townhouse or an apartment? What kind of home would it be? Would it be warm and cozy, like the cabin, or would it be more modern? They guys moved together like a well-oiled machine, and that didn’t feel too surprising in the cabin, when they were together all day, every day. But I wondered what it would be like in the city, when each of them were going about their day jobs?

“Earth to Juniper.” Asher’s voice broke into my thoughts, his head cocked to the side.

I jumped. We were in the kitchen, kneading bread again. It had turned into a weekly ritual for us, and sometimes we did it more than once a week, because, between the four of us, we were getting through a lot of bread. Now that Asher had taught me how to make homemade butter from scratch, we were all addicted. There was no way I was going to be underweight by the time the weather cleared and the phone signals were restored. I’d be plump and happy because of the sheer amount of bread and butter I was consuming every day.

“Oh, yeah. I’m fine, just daydreaming,” I said with a giggle, turning back to the dough. I tried not to look at him, not wanting to admit I’d been daydreaming about him lifting me onto the counter and having his way with me. Surely, I would need to be more experienced to have such vivid, explicit daydreams? But apparently not ’cause they were haunting me, and it was the guys’ fault for smelling so good.

“Urm, can we make this one sea salt and rosemary?” I asked, cocking my head to the side, focusing on the dough in my hands,the rhythmic movements of kneading. It was both relaxing and exhausting, and I liked that. I liked having something to do with my hands.

I was slowly getting stronger with each day. I was able to knead the bread longer, to run on the treadmill for longer, to lift more stuff. My training with Dylan was doing the trick. I wouldn’t be able to kick alpha ass anytime soon. At least, not against a military guy, like Dylan, Asher, or Carter. But, you know, against a run-of-the-mill alpha, I might be able to hold my own.

Asher nodded. “Yeah, we can go and get some fresh rosemary. I’m pretty sure we can have some in the greenhouse.” He rinsed the leftover dough from his hands at the sink before drying them with a tea towel with little decorative mushrooms on it. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Yeah, just give me two more minutes to finish kneading this, then I’ll put it in to prove while we go get it,” I said, smiling.

He grinned appreciatively. “You’re learning. Before long, you’ll be better at breadmaking than me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said with a giggle. “Remember the chili jalapeno loaf?”

Asher winced. “Yeah, that wasn’t your finest moment.”

We’d discussed the possibility of making a loaf with jalapenos, chili powder, maybe some cheese, and a little bit of spice. Only, I’d added so much spice that all the guys had taken one bite, then run to the fridge to find milk or some other drinks to soothe their burning throats. I hadn’t taken a bite yet, so when I grabbed the loaf to see what the guys were moaning over, Dylan had run over and grabbed the loaf from my hands before I could taste it.

He chucked it out the window, giving me a stern look. “You arenotto eat that,” he’d said, red-faced.

I turned to Asher with a befuddled expression, and he nodded in agreement, muttering, “It’s very hot, darling.” Since then, I hadn’t tried any spicy loaves.

I rinsed my hands and peeked into the cupboards to see if the other ingredients I was considering were there. “Should we do a sweet loaf as well? We have plenty of dough,” I said, turning to look at Asher and the bowls of dough we had been working on. There was easily enough for four loaves, so we could have some fun with flavours.

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