Page 140 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“I’m sorry, I?—”

“It’s okay, Finn.” I kiss away a tear sliding down his jaw. “Don’t apologize.”

My hands move without conscious thought, exploring the planes of his chest, the strong lines of his shoulders. Each touch draws a small sound from him—tiny, broken noises that make me want to hold him closer, keep him safer.

“No one touches me like this anymore,” he breathes, and the confession breaks my heart. “It feels so good, Hailey. It feels…”

My heart is breaking. Breaking for Finn, for this omega whofeels like some part of my soul that was cut off and hidden away from me until now.

“I’m not worth this.” He shudders against me.

“You are.” I don’t know what I’m doing. Don’t know if I’m doing any of this right. It’s all instinct. The simple, pure urge to make him feel better. I press my lips to his jaw, his throat, everywhere I can reach. His skin is warm beneath my fingers as they slip under the hem of his shirt. “You’re worth everything.”

He shudders, more tears spilling from beneath closed lids. But I can feel something else too—the way his muscles slowly unlock, the tension bleeding out of him at each point that my fingers touch. The way he’s responding to my touch and comfort, even as he fights it.

“I don’t want to need this,” he whispers.

“I know.” I rest my forehead against his. “But I…I need it too.”

The confession makes me feel vulnerable. Touch. It’s a basic need all omegas have.

His hands slide up my back, fingertips tracing each knob of my spine like he’s memorizing Braille. When I shiver, his grip tightens, drawing me down until my chest presses against his. His heartbeat thuds against mine, slightly too fast. I taste salt when I kiss him again—gentler now, slower. Like we have all the time in the world to map the curves of each other’s lips, to discover which touches make him sigh and which make him tremble.

His fingers find the sensitive spot behind my ear, and I melt further into him. He catches my bottom lip between his teeth, then soothes the sting with his tongue. When I run my nails lightly down his sides, he arches up with a broken sound that I swallow with another kiss.

“Hailey…”

“I’m here.” I trace the line of his collarbone, fascinated by the way he arches into the touch. “I’ve got you.”

“I should be the one offering you comfort.”

I inhale, pulling the scent of him deep. “You always do.”

Another tear slides down his jaw, but this time when he kisses me, it tastes less like goodbye and more like beginning. The sorrow is slowly being replaced by a warmth spreading through my chest. It’s not just the physical closeness, not just the way Finn’s body fits against mine, but something deeper. Something that recognizes his pain, mirrors it, wants to soothe it away. My hands roam his back, tracing the scars there, the stories they tell. Each touch draws a soft sigh from him, a gradual release of tension I hadn’t realized he was holding.

He shifts beneath me, and I feel the hard length of him pressing against my thigh. Heat floods my cheeks, shame mixing with something else—a flicker of desire that makes my breath halt and stutter.

I pull back slightly, needing to see his face, to gauge his reaction. “Finn,” I whisper, and his eyes flutter open. They’re still dark, dilated, but the pain has softened, replaced by something that makes my heart race. Something that looks like hope.

Before I can voice the questions swirling in my mind, the soft click of the door makes me freeze against Finn’s chest. In the darkness, I can just make out Jax’s silhouette—tall, broad, wearing nothing but boxers. He pauses in the doorway, and even in the dim light, I can see the way his throat works as he swallows.

My body tenses, every instinct screaming danger, shame, all those things the Academy beat into me. I scramble to pull away, to hide, but Finn’s hands tighten on my waist, holding me still. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion. “He won’t…”

Jax doesn’t move. I can see the defined lines of his torso, the way his muscles flex as he shifts his weight, but he doesn’t come closer. And then I notice it—the unmistakable tent of his arousal, rising higher the longer he stands there.

Heat floods my cheeks even though panic seizes me. My heart hammers against my ribs, fear mixing with a strange, unwelcome flicker of desire. He’s an alpha. He’s Finn’s alpha. And he’s reacting to…to us. Tome?

I try to pull away again but Finn keeps me tethered. Jax still doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches us, his scent thickening in the air—cedar, heady and strong. A scent that feels like it’s seeping under my skin.

Finn shifts beneath me, a low groan escaping his lips as he adjusts his hips. The sound makes Jax’s nostrils flare, but he still doesn’t approach.

“Can I…” His voice is rough. “Can I come in?” The simple question makes me freeze. No command. No anger. Just a request.

Finn doesn’t respond, but his arms tighten around me. I feel his heart thundering beneath my palm.

Jax moves slowly, each step cautious as if he expects to be rejected. As he draws closer, the moonlight from the window catches him, and I can’t help but notice the way his boxers strain even more now, something big and thick hiding just behind the thin material. My breath stops, lungs ceasing—part fear, part something else I’m not ready to name.

But he doesn’t reach for either of us. Instead, he sinks to his knees beside the nest, his eyes fixed on where Finn’s tears glisten in the dark.

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