Page 47 of Knot Happening Again

Rhys's words echo in my mind: "You don't have to. Not anymore" The promise in those words is tempting, so tempting it scares me. I've been on my own for so long, I'm not sure I remember how to let someone in.

And then there's the matter of my job. How could I possibly explain to them what I do for a living?

The thought of seeing disgust in their eyes, of watching them recoil from me... it's almost too much to bear. I came so close to admitting the truth, but maybe it's for the best that I didn't get to tell him.

I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. The nest is ridiculously comfortable, the sheets softer than anything I've ever slept on. It's a stark reminder of the world these alphas inhabit. A world of wealth and privilege that's so far removed from my own experiences.

Part of me wants to run. To gather my things and slip out while Rhys is gone, before I can get in any deeper. It would be easier that way. Safer. I could go back to my life, to the carefully constructed walls that have protected me for so long.

But another part of me, a part I've tried to silence for years, wants to stay. Wants to see where this could go. Wants to believe that maybe I could have something good and stable in my life. That I deserve it.

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of the alphas surrounds me—Rhys's scent of petrichor and sunlight, Mace's warm, comforting aroma of freshly baked cookies, Troy's intoxicating blend of bourbon and leather.

It all feels so right.

So… safe.

My hand drifts to the mark on my neck, the constant reminder of my past. Of betrayal and abandonment. Of dreams shattered and trust broken.

Can I really risk opening myself up again?

Can I trust these alphas not to hurt me the way he did?

I think about the way Rhys looked at me, like I was something precious. The way Mace's strong arms held me, making me feel safe for the first time in years. The way Troy's walls came down, revealing a vulnerability that matched my own.

It's terrifying, this pull I feel toward them. This desire to let down my guard, to be vulnerable. To trust.

But maybe it's worth the risk.

I sit up, running a hand through my tangled hair. I need a shower, need to clear my head. As I make my way to the en-suite bathroom, I catch sight of myself in the full-length mirror.

I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. My skin is flushed, my eyes bright. There's a softness to my expression that I haven't seen in years. I look... happy. Content.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. I want this. I want the warmth and safety these alphas offer. I want to be part of something, to belong.

But wanting isn't enough. I've learned that lesson the hard way.

As I step into the shower, letting the hot water wash over me, I try to sort through the jumble of emotions swirling inside me.

I lean my forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall, closing my eyes. I'm so tired of being alone. So tired of keeping everyone at arm's length. But I'm even more afraid of letting someone in, only to have them leave when they discover the truth.

As I step out of the shower, wrapping myself in a plush towel, I catch the scent of food wafting up from downstairs. My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven't eaten since Mace's gourmet dinner hours ago.

I dress in a soft T-shirt and shorts I find in the dresser, marveling at how perfectly they fit. These alphas have thought of everything.

I make my way downstairs, following the scent of food. I find Mace in the kitchen, his broad back to me as he stands at the stove. Troy is perched on a barstool at the island, nursing a cup of coffee.

They both look up as I enter, their expressions softening. "Hey, little one," Mace rumbles, his voice warm. "Hungry?"

I nod, suddenly shy. It feels different, being around them outside of the intensity of my heat. More real, somehow.

"Sit," Troy says, gesturing to the stool next to him. "Mace is making his famous midnight pancakes."

I settle onto the stool, watching as Mace flips a perfect golden pancake onto a plate. He slides it in front of me, along with a bottle of syrup and a bowl of fresh berries.

"Eat up," he says, his gray eyes twinkling. "You need to keep your strength up."

I dig in, moaning softly at the first bite. The pancakes are fluffy and delicious, melting in my mouth. "These are amazing," I mumble around a mouthful.

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