Page 36 of Knotting With A Stranger

I dig the mace out of my wet clothes and slip it into the pocket of my borrowed leggings. Not that I really think I’ll need it—something about these men, about this place, feels safe. Maybe too safe. That’s what scares me most—not that they might hurt me, but that I might not want to leave.

Thor’s sitting exactly where I left him when I peek out the door, his tail thumping against the hardwood. “Still on guard duty?” I rub under his chin, and he leans into my touch with a contented grumble. “At least one male in this house is straightforward about his intentions.”

My stomach growls at the smell of something delicious and savory wafting up the stairs. Whatever Archer’s cooking, it smells divine. Thor’s ears perk up, and I laugh.

“Yeah, I’m hungry, too. Might as well face the music, right?” I take one last look in the mirror, adjusting the sweater. “What’s the worst that could happen?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.Never tempt fate, Lily.Especially not when you’re already living in what feels like the setup to either a horror movie or an adult film. My skin crawls, but I shake it off. I’m not going to scare myself.

I hear the guys speaking as I approach the kitchen—deeper than before, a new voice in the mix. It sends something dangerous sliding down my spine. My heart stutters, but I force myself to call out, “Hello?” Better than lurking in doorways like some sort of creeper.

The conversation stops. I step into the kitchen and freeze, my breath catching in my throat.

Wait!

There’s a third Alpha now? And God, he’s... magnificent. That’s the only word for it. He’s perched casually on the counter, one leg dangling, the other bent at the knee. His dark copper hair is slightly messy, probably from the storm, and his storm-gray eyes fix on me with an intensity that sends my heartinto a pounding race. He’s dressed simply—dark jeans and a charcoal Henley that does nothing to hide his broad shoulders. But there’s nothing simple about the way he carries himself, the quiet confidence that screams predator.

A burn scar traces up his left forearm, visible where he’s pushed up his sleeves.

Everything about him radiates controlled power, like a knife wrapped in silk. The kind of man my father always warned me about. The kind that makes all those warnings seem worth ignoring.

“This is James.” Hunter catches my hesitation. “He’s always here, like Archer. We practically grew up in this cabin.” He’s leaning against the fridge, beer in hand, completely at ease. The three of them look like a pack, I realize. A dangerous, beautiful pack that I’ve somehow stumbled into.

James?

My mind stutters on the name. Not my James—not the guy I’ve been messaging since way before Christmas, the one whose texts make me smile at my phone like an idiot. Then he vanished, and I discovered he might be in prison. Nope, that can’t be him. What are the chances? This has to be a coincidence. Yet something about him calls to me.

I never actually spoke to James, only messaged each other, so I can’t even say I’d recognize his voice. But this James... God, his tone alone could make me come apart at the seams if he whispered in my ear. Deep and rich, with just enough gravel to make my stomach flip.

I mentally shake myself. Control yourself. But it’s hard when I’m surrounded by three gorgeous men who radiate Alpha energy as though it’s their personal brand. And this isn’t that James anyway, so I need to chill.

“Welcome to the madhouse,” James says, and his voice is pure sin, leaving my skin tingling. He runs a hand throughhis hair, dislodging snow crystals. “Barely made it through the storm to get here. It’s the apocalypse out there.”

“Dramatic as always,” Hunter snorts, but there’s obvious affection in his tone. He moves to clap James on the shoulder. “She doesn’t need you scaring her with your apocalypse theories.”

“Hey, I calls it like I sees it.” James hops down from the counter with a grace that shouldn’t be possible for someone his size. He’s taller than the other two, practically built like a football player. “And what I see out there ain’t natural.”

“Nothing about this weather is natural,” Archer adds from the stove, where he’s stirring something that smells like heaven. “But that’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now...” He tastes whatever’s in the pot and nods. “Dinner’s ready.”

The three of them together are fascinating to watch. Hunter grabs bowls while James snags the silverware, setting them on the counter all in one place. Archer’s swatting at both of them when they try to steal tastes of the food. It’s clear this is their space, their sanctuary. And I’m the intruder.

I lean against the counter, suddenly hyperaware of my position—alone in a remote cabin with three strange men. My rational mind whispers warnings, but my body betrays me with a current of electricity that zips through my veins whenever their gazes find mine.

“So, what brings you out in weather like this?” James asks. His attention locks onto me, and the intensity in them—a mixture of curiosity and something deeper—sends a ripple of sensation across my skin, like fingers trailing down my spine.

“Flour run,” I admit, aiming for casual while my pulse hammers wildly at the base of my throat. “For the bakery I run with my sister.”

“A baker, huh?” James’s mouth curves into a half-smile that awakens butterflies in my stomach. “In Whispering Grove?”

I tilt my head, surprise momentarily overriding the warmth spreading through my chest. “You know the town?”

“I get around,” he says vaguely, something guarded flickering behind his eyes. “Small towns have the best... stories.”

“And the best gossip,” Archer adds, sliding a steaming pan onto the table. “James is our resident mystery man. Gets twitchy if you ask too many personal questions.”

“Fuck that,” James protests, with an undercurrent of tension in his words.

“You absolutely do,” Hunter jumps in, a playful gleam in his eye. “Remember when that hiker asked where you were from, and you just stared at her until she backed away?”

“I was thinking!”

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