Page 51 of Knotting With A Stranger

“Are you into treasure hunting, Lily?” Hunter asks. He reaches for my now-empty mug, and our fingers brush as I hand it to him. The simple contact sends a rush of heat through my body that has nothing to do with the fire or the hot chocolate.

Hunter’s laugh is low and smooth as he notices my reaction. “Your face is flushed. Is the fire too warm for you?”

I shake my head, not trusting my voice.

“She’s a natural,” Archer says, striding closer. “Sharp eye for detail. She’d make a perfect member.” The way he looks at me leaves me feeling like I’m the treasure they’re seeking.

“So, what exactly are you boys looking for?” I ask. “Gold? Jewels? The lost ark?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.” Archer leans against the desk, arms crossed. “The legends vary. I’m hoping for knowledge. Ancient texts, maybe. Something that explains the history of this region better than our current records.”

James scoffs. “Always the scholar.” He tilts his head, studying me with those penetrating eyes. “I’m in it for the thrill of the hunt. The prize is secondary.”

Somehow, I don’t believe him, but maybe I’m just being paranoid, seeing he lied to me all those weeks we chatted, grew closer, and me grasping onto every message he sent me. Do Hunter and Archer even know about our conversations? That we’ve spoken more than they realize? From their relaxed postures, I’d guess not.

“What about you, Lily?” Archer asks. “If you could find any treasure, what would you hope it to be?”

I consider this for a long pause. “Truth of why they needed to bury a treasure,” I say finally, looking directly at James. “I’ve always valued truth above all else.”

Something flickers across his face before his mask of casual arrogance returns.

“Truth can be the most dangerous treasure of all,” he says quietly.

Hunter’s eyebrows draw together. “Getting philosophical on us, James?”

“Just stating facts,” James replies.

The room feels smaller, the air thicker. My skin prickles with awareness as the three of them seem to form a loose circle around me—Hunter to my left, Archer directly across, James lounging by the fire yet somehow dominating the space.

“Are you okay?” Hunter asks, brow furrowed. “You look... hot.”

“I’m fine,” I insist, though I’m anything but. Every nerve ending in my body feels like a live wire. “When will this storm let up, right?”

Archer glances toward the window, though all we can see is the white snow pelting the glass. “Forecast says most of the week.”

A week.A week trapped in this house with these three men whose mere presence seems to be triggering something primal in me. My mother’s words echo in my mind—her careful explanations about Omega biology, about how some Alphas could trigger stronger reactions than others, especially during times of stress or isolation.

“Cabin fever setting in already, Lily?” James asks with a rumble. “It’s only day two.”

I force myself to meet his gaze steadily. “I’m simply concerned about work. Some of us have responsibilities.”

“Weallhave responsibilities,” Hunter says seriously. “Mine are just on hold until this storm passes. Or if I get called in for an emergency search and rescue task,” he explains, and I notice how his posture straightens slightly with pride.

“That’s impressive,” I say, remembering the well-stocked meat freezer I’d glimpsed earlier. “I saw the game in your basement freezer. You hunt well, too.”

“I do.” A hint of that dimple appears in his chin as he nods. “Tracking comes naturally to me, animals or people.” There’s something in the way he says it, a predatory edge beneath the matter-of-fact statement, that sends a shiver down my spine. “My grandfather taught me to track and hunt before I could even read. Said it was more important to know how to find your way and feed yourself than to know your ABCs.”

“Priorities,” I murmur, smiling despite myself.

“He was right, though,” Hunter continues, his attention holding mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “I’veused those skills more often than anything I learned in school. When you’re tracking, you have to notice everything—disturbed soil, broken twigs, the way animals go quiet when a stranger passes. It’s all about paying attention to what most people miss.”

The way he says it makes me wonder if he’s tracking me now, noticing every quickened breath, every flush of my skin, every involuntary reaction to his presence.

“So, what’s your theory?” I ask, gesturing to the map and trying to redirect. “You have half a map to a treasure you can’t identify. What’s the plan once the weather clears?”

The three exchange glances, a silent communication passing between them that speaks of years of friendship.

“The other half of the map was given to my cousin Travis in my grandfather’s will, so I’ll first try to get him to give me his half," Hunter explains, his jaw tightening slightly. He glances at me momentarily. “After our parents died, Grandpa took me in, but Travis got shipped off to his mother's family. Nasty people who didn’t treat him right, from what I heard. Travis has held a grudge against me ever since, convinced I somehow stole his place." He shakes his head, his brow pinching with frustration. "The bastard even resented when Grandpa took in James and Archer years later—as if that was another personal slight against him. Didn't even visit Grandpa in his final five years, even knowing how sick he was getting.”

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