Page 111 of Knot Like Other Girls

"They're coming," Roman says suddenly, his head lifting like a predator catching a scent.

And just like that, every one of us goes still. Alpha instincts on high alert, bodies braced for fight or flight, though there's nothing to fight and nowhere to flee. Just the impending reality of facing our omega and our packmate after they've spent the night together.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway has me gripping the edge of the counter hard enough to leave fingerprints in the marble. Breathe, I remind myself, recalling those meditation techniques Savva tried to teach me that I usually ignore.

When they finally appear in the doorway, the sight hits me with physical force.

Bella stands there in Cole's oversized shirt that drapes to mid-thigh. Her hair is damp and tousled, her skin practically glowing, her green eyes bright with a contentment I've never seen in them before. Cole towers behind her, one hand resting lightly at the small of her back, the gesture unmistakably protective.

And their scents…

Even with powerful blockers, there's no missing it. They're covered in each other's essence, the notes blended in that unmistakable way after a night spent wrapped around each other.

Okay. Maybe I am a little jealous.

"Good morning," Bella says, a slight blush coloring her cheeks as she takes in our frozen expressions.

My humor defense kicks in first, years of using it as a shield taking over. "Morning, sunshine. Hope you brought your appetite. I've been stress cooking since dawn."

Her smile widens, some of the stiffness leaving her shoulders. "It smells amazing, Troy."

I grin like a dumbass. "Thanks."

Cole hovers protectively as Bella moves toward the island, his mismatched eyes scanning each of us like he's assessing threats. The rational part of me knows he's just being cautious—this whole situation is new territory for all of us—but the alpha in me bristles slightly at the implication.

Roman, ever the peacekeeper, steps forward. "You both look well-rested," he says, voice carefully neutral as he pulls out a stool for Bella.

I catch the flash of amusement in her eyes at his diplomatic phrasing. She knows exactly what we're all thinking, what we all heard last night through these ridiculously thin walls of Braxley's designer penthouse. But she accepts the seat with grace, murmuring a quiet "thank you" that somehow feels more intimate than it should.

"Coffee?" The pot tilts toward a fresh mug before she can answer.

"Please," she says, then hesitates. "Actually, maybe tea instead? I'm still feeling a little... warm."

And that's when I notice it. The subtle flush to her skin that has nothing to do with embarrassment, the slight dilation of her pupils, the way she shifts in her seat like she can't get comfortable. The suppressants are starting to wear off. Not drastically, not yet, but enough that every alpha in the room can sense it.

Just taking one alpha's knot won't be enough. Not unless she wants to load up on meds that might make her feel even worse.

Savva smoothly takes over, preparing her tea with the same precision he applies to everything. "Chamomile," he says, placing the cup in front of her. "It should help stabilize your temperature."

"Thanks," she murmurs, wrapping her hands around the mug like she's trying to ground herself.

Cole settles into the seat beside her, close enough that their shoulders touch. Good. He hasn't gone back to being closed off in his emotional fortress, then.

"Pancakes?" A stack slides onto a plate. "They're cinnamon. My specialty."

"They smell incredible," Bella says, her genuine appreciation warming part of me that has nothing to do with alpha instincts and everything to do with the simple pleasure of feeding someone I care about.

For a few blessed minutes, we fall into an almost normal rhythm. Plates are passed, coffee is poured, food is served. The conversation stays light—comments about the weather, compliments on the food, gentle teasing that skirts around the elephant in the room without directly acknowledging it.

It's Liam who eventually breaks the fragile peace, his voice rough as he addresses Bella directly. "How are you feeling this morning, lass? Truly?"

The question is loaded, but Bella doesn't shy away from it, meeting his gaze steadily as she sets down her fork. "I'm okay," she says easily. "Better than okay, actually. For the first time in a long time, I feel... real."

The simple honesty of her answer bleeds some of the tension out of the air. A knot I didn't know I was carrying loosens in my chest.

"Good," I say, meaning it. "That's really good, Bella."

She smiles at me, a genuine smile that reaches her eyes, and suddenly I don't care at all that she chose Cole first. I'm just grateful she's here, that she's happy, that she's looking at all of us like we're valuable instead of dangerous.

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