Page 109 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

He kneels again, opening the kit with steady hands. “This might sting,” he warns softly, reaching for an antiseptic wipe.

I nod, watching his face as he works. The careful concentration in his expression. The way he keeps his breathing even, controlled. But I see other things too—the shadows under his eyes that seem deeper than before. The slight downturn of his mouth when he thinks I’m not looking. The way his hands linger just a fraction too long sometimes, like he’s fighting some instinct to touch more, to comfort.

“Almost done,” he murmurs, wrapping gauze around my left foot. His fingers brush my ankle and I feel it like an electric shock, that same heat flaring under my skin. His nostrils flare slightly and I know he can smell it—whatever it is that keeps happening to my body whenever he’s close.

But unlike before, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Doesn’t react beyond a slight tightening of his jaw as he finishes the bandage and moves to my other foot.

The silence stretches between us, heavy with all the things we’re not saying. All the questions I want to ask but don’t know how to voice. Why did you kiss me back? Why are you pulling away now? What happened while I was in the bath to change everything? Most of all, I need to apologize. For what I did.

When I’d decided to return, I hadn’t considered he might not have wanted me to. I want to open my mouth and say all this. But I can’t. Too afraid to speak about it.

Instead, I watch him work, trying to memorize the gentle pressof his fingers, the careful way he handles my injuries. Because something tells me this might be the last time he gets this close.

When he finishes with the second foot, he sits back on his heels, still not quite meeting my eyes. “They shouldn’t take too long to heal. But the cuts will be extra sensitive. Especially since you’re an omega.” His voice catches slightly on the word ‘omega’ and something flickers across his face—too quick to identify before it’s gone again.

“Thank you,” I whisper, meaning so much more than just the bandages.

He nods once, gathering the first aid supplies with that same precise care. “You should rest. It’s been…it’s been a long day.”

I watch him pack away the supplies, each movement slow. The silence feels too heavy, pressing against my chest until I can’t take it anymore. The words start spilling out before I can stop them.

“I keep doing everything wrong,” I blurt. His hands still on the gauze. “Ever since I got here, I’ve been nothing but trouble. And you’ve been so kind to me—letting me stay here, protecting me, taking care of me even after I ran away like some scared animal…”

“Hailey—” He starts to turn, but now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop.

“And I know I shouldn’t be here. I know I’m disrupting everything. Your pack, your life, your relationship with your alphas. But you’re just…you’re so…” The words tangle in my throat as I try to explain what I barely understand myself. How in just this short time, he’s become something vital. Something necessary. “You’re incredible, Finn. The way you care about everyone. The way you made me feel safe when I couldn’t remember what safe felt like. The way you look at me sometimes, like…”

“Oh, Hailey.” His voice is rough. “Please don’t?—”

“And I’m so sorry!” I push on, the words tumbling faster now. “So sorry for kissing you when I shouldn’t have. For wanting things I have no right to want. For making everything complicatedwhen you’ve already got three amazing alphas and I’m just some broken omega who can’t even control her own?—”

The first aid kit hits the floor with a clatter as Finn surges up, his hands cupping my face. “Stop,” he whispers, and then his mouth is on mine.

The kiss is different from our first—tender where that one had been desperate. His fingers tremble against my jaw as he pulls back just enough to breathe. Heavy breaths come from us both, colliding between us.

Horror fills me at what we just didagainand I open my mouth to fix this somehow, but then he’s kissing me once more, deeper this time, like he can’t help himself. Like he’s drowning and I’m air. I make a small sound in my throat and his hands slide into my damp hair, cradling my head as he presses closer.

“We can’t,” he murmurs against my lips, even as he kisses me again. “I shouldn’t…”

But his body says something different as he shifts closer, one knee pressing into the cushions beside me. I reach for him blindly, fingers curling in his shirt, pulling him nearer still despite that I know I should push away.

The kiss turns hungry. His tongue sweeps across my bottom lip and I open for him with a whimper that seems to break something loose in his chest. He makes a sound—half whimper, half sob—and then we’re falling backward into the nest, his weight pressing me into the blankets that smell of him, of his alphas, of safety and want and home.

His warmth surrounds me, the solid weight of him pressing me deeper into the nest. One of his hands stays tangled in my hair while the other slides down my side, fingers catching in the borrowed shirt—his shirt. The thought makes something hot and possessive curl in my stomach.

“Hailey,” he breathes against my mouth. “I should stop.”

Him? I’m the one that should stop. I’m so bad for doing this. So?—

Finn’s hips shift against mine, and all thought dissipates. I can feel how hard he is, how much he’s enjoying kissing me, too. The realization draws a guilty whimper from my throat.

What I’m doing is wrong. I don’t deserve any of this. None of this is mine. And isn’t this the same thing I was just apologizing for?

“Finn?” I whisper, though I’m not sure what I’m begging for. More? For him to stop? For him to tell me why this feels so right when I know it’s wrong?

He pulls back just enough to look at me, and the raw need in his eyes makes my breath stop in my throat. His thumb traces my bottom lip, swollen from his kisses.

“I don’t understand what you do to me,” he says, voice rough. “What you’re doing to all of us. Your scent, your touch, the way you…” He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead to mine. “Gods, the way you respond to me. Like we’re actually made for something more. Like you’re made for m?—”

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