Page 199 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

Tears prick at my eyes, a mix of frustration and exhaustion. I press my face into the blanket again, desperate for comfort, but it only makes it worse. Jax’s scent surrounds me, rich and grounding, yet it fans the flames instead of smothering them.

My thighs clench helplessly, the ache sharpening into something unbearable.

For the first time in my life, I dip a hand beneath the band of my pants. When my fingers brush the damp fabric of my panties, right over the aching bud between my legs, a bolt of pleasure shoots through me so sharp it makes my vision blur.

I need to stop. I need to stop this.

But my body won’t listen.

I’m so lost in the haze that I don’t hear him approach.

A warm hand settles on my shoulder, and I shudder underneath it. Through lowered lashes, I see Finn crouch beside me. My body sways toward him without permission, the pre-heat flaring even hotter, and before I can stop myself, I whisper, “Finn…”

But the muscles under my jaw are far too hard. The scent that fills my lungs is cedar and fresh air, not Finn’s softer sage.

My eyes snap open, and I tilt my head back to find Jax looking down at me, his jaw clenched and working.

“Jax,” I breathe out. But my voice trembles even as I try to ease off him.

His hands stay around me, preventing me from running away from this. There’s something in his gaze—something heavy—even as I see his jaw clench so hard I’m sure he’ll destroy all his teeth.

“I should get Finn.” The rumble that’s his voice vibrates through his chest and into me.

A whimper escapes before I can stop it. He’s right—I know he’s right. Finn should be here. But when Jax tries to detangle himself from me, my instincts surge into overdrive. My fingers diginto his forearm, desperate and trembling. The thought of him leaving, even just to go upstairs, makes something primal inside me want to cry out. I feel too raw, too exposed—like my skin’s been peeled back, leaving every nerve ending exposed to the air.

His eyes darken at my grip, nostrils flaring as he catches the distress in my scent. “Hailey…”

My fingers betray me before my voice does, clutching at his sleeve with an urgency that surprises us both. I should be afraid—this is an alpha, after all. But beneath the cedar scent that’s been driving me to distraction all morning is something else: a steady, reliable presence that reminds me of how he carefully fixed my hair, how he’s kept his distance, how he's watched over me without demanding anything in return.

“Please,” I whisper, the word barely audible. My own response startles me; this morning I could barely meet his eyes, and now I’m clinging to him like he’s oxygen. I know I should let go. Know this isn’t fair to any of us. But something that feels more like my true self than the Academy’s conditioning is screaming for the safety of an alpha’s presence. Not just any alpha—thisalpha. Jax. And right now, he’s the only thing keeping me from flying apart at the seams.

His expression shifts. Jax’s jaw tightens further, and his hand slides from my shoulder to my chest, pushing me tighter against him. His chest is solid, warm, and the strength in his grip makes something inside me unravel.

“You trust me?” he asks, voice rough, but there’s a softness underneath, a quiet vulnerability.

I nod against him, my fingers twisting in his shirt. “Yes.”

The word hangs between us, and I feel the tension in him ease ever so slightly.

“You’re safe.” His voice drops into something lower, something that settles deep in my chest. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

The promise in his tone wraps around me like a shield, and I let myself sink into him, my body trembling as another wave of pre-heat crashes over me.

Jax shifts, pulling me fully into his lap. “You’re burning up,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. His hand moves to my waist, anchoring me, and I can feel the tension in his grip—like he’s holding himself back, careful not to push too far.

“I can’t… I can’t stop it,” I whisper. My voice breaks under my admission, because it’s true. I can’t stop it. Forcing it go to away does nothing.

“I know,” he says. “Just breathe for me.”

His voice is a low, steady command that cuts through the fog in my mind. I take a shaky breath, my body leaning into the strength of him, and he hums softly, like he’s pleased.

“That’s it,” he says. “Good girl.”

The words send a shiver through me, and I feel his grip on my waist tighten. His scent is everywhere now, cedar and warmth, and it soothes me even as it stokes the fire inside me.

“Do you want me to help you?” He whispers it so low, his voice is like thin lace that rolls over my skin.

I nod, cheeks burning, and I feel his chest rumble with a low sound—something that’s not quite a growl but close.

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