Page 165 of Hard Knot

I laugh, shaking my head.

“At least give us an hour to rest. Sex is exhausting, in case you forgot.”

Carter scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Good luck,” he says, his smirk widening. “I’m finding your man cave, Felix. Wherever you’ve hidden it, I’m going to make it my personal space.”

“Good luck,” I shoot back, letting my voice drip with sarcasm as I press the intercom button off.

The kitchen falls silent again, except for the faint sound of James laughing under his breath.

With a satisfied smirk, I lean back into my chair, shifting slightly to make sure Elizabeth is completely supported. She murmurs something soft and unintelligible against my chest, her warmth lulling me into a state of peace I can’t remember feeling in years.

I press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the faint traces of her scent that still cling to her skin. My hand rests lightly on her waist, keeping her close as my eyes flutter shut.

Pure contentment washes over me, and for once, I let myself drift.

Swaying Acceptance

~ELIZABETH~

The bass thrums through my bones as I make my way to the bar, still riding the high of endless dancing. My feet should hurt from all the spinning and jumping I've done with James, Carter, and Felix, but the alcohol in my system has turned any potential pain into a pleasant tingling sensation.

Everything feels softer around the edges, warmer somehow.

The crowd parts easily – whether from the pack's reputation or just good luck, I'm not sure, anddefinitelytoo tipsy to care. My skin gleams with a light sheen of sweat, and I can feel some strands of hair sticking to my neck, but for once I'm not worried about looking perfect.

This is what freedom feels like.

I can’t help but think that again and again, a giddy smile spreading across my face.

Not caring who's watching or judging.

The bartender catches my eye as I approach, his professional smile widening slightly at what must be my obviously intoxicated state.

"What can I get you?"

"Something sweet," I say, already reaching for my clutch to grab a twenty. "Like, diabetes in a glass sweet. The kind of drink that makes dentists cry."

A hand appears in my peripheral vision, presenting a crisp hundred-dollar bill before I can even open my wallet.

"Make it virgin," a familiar voice commands.

My lips purse as I turn to face the culprit, having to tilt my head back further than usual to meet his gaze.

When did Holmes get so tall? Has he always been this tall?

"Holmesovich," I drawl, poking his chest with my finger. "I ain't no virgin, so you better let me drink what I want."

He doesn't react to my finger jabbing his sternum, just watches me with that infuriatingly calm expression. The club's lighting plays across his features, creating interesting shadows that make it hard to focus on his face.

Or maybe that's just the alcohol.

I squint up at him, trying to make his features stop swimming.

"I think I need to borrow Felix's glasses," I announce seriously. "Everything's all...wobbly."

"That's not how glasses work," he says dryly, but there's something almost fond in his tone.

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