Page 21 of Knot Made to Break: Part One

But it had never beentheseAlphastouching you, had it?

“I could smell your fear,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear. “But you don’t need to be afraid anymore, not with us.”

That low timbre of his voice sparked tingles down my spine.

I bit my lip, torn between wariness at his proximity… and the shocking sensation of some long-starved, long-dormant part of me stirring. Comforted by his nearness. His touch. Almost desperate for it.

I swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of the heat rolling off Giovanni’s body. His arm around my waist felt like a brand searing through the thin material of my shirt. A piece of me wanted to shy away, the familiar urge to flee ingrained in my muscle memory. But another piece, one I didn’t quite recognize, leaned into his embrace.

“You’re safe,Dolcezza,” he purred, the lightest Italian lilt caressing the endearment. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

A shudder rippled through me at his words. Truthfully, they couldn’t say it enough. The more I heard it, the more it sank into my soul, the morerealit became. It was hard to believe, and yet, when he pulled me closer, tucking me against his solid frame, I felt an odd sense of security wash over me. Like his arms could form an impenetrable barrier against the outside world.

My hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him the way a child might clutch a beloved stuffed animal. Giovanni didn’t seem to mind. If anything, a low rumbling purr reverberated from his chest, the sound utterly primal. It turned my muscles to jello, and I positivelymelted.

“That’s it,” he murmured, nuzzling the top of my head. “Just breathe.”

I did as instructed, inhaling his heady scent. It surrounded me, weaving itself into the very fabric of my DNA.

When my stomach growled again, shattering the peaceful quiet, a deep chuckle tumbled from Giovanni’s lips. “Hungry, are we? Marco, what’s the ETA on breakfast?” the big man asked.

“Almost done,” he promised, flinging a kitchen towel over his shoulder after drying his hands. He grabbed a plate, and whatever he was making smelled almost as incredible as they did.

Marco spun with a flourish and set a dish before me. It was piled high with sausage, bacon, pancakes, and scrambled eggs smothered in melted cheese. Tentatively, I allowed a small smile to curve my lips as I peered up at him through my lashes.

“I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in… well, I can’t remember how long.”

The words hung heavily between us, a hint of how shitty my past had been. But the guys were gracious not to comment onit right now, as though they realized there was only so much I could handle in one morning.

Gio merely tightened his embrace while Marco’s blue eyes blazed with a protective fire.

“Get used to it, Angel,” Marco told me. “You’re home now. And we’re gonna spoil you rotten.”

eight

TOMMAS

Jogging down the steps,I flicked my shower-damp hair out of my eyes. I’d almost made it to the bottom when the softest feminine sound disconnected my brain from the rest of my goddamned body. I nearly fell off the last step, stumbling into the living room like a fuckin’ idiot. The scent hit me with the force of a wrecking ball—dark, mossy earth and flowers mingled with our various signatures. My gaze snapped across the open floor plan to the kitchen island.

Kitania sat nestled against Gio’s side, my old academy shirt engulfing her petite frame, the fabric hanging off one delicate shoulder. Hunger detonated low in my gut at the sight of her in my clothes, marked with my scent. A deeply primal part of me roared in approval.

“How the fuck did this happen?” I murmured mostly to myself, still awestruck, my nostrils flaring as I drank in that addictive fragrance of my Omega.

Dimitri and Marco looked up from the stove and counter where they puttered around, clearly lingering to bask in Kitania’s presence. My Butterfly startled, those ice-blue eyes flitting to me with a flash of wariness before recognition replaced it.

I cursed the shadows that lurked there and the nervous ticks that told me I’d frightened her—like her fidgeting fingers and the way her gaze darted, always aware of her surroundings, looking for the next threat.

Fuck.I hated that I’d scared her.

Pretending I hadn’t startled her, I sauntered into the kitchen. “Mornin’.”

“Hi,” Kitania said softly as a mouse. You had to be quiet to hear her, but I’d silence the whole damn world just to listen to that sweet voice.

I shot her a wink, happy as a pig in mud when she blushed and dipped her head. But not before I caught the way her lips curled in the corners.

And goddamn if her signature mixing with our pack’s essence didn’t feel…right. Like she belonged here, the center of our protective little circle.

Shoving down the urgency to yank her against me and rub my cheek over hers to scent-mark her, I rounded the island. Her delicate fingers reflexively tightened on her utensils as I approached. My brother’s arm flexed around her waist, securing her against his solid frame.

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