Page 83 of Knot Only His

The realization hits Colton like she just punched his stomach and he stumbles back, his face draining of color. “You’re not... we’re not...”

“No,” Harlow whispers. “We’re not scent matches.”

Colton’s shoulders slump. His voice breaks. “I thought you’d smell me the same. When you were fourteen, I caught your scent, and I was so sure it was vanilla...” He runs a hand throughhis hair. “Then it disappeared, and I convinced myself it didn’t matter because I loved you, anyway.”

My heart clenches for him, despite everything.

Damn, I must be getting soft.

The door swings open, and the scent of coffeefills the room, overtaking the multitude of scents in the room.

Harlow’s sister, Bardot walks in.

Every alpha in the room turns to look at her, including me, and my breath catches. She’s not mine, but she is Harlow’s mirror image, and at the same time different—wilder, less controlled—platinum blonde hair instead of dark brown, but those same beautiful eyes.

Their mother follows close behind as Bardot approaches the bed. She hands Harlow a coffee. “How are you feeling, sis? An omega, eh!”

Harlow’s eyes sweep across the room, taking in each of us. Taking her alphas in, though none of us have claimed her yet or even told her she is ours.

But she knows.

And we’re all here, all wanting her, all holding back.

“I’m fine now,” she says. “I feel good. The same, but...different.”

Harlow’s eyes meet mine, her smile soft and genuine and my stomach does a backflip. I have to fight to keep my composure.

She gives that same smile to Asher, who straightens his spine, then to Parker, whose usual stern expression melts. Even Carver’s possessive stance relaxes under her gaze.

But it’s when she spots Jagger peeking out from behind Parker’s legs that her whole face lights up.

“There you are. I hoped you’d come to see me.”

“You did?” Jagger’s small voice pipes up as he inches forward.

“Of course.”

“Can I sit next to you?”

She pats the hospital bed. “Come here.”

Jagger scrambles up, and Harlow plants a kiss on his head. The kid beams like he’s just won the Stanley Cup, and I can’t help but notice how each of us—her alphas—mirror that same joy.

Bardot perches on the other side of the bed, grabbing her sister’s hand. “God, I’ve missed you so much. When are you coming home?”

“I like it here,” Harlow whispers.

“You’re staying?” Bardot’s voice hitches as she looks at Carver and then me, Oliver and Asher. “Oh. At least you won’t steal my clothes now?”

“Have you seen your outfits?” Harlow laughs, but there are tears in her eyes.

“Bitch,” Bardot whispers, pulling her into a hug.

Their mother steps closer, and Harlow’s composure crumbles completely. “Mom—”

“I’ve got you, baby.” Her mother wraps her arms around both daughters. “And I’m so sorry about what I had to do.”

“We haven’t told her everything yet,” Carver interrupts, his voice tight. “About what you told me.”

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