Page 184 of Hard Knot

The warmth spreading through my body is different now—not just the uncomfortable heat from before, but something deeper, more primal. My Omega instincts are screaming at me to submit, to let go, to trust.

And that's what terrifies me most.

"This isn't happening," I whisper, memories of my last Heat threatening to surface. "This can't be happening."

"It is," he says simply, but his hands gentle on my hips, grounding rather than restraining. "But you're safe. I've got you."

The words sink into me, calming some of the panic even as the Heat continues to build.

"Why aren't you stopping this?" I ask, my voice barely audible over the hum of the airplane engines.

His response is to lean closer, his breath mingling with mine.

"Because this time, you trust me. And I'll be damned if I let you face this alone."

The truth of his words hits me harder than any kiss. We've come so far from that initial hatred, from the days of being cats and dogs at each other's throats. I'm not just a Forgotten Omega anymore, and he's not just the untouchable Alpha who saw me as a complication.

"You're going to regret this," I warn, but there's no real conviction in my voice.

His lips trail down my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there in a way that makes me shiver.

"The only thing I'd regret," he murmurs against my throat, "is not meeting you earlier all those fucking years ago so you’d never had suffered through this alone."

His words send a fresh wave of heat through me, and this time I don't fight the way my body responds. My scent grows stronger, sweeter, filling the tiny space with unmistakable pheromones of Heat.

His own scent spikes in response, but it's not just dominance now—there's protection there, possession mixed with something that feels dangerously close to love.

"Stop thinking so much," he whispers, his hands sliding under my shirt to find bare skin. "Let me take care of you."

I'm about to respond when a sharp knock on the door jolts us both.

"Is everything alright in there?" a flight attendant calls, her tone more suspicious than concerned.

I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp, my wide eyes meeting Holmes's. His lips are swollen from our kisses, his visible eye dark with desire, but there's also amusement dancing there.

This isn't how I expected this flight to go—trapped in a tiny bathroom with an Alpha who's become so much more than an enemy, trying not to completely unravel while his pack mates sit obliviously nearby.

Holmes smirks, leaning close enough for his lips to brush my ear.

"We're not done, Abercrombie," he promises, his voice rough with need. "But this time, we're doing this right."

And despite everything—the fear, the memories, the uncertainty—I believe him.

“Sir? Is everything alright in there?” The voice of the flight attendant echoes again; muffled but clear, tinged with polite concern.

Holmes stiffens, his gaze flicking to mine, and I can see the gears turning in his head. Then, with a sigh that carries a hint of exasperation, he responds, his voice as smooth and deadpan as ever:

“Yes, I’m fine. Just give me a minute,” he calls out, pausing for effect. “My cock’s malfunctioning from the high altitude.”

The silence that follows is almost deafening. My lips press tightly together, my body trembling as I fight the urge to laugh. Holmes doesn’t even flinch, his expression utterly serious as though he’s just delivered the most mundane excuse in the world.

The sound of footsteps retreating down the aisle signals the flight attendant’s exit, and that’s all it takes for the laugh bubbling in my chest to break free.

“You didnotjust say that,” I whisper, shaking my head in disbelief, though the corners of my mouth tug upward despite myself.

Holmes tilts his head, his lips quirking into a sly smile.

“What? It’s true.”

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