Page 110 of Knot Like Other Girls

The pancake bubbles, ready to flip. I slide the spatula underneath, revealing a perfect golden-brown surface. At least I can control this. Can't control much else lately.

Liam barrels in next, looking like he fought his demons all night. His massive frame fills the kitchen as he beelines for the coffee.

"Morning, sunshine," I say cheerfully, just to watch him scowl.

"Fuck off," he grumbles, no heat behind it. He downs half his coffee in one go. "Didn't sleep for shite."

"None of us did." I flip another pancake. "Hard to sleep when?—"

"When our omega is getting knotted by Cole down the hall?" Liam finishes bluntly. "That'll keep a man awake."

I wince at his phrasing but can't argue. "At least they found some happiness, yeah?"

Liam's expression softens slightly. "Mm. And Cole deserves it more than most." He peers over my shoulder at the growing stack. "Need help with anything?"

"Fruit's already cut. Bacon's in the oven. Maybe set the table?" I suggest, grateful for the distraction.

Savva glides in next, looking irritatingly put-together despite the sleepless night. His long auburn hair tied back neatly, already dressed in dark jeans and a fitted henley. Only the slight darkness under his eyes betrays his exhaustion.

"Morning," he says, voice neutral as ever.

A coffee mug slides his way without comment, knowing he'll appreciate caffeine more than conversation this early. Savva nods in thanks, moving to help Liam with the table. They work in silence, a practiced dance from years of shared space.

By the time Roman returns, I've laid out a feast. A stack of cinnamon pancakes, crispy bacon, fresh fruit, and enough coffee to fuel a small army. Or five sleep-deprived alphas, which demands roughly the same amount of caffeine.

"Any sign of them?" I ask as Roman sits at the island.

He shakes his head. "They'll come out when they're ready."

The unsaid hangs in the air. None of us mentions that we can all smell them—Bella's sweet omega scent kicked up by her partial heat, mixed with Cole's pine and stone. The combination hits hard, even through closed doors, even with the scent blockers we're all wearing.

The final pancake joins the already impressive stack as I survey my handiwork with satisfaction. Not bad for a guy running on zero sleep and enough alpha hormones to power through a crisis.

"Think you made enough?" Liam asks, eyeing the spread as he sets down the last plate.

"For five alphas and an omega coming off her first night with one of us?" A chuckle escapes me, though it sounds strained even to my ears. "This might be a light snack."

Roman shoots me a look that clearly says behave, but I catch the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Even our fearless leader isn't immune to the current flowing through the penthouse this morning.

"You're thinking too loud," Savva murmurs, appearing at my elbow with that freaky stealth of his.

"Yeah, well, not all of us can be zen masters." I slide a plate of bacon his way. "Some of us are just mere mortals with actual feelings."

His eyebrow arches slightly. "And you believe I don't have feelings about this situation?"

That pulls me up short. Savva's always been the most controlled of us, emotions locked down tighter than a military installation. But there's something in his eyes now—a flash of vulnerability so brief I almost think I imagined it.

"Sorry," I mutter, feeling like an ass. "Of course you do. We all do."

He accepts my apology with a slight nod, moving to refill his coffee cup. That's the thing about our pack—we don't need long, drawn-out conversations to understand each other. Years of having each other's backs through hell and worse forges a connection that goes beyond words.

Liam stands by the window, staring out at the LA skyline like it might hold answers to questions none of us want to ask. His massive frame is wound up, evident in the rigid set of his shoulders and the restless movement of his hands. The tattoos on his arms seem to shift with each motion, almost alive in the morning light.

"You good?" I ask, knowing full well he's not.

"Peachy," he grunts, not bothering to turn. "Just grand."

No point pushing. We're all barely holding it together, walking the edge between happiness for Cole and Bella and our own primal instincts screaming at us to claim what's ours. Because that's the ugly truth, isn't it? As much as we want to be evolved and respectful, there's a part of every alpha—even in a bonded pack like ours—that's possessive as hell.

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