Page 74 of Knotting With A Stranger

I’ve never seen James like this about a woman. Hook-ups, sure. Casual flings, plenty. But this vulnerability? Never.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives,” James says, looking between Archer and me. “You two are the only family I’ve got. So, I’m telling you both straight—she matters. This isn’t just about getting through her heat.”

Archer nods slowly. “Noted.”

I study James for a long moment. We’ve been through hell together, the three of us. Shared everything—pain, loss, triumph, women. This is different, though. This feels like a line being drawn. A look into the future, instead of just today.

“I hear you,” I say finally. “But remember—it’s her choice. All of this. Who she wants, how she wants it.”

“Of course,” James states immediately. “Always her choice.”

An understanding passes between us, unspoken but clear. We will all care for her during this heat, but what comes after—that’s for Lily to decide.

“All right, enough with the feelings,” Archer mutters, breaking the tension. “Let’s finish getting this shit together for our girl.”

Our girl.The phrase settles between us, and I like the sound of it.

We gather our supplies—the food tray, drinks, extra blankets, hot water bottles, pain medication—and head back toward the laundry room. Archer carries a stack of pillows, trailing behind me.

“Think this is enough for her nest until we move her upstairs?” he asks.

“She’ll rearrange everything anyway,” I reply, leading us down the hall. “Omegas always do.”

James follows with water bottles and a bottle of whiskey I hadn’t noticed him grab. “How did none of us notice she was approaching heat? We’re not exactly inexperienced.”

I pause, considering. “The storm. Barometric pressure changes can mask pheromones. Plus, she’s probably on suppressants that only just failed.”

“Or the alcohol last night accelerated things,” Archer suggests. “Wouldn’t be the first time tequila shots triggered an unexpected heat.”

As we approach the laundry room door, a sound from within stops us in our tracks. A low, pained moan filters through the door, followed by another that sounds more distressed.

All three of us freeze, exchanging alarmed looks.

The moans intensify, sounding like genuine discomfort or pain.

“Fuck, she’s hurting,” I say, setting down the tray so fast, items slide off it. I reach for the door handle, protective instincts overriding everything else.

“Wait—” James starts, grabbing for my arm, but I’m already shoving the door open.

The sight that greets us isn’t what I expected.

Lily isn’t writhing in pain. She’s awake, pressing my shirt to her face and inhaling deeply. Her body moves against another bunched piece of my clothing between her thighs, seeking friction. The sounds we heard weren’t pain at all—they were pleasure mixed with frustration.

She pauses at our entrance. For one suspended moment, we all stare at each other, the air electric with wanton desires and embarrassment.

Her face blushes, but she doesn’t move to cover herself or bolt from the nest she’s created. Instead, her eyes lock with mine, pupils wide, lips parting and glistening.

“Hunter,” she whispers, my name on her lips like a prayer—or a demand.

Behind me, I hear James exhale sharply. Archer mutters, “Holy fucking shit,” under his breath.

And I know, in that moment, that whatever happens next will change everything between all of us irrevocably. And I can’t wait!

18

LILY

My vision swims, the edges blurry and distorted like I’m underwater. The door to the room opens, flooding the space with light that hurts my eyes. Three tall silhouettes appear. For a moment, I wonder if I’m hallucinating—if the fever burning through my veins has finally pushed me over the edge into delirium.

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