Page 47 of Break Me Knot

ZANE: Another nightmare starting.

I gather her closer, letting my scent wrap around her. The way she burrows into my chest, seeking comfort in sleep, breaks my heart. An omega needs physical contact like they need air. Going without is systematic torture for their nature. If her logical brain doesn't recognize us as mates, her subconscious certainly must.

COLE: How bad is it?

ZANE: I think she’s…touch-starved. She responds to every casual touch like she's dying of thirst and someone's offering water. Then immediately tenses like she expects it to be taken away.

ADRIAN: No wonder she has serious health issues. Especially combined with malnutrition and exhaustion.

Our omega needs to get well. She needs to be pampered. She needs to understand what it is to be an omega.

What it is to be loved.

I check Mira's face, now peaceful in sleep, before typing. I’m concerned about the dark circles under her eyes against her too-pale skin. She puts her nose against the scent gland in my neck and inhales. Her breath tickles my skin, but I don’t move. She’s scenting me in her sleep. Something she’s never done in a conscious way. She also had no reaction when Adrian told her we were mates. My fingers hover over the phone as the implications hit me. Every omega knows their true mates by scent. It's instinctual, biological. Unless…

ZANE: What if she doesn't know what we are to her? Likereallydoesn’t know.

ADRIAN: Explain.

ZANE: She's been on suppressants so long, denying her omega nature. What if her instincts are too suppressed to recognize us as her mates?

The thought makes my chest ache. Years of chemical suppression may very well have muted her ability to recognize what we are to each other, added to years of fighting her omega nature.

COLE: It makes sense. Her recognition response could be way off.

ADRIAN: We need her story. To understand what we're dealing with. And I swear to the Gods, I'm going to get Hardwick to change this legislation if it kills me. Plus, we need to find that leak at Pinnacle. Black market suppressants come from somewhere, and it starts with us.

ZANE: Meanwhile, I plan to spoil her until she can't help but fall for us, mates or not.

I’ll pull everything in my arsenal because, as much as I hate to admit, she’s a flight risk. I want her to be ours so badly it hurts. Want to see her healthy, happy, cherished. Want to watch her bloom under our care, see her cheeks fill out, her eyes lose that haunted look. Want to hear her laugh without fear.

Movement catches my eye. Cole stands in the doorway, watching her sleep. The longing on his face is raw and painful to witness. For a moment, I see everything he desires but thinks he can't have. His hands clench at his sides, his scent thick with need and grief and want.

Then his walls slam back up, his expression hardening as his gaze finds mine, and he stalks away, leaving only his scent of leather and pine, tinged with pain and longing.

ZANE: He was just here. Watching her.

ADRIAN: Progress. Small steps.

COLE: I can still read the chat, you know.

ZANE: Good. Then read this: She needs all of us, brother. Even the broken parts. If anyone will understand, it’s her.

The silence that follows speaks volumes. I look down at Mira, still sleeping trustingly against me despite everything she's survived. Maybe that's the lesson here… broken things can still trust, still love, still heal.

If we're patient enough.

If we're gentle enough.

If we can convince her to stay long enough to let us help.

My phone screen dims as I set it aside, focusing instead on the precious weight in my arms. One step at a time. One touch, one meal, one moment of trust.

We'll bring our omega home to herself, and to us.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mira

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