Page 142 of Knot Like Other Girls

When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his chin, breathing him in. His stony scent wraps around me, as comforting as his arms are.

"I should go get dressed," I say, though I make no move to leave.

His arms tighten fractionally around me. "Probably."

But neither of us moves. For just a moment longer, we stand there in the kitchen, holding each other in the soft morning light. Outside, a bird calls across the lake, its song clear and sweet in the crisp mountain air.

"Bella?" Cole's voice is quiet, almost hesitant.

I look up at him. "Yes?"

For a moment, he seems to struggle with what he wants to say, his brow furrowing slightly. Then he simply shakes his head and presses another kiss to my forehead.

"Nothing. Just... thank you."

I smile, understanding all the things he isn't saying. With Cole, the silences matter as much as the words.

I give him one last squeeze before reluctantly stepping back. "See you in a few minutes?"

He nods, and as I turn to leave, I catch the hint of a genuine smile on his face. His expression is lighter, softer, less burdened than I've ever seen it.

And somehow, I know that today is going to be a good day.

CHAPTER 40

ROMAN

Ilean against the kitchen counter, listening to Troy tell yet another improbable story about his days at boarding school. Something about smuggling in a python that later escaped in the headmaster's office. My packmates are scattered around the kitchen in various states of readiness for our trip into town, their laughter and banter providing a comfortable background hum that feels like home.

"Bullshit," Liam interrupts. "No fucking way they let you back after that."

Troy grins, unrepentant. "Dad made a sizable donation to the science department. Suddenly it was a 'valuable learning experience' instead of grounds for expulsion."

I shake my head, hiding my amusement behind my coffee mug. The coffee is strong, dark—Cole's special blend that he guards more carefully than some of our weapons. There's something about watching my pack like this, relaxed and at ease in our home, that settles me.

"You're terribly quiet this morning, Roman," Savva observes, his calculating gaze fixed on me. Nothing escapes Savva. It's what makes him both invaluable as a packmate—and occasionally irritating as hell.

I shrug one shoulder. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous pastime," Troy quips, earning himself an eye roll from Cole.

"Someone in this pack has to do it," I return, my voice dry. "God knows it's not you."

Troy clutches his chest in mock offense while Liam barks out a laugh.

The truth is more complicated than I'm willing to share. My thoughts are circling around the omega getting dressed down the hall.

Bella.

Our scent match.

The reality of it still hasn't fully settled into my bones—that after years of believing I'd never find a mate, the universe dropped the most perfect omega on the planet into my lap. Into all our laps.

And now she's going into heat. The faint traces of it are already in the air, subtle but unmistakable. Sweet without being cloying, warm without being overwhelming. It calls to something primal in me, something basal I've spent years learning to control.

"We should discuss how we're handling today," I say, setting my mug down with a decisive click. "With Bella's heat starting."

The atmosphere in the kitchen shifts immediately. Shoulders straighten, expressions sharpen. We may be off-duty, but we have all the same instincts that have kept us alive in war zones.

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