Page 81 of Knot Happening Again

But as I watch Ophelia's face relax in sleep, I can't help but feel a sense of rightness settle over me. This is where we're meant to be. This is who we're meant to be with. And for the first time ever, our pack is going to be complete.

CHAPTER 22

TROY

Iwake with a start, my eyes snapping open as consciousness floods back to me. The first thing that hits me is the scent—jasmine and ocean breeze mingled with the musky aroma of sex.

It's intoxicating, making my cock twitch despite how thoroughly we all fucked her last night. The memories come rushing back, vivid and intense. Ophelia writhing beneath us, her cries of pleasure echoing through the room, the taste of her skin on my tongue.

Blinking away the last vestiges of sleep, I take in my surroundings. The nesting room is bathed in soft morning light filtering through the gossamer curtains. Clothes are strewn haphazardly across the floor, a testament to our frenzied undressing the night before. The air is thick with pheromones, a heady cocktail that makes my head spin.

Ophelia's curled up between me and Maddox, her raven hair splayed across the pillow like a dark halo. She looks peaceful in sleep, all the tension gone from her face. I can't help but stare, drinking in the sight of her.

My eyes trace the curve of her cheek, the soft pout of her lips, the elegant line of her neck. Even in sleep, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

It's hard to believe she's really here, that she's ours. The possessive thought surprises me—I've never been one for commitment, always keeping people at arm's length. But with Ophelia, everything's different.

I glance around the room, noticing Rhys's absence. That's odd—he was here when I fell asleep, his knot buried deep in Ophelia. I remember the look of bliss on his face as he claimed her, the way he whispered words of adoration against her skin. Where could he have gone?

"Where's Rhys?" I ask, my voice rough with sleep. The words come out more worried than I intended, and I clear my throat, trying to play it cool.

Mace, who's sitting in a chair by the bed, looks up from his phone. His large frame seems almost comically oversized for the delicate piece of furniture, but there's a gentleness to his posture that belies his intimidating size. "He went looking for Leon," he says, his tone carefully neutral.

I snort, shaking my head. That's the last thing any of us should have to worry about right now, chasing a pack member who should be here to take care ofourscent match. Leon's absence has been like a black hole in our pack, sucking the joy out of what should be the happiest time of our lives. "Guess that answers my next question," I mutter, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.

I don't known what the hell is wrong with Leon. It's like he's been body snatched. He's usually so reliable. Dependable. Hell, I'm the black sheep of this little ensemble, not him.

A soft whimper draws my attention back to Ophelia. There's a sheen of sweat on her skin, tiny droplets glistening in the hollow of her throat and along her collarbone. She's shiftingrestlessly in her sleep, her brow furrowed as if in pain. Fuck, her heat's getting worse again. It seems to come in waves, each one more intense than the last.

The urge to mark her, to claim her as ours, hits me like a freight train. My canines ache with the need to sink into her flesh, to leave a permanent mark that would tell the world she belongs to us. I can't believe I'm already ready for that—desperate. I've always been the most hesitant about bringing an omega into our pack, aside from Leon. But Ophelia... she's different. She's ours.

And the sooner that asshole's mark is off her perfect skin, the better.

But I know we have to take things at her pace. She's been through so much already—the abandonment, the broken mark, years of struggling on her own. We can't rush this, no matter how much my instincts scream at me to make her ours in every way possible.

I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. They're warm and plush against mine, tasting faintly of the strawberries we fed her last night to keep her energy up. She refused anything more substantial, and Rhys warned the pills she has to take might make her a little queasy.

"Ophelia," I murmur against her mouth, my voice low and husky. "Wake up, beautiful. Are you okay?"

Her eyes flutter open, those piercing blue orbs locking onto mine. For a moment, she looks confused, her gaze unfocused and hazy with sleep. Then recognition dawns, and she deepens the kiss, her tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes heat pool in my gut.

Fuck, this woman is so perfect. I can't believe I doubted she was right for us, even for a second.

Even if all those doubts went flying out the window the second I laid eyes on her.

Makes me even more furious with the asshole who rejected her. How could he look into those baby blues and want to give her anything less than the whole world? It still wouldn't be anything close to what she deserves.

Ophelia arches into me, her body writhing under mine. Her breasts press against my chest, soft and full, and I can't resist reaching up to cup one in my hand. She moans into my mouth as I roll her nipple between my fingers, the sound going straight to my cock.

The scent of her arousal spikes, filling the air with a sweet, heady aroma that makes my head spin. It's like nothing I've ever smelled before—intoxicating, addictive. I want to drown in it, to lose myself in her scent and never come up for air.

Mace grins, standing up from his chair. The wood creaks in protest as he shifts his weight, reminding me of his presence. "Looks like Troy's up," he says, his voice tinged with amusement. "I'm going to go make breakfast. We all need fuel. Especially you, little one. No fussing about it this time."

He gives her a stern but affectionate glance and she returns it with a teasing salute.

Mace grins and pulls on a pair of boxers and sweats. As he heads out, I catch a glimpse of the tent in his gray sweats. Seems like Ophelia's scent is affecting all of us.

As I trail kisses down Ophelia's neck, savoring the taste of her skin, Maddox stirs beside us. The guy could sleep through a damn hurricane. He blinks awake, his eyes bleary with sleep for a moment before focusing on us. A slow smile spreads across his face as he takes in the scene, his pupils dilating with desire.

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