Page 41 of Knot My Luck

I cling to him for half a second too long before I force myself to step away.

My breathing is ragged, my bodyburning, the heat already building to something I won’t be able to fight for long.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. “We need to get inside.”

Cathal watches me, his jaw tight, his eyes full of something I can’t decipher.

But he doesn’t argue.

He just nods. And follows me inside.

When we reach the suite, Cathal lingers at the door, shifting awkwardly. His shoulders are tense, his hands flexing at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to reach for me. Good. Let him feel what I’ve felt for years. Let himache.

“I guess this is goodnight,” he mutters, but there’s hesitation in his voice, like he’s hoping I’ll tell him otherwise.

And fuck, a part of me wants to.

A deep, instinctual part of me that still needs him, still knows he’s mine.

My omega ispacing, restless and agitated, clawing at my ribs, furious that I’m keeping him at arm’s length. Shewantshim inside. Shewantsto be knotted full of him, to have all three of them surrounding her,claimingher.

I shove that thought down, ignoring the sharp pull in my chest.

I tilt my head, considering him. Then, before he can turn away, I say, “Stay.”

His whole body stills, his eyes snapping to mine,hopeflashing through them so fast it’s almost painful to witness. His lips part, breath hitching?—

“In the lounge,” I add, cutting him off before he can say anything stupid. “You can listen.”

His mouth snaps shut, his expression darkening with something sharp and frustrated.

From inside the suite, Lorcan and Tadhg’s laughter rumbles through the door. “Cruel, a stór,” Lorcan teases.

Tadhg chuckles. “Absolutely brutal, Cloverheart.”

I flick my hair over my shoulder, meeting Cathal’s heated stare, fully aware that I’m playing with fire.Let him burn.

“He deserves it,” I say simply.

Cathal swallows hard, his jaw working. But instead of snapping back, instead of pushing, henods.

“I do, mo féileacán,” he confesses, voice rough with something deeper than frustration. “Hit me with everything you’ve got. I’m ready to burn for you, Embers.”

Fuck.

The way he says it – low and reverent, like I’m something holy – sends a full-body shiver down my spine.

My omega rages, pressing against my skin, demanding I let him in. She does not approve of this plan.Fix it, she snarls.Fix it now.

But I don’t.

Because the Devlin who got left behind in Cork, the Devlin who spentyearswondering what she did wrong, who she wasn’tenoughfor—she refuses to break so easily.

I steel myself, forcing a smirk I don’t quite feel. “Then enjoy the show.”

His nostrils flare, his whole body goingtight, but he doesn’t argue. Just gives me a slow, deliberate nod, like he’s accepting a challenge.

Satisfied – or at least pretending to be – I push open the door, stepping inside.

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