Page 48 of Break Me Knot

Isurface slowly from the deepest sleep I've had in years, becoming aware of warmth, safety, and a steady heartbeat under my ear. For a moment, I'm disoriented. My body is heavy, relaxed in a way I can't remember experiencing. No nightmares. No terror. Just... rested.

Reality filters in gradually. I'm curled against Zane's chest, his arm protective around me. On the TV, a football game plays at low volume, different fromthe animated movie we started. How long have I been asleep? Hours, at least. Long enough for the movie to have played through.

He stayed while I slept. This powerful alpha sat here, holding me, guarding my sleep, for hours. He could have moved me, could have gone about his day... but he didn't.

He stayed holding me against him.

Heat floods my cheeks as I realize my hand is clutched in his shirt. I have to fight the urge to burrow closer when his scent engulfs me andtugs.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he murmurs, his chest rumbling under my cheek. His hand strokes gently down my spine and a small shiver works through my body.

“I'm sorry,” I manage, my voice rough with sleep. “I didn't mean to—”

“To get the rest you desperately needed?” His tone is light, but there is concern underneath. “To trust me enough to sleep? To let me hold you?”

His scent surrounds me, sinking into my very pores. It calls to something I never knew was inside me. Something that recognizes him as... as what? Safe? More than safe.

Like his scent was crafted specifically to complement mine, to soothe my jagged edges.

I shouldn't be this way. Shouldn't let myself rise to meet his alpha presence like a flower turning toward the sun. Alphas use their scent as tools of control. Scents are designed to make omegas submit, but Zane's scent doesn't demand submission. It offers comfort, protection, belonging.

The thought terrifies me even as my body melts further into his embrace. How can his scent affect me so strongly? Even during my heat, when biology demanded alpha contact, I've never felt this... this recognition. This infinite certainty that I'm exactly where I should be.

Adrian's scent affects me the same way, calling to distant parts of myself. Even Cole's leather and pine makes something in me keen with want, despite his rejection. It's like their scents were made for me, or mine for them, and I don’t understand.

The rich aroma of roast beef drifts into the room, garlic and herbs, caramelized onions, the deep smell of perfectly cooked meat. My stomach growls in an embarrassingly loud manner, betraying my hunger despite how much I've eaten today already. More food than I've had in months, really. I should be ashamed of my greed and learn to control these base needs better.

But Zane only smiles down at me… and,oh, his smile transforms his face. The sharp alpha features soften into something devastatingly beautiful, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He's handsome even when serious, but when he smiles, the sun comes out from behind clouds, warming everything it touches.

Including me.

Pain lances through my heart. I can't stay here, surrounded by their kindness, their gentle touches, their devastating smiles. I've already lingered too long, let myself grow too comfortable even though it’s barely a day out of my heat because…the longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave.

I have to leave sooner rather than later and…why is this a hard decision?

I need to disappear. These are the owners of Pinnacle Therapeutics and I know enough about Senator Hardwick to risk all of their lives.

“Adrian's been cooking all afternoon,” Zane says, his thumb still tracing gentle circles on my shoulder. The casual touch sends warmth through my tired muscles. “He stress-cooks when he's worried. You should see him during quarterly reviews. We end up with enough food to feed an army.”

Heat floods my cheeks. “He shouldn't... an alpha shouldn’t cook for an omega.” The words come out automatically, drilled into me by years of conditioning. 'An omega's purpose is to serve, not be served.'

Zane's hand stills. “Why not? Cole cooks. As do I. Well sometimes, but between Adrian and Cole it's hard to get into the kitchen. Besides, they cook so well and I’ve been known to burn water.”

I ignore his adorable rambling.

“It's not... it's not proper.” I swallow hard, remembering endless lectures about omega submission, about natural order, about staying in our place. “Omegas serve alphas, not the other way around.”

“You just had your heat. It's our privilege to care for our omega after…”

My heart races at the possessive term. I'm nottheiromega. I'm notanyone'somega. I can't be. Being an omega, being claimed, being owned, is too dangerous. Care will turn into control. Privilege will become possession. Gentle touches will transform into restraints. Kindness—this kindness—is the first step toward ownership.

The urge to leave claws at my chest. I've stayed too long, let them be too kind. I fell asleep on the couch in Zane’s arms, for God’s sake.

“What's wrong?” Zane’s arm tightens around me, protective rather than possessive, and that somehow makes it worse. “Your scent just—”

“Nothing.” I force a smile, though it feels brittle. My hands tremble slightly, and I clench them in my lap. “Just hungry, I guess.”

He doesn't believe me. I can see it in his eyes, but he doesn't push, doesn't demand answers. Doesn't use his alpha authority to force the truth from me.

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