Page 63 of Knot Just A Fan

I nod. “Yeah, the wedding is the day after tomorrow, and he’ll meet us in Paris Monday late morning for the gig there.”

Briella turns to me and takes my hand again. I switch the glass to my other hand. “What if I crashed the wedding?

“What? To talk to him? He’d hate that.”

Briella shrugs. “He already hates me. He can keep on doing so. But it would give me a chance to talk to him, away from you and Enzo and Ash. And Cami. No one but me and him. Nowhere to run. To prove I’m not a monster just here to gobble you up.” She gives a crooked smile but the seriousness flashes in her eyes.

“You going to seduce him?“ I grin, sliding my hands up her sides and pressing my palms to her breasts. Her nipples harden right back up under them and she nuzzles against me, then lowers a hand to my cock. God, the smell of her slick, of her skin, I could go again right now.

But I have to concentrate. We have all the time in the world.

What we don’t have is a unified pack.

I bite my lip, my hand cupping her breast through her top. I lean in and kiss her, tasting her, telling myself that her seducing Ronan wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. But I know that’s not what she means.

“Let me talk to Ash,” she says. Her confidence, even when unsure. Her devotion to action, even when she feels powerless. The little things I loved about her from the start. My heart swells with emotions I can’t name. I’ve given so much to have Willow with us. But I never knew how easy it could be, when the Omega is your match. When she knows it too. Why did I fight this so long?

“If anyone can soften him, it’s you. Not me. All I’ve done is push him away from the friend he was from the start to a shadow on the side who seems to resent my every word.”

She tilts her head. She takes my hand and brings it to her lips. They’re so full, so soft. And the taste of raspberries on them must be some lipgloss or something but I will sleep tonight with that flavor and her jasmine scent in my head.

“I don’t want you at odds with a friend you’ve had way longer than you’ve known me—over me.”

Faraway look. She brushes her lips against mine.

“How long was your heat last time?”

“Three days.”

“Come to my room tonight?” I ask.

She throws a glance toward the back of the beach. I can make out the top of Ash’s head over there, bent down in conversation beneath a tiki torch.

Briella smirks. “Or you might come to mine. I have a sneaking suspicion about those two.”

I raise a brow. “Ash? No shitting way.” But a grin creeps across my face. Reluctantly I turn to the deck and raise the headphones back to my ears. I really need to get back to keeping this gig interesting, although from the looks of the crowd, they’re so high on the setting sun across the sea and the alcohol and the ambience that they probably wouldn’t care if I played the same song on repeat all night.

Briella makes her way to my side, watching with interest. My laptop’s playing a neo-jazz tune with a female vocalist that I just discovered last night, and had to throw it into the mix. I flick the output switch from my laptop to the deck, and set up two tracks. As Track A starts, I switch over to B. Once it’s good to go, I pull my cans back around my neck and turn to her.

She raises her hands in a shrug. “I could be wrong, but they are awfully gracious and polite with one another today.”

“Huh.” Then I smile and kiss her cheek. “Go have fun. I’m done at 1. I’ll text you. Enjoy the mix. I’ll put in one just for you.”

“Really? What?—”

“You’ll know it when you hear it.”

She smiles. “Ash arranged a return train to Nice and we fly out tomorrow evening.”

“What time’s your train?” I ask.

A sigh. “10:30.”

“I don’t want you on your own while you’re still in heat.”

“I’ve learned one thing,” she says. “My heat comes at the shittiest possible times.”

She watches me match the beats then fade in track B and listen a few seconds until I’m satisfied. “I’ll come with you,” I blurt.

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