Page 147 of Hard Knot

It's fine,I tell myself firmly.The new prescription is stronger anyway. Missing a few days won't matter.

But there's a nagging voice in the back of my mind that won't quite believe it. The same voice that's been noting how sensitive my skin feels lately, how certain scents seem sharper, how the guys' presence affects me more intensely than it should.

Just paranoia.

I insist silently or else my brain is going to go wild with random thoughts.

You're not going into Heat. They’ll be more warning signs.

The alternative is too terrifying to contemplate.

Not here, not now, not when everything is finally starting to feel right.

My eyes drift back to Carter and his mysterious companion. They're still talking, heads bent close together like conspirators. It's strange seeing Carter so focused — usually he's the one cracking jokes or trying to distract Holmes into showing actual emotions.

Something's brewing.

I can feel it in the air, in the way the pack's energy has shifted lately. They're planning something, though they're careful not to discuss it around me. I catch fragments sometimes — whispered conversations that stop when I enter a room, meaningful glances exchanged during classes, late-night meetings I'm not invited to.

Part of me wants to demand answers, to remind them that I'm supposed to be part of this pack now. But a larger part understands their need for secrets, for maintaining certain boundaries even as others fall away.

Trust takes time.

I have to remind myself, switching legs to stretch my other side.

And some secrets are meant to be protected.

I should know — I'm keeping plenty of my own, but they don’t pressure me to reveal them.

"Daydreaming?"

I blink, startled to find James' face inches from mine. I must have been completely lost in thought to miss his approach.

His brow furrows as he presses a hand to my forehead.

"You okay? You seem a bit out of it."

"I'm fine," I reassure him quickly, though the warmth of his hand feels oddly soothing against my skin. "Just thinking."

He drops smoothly into the splits beside me, and I can't help but admire how the dance attire suits his mature form. It's been years since I've seen him like this — the lean muscle developed from martial arts translating beautifully to dance positions.

"You're staring," he murmurs, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Can you blame me?" I whisper back. "It's been a while since I've seen you in proper dancewear."

His eyes darken slightly.

"Keep looking at me like that and we'll have to find the nearest empty room."

A laugh bubbles up from my chest.

"Careful. Carter will get jealous if he hears you talking like that."

"Too late," Carter calls from the edge of the stage, making me jump slightly. "Already heard everything, and if James doesn't stop that foolishness, I'll have to intervene myself."

James' answering chuckle reverberates through me, but before he can respond, the judges clear their throats pointedly. The sound draws our attention to the mysterious man Carter was talking to earlier, who now holds a microphone as he approaches the stairs leading to the stage.

James rises gracefully, extending his hand to help me up. We move to the side of the stage, his arm sliding possessively around my lower back to keep me close.

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