Page 230 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“You won’t have to find out,” I promise, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close. His body presses against mine,warm and solid, and I can feel the way he sags into me, like he’s finally letting himself lean on someone else.

But then he moves, his hands coming up to cup my face, his fingers trembling slightly as they brush against my skin. His lips find mine in a kiss that’s soft at first, tentative, like he’s testing the waters. But it doesn’t stay that way.

The kiss deepens, becoming something raw and desperate, like he’s trying to pour every ounce of his pain and his longing into me. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me closer, and I can feel the tremor in his movements, the way his body shakes with the force of his emotions.

“Finn,” I whisper against his lips, my hands tangling in his hair as I try to ground him, to steady him. But he’s relentless, his lips trailing down my jaw and to my neck, his breath hot against my skin.

“I need you,” he murmurs, his voice cracking with the weight of his confession. “I need?—”

His words cut off as I let out a soft sound, half a gasp, half a moan, and he freezes, his hands tightening on my waist as he pulls back just enough to look at me. “Are you…” His voice is low, hesitant. “Is it…the pre-heat?”

I shake my head quickly, my cheeks burning as I press a hand to his chest. “No. It’s not that. Not another wave, at least. It’s just…” I trail off, struggling to find the words to explain what I’m feeling. “It’s…” Should I even say it? “They said you’re my mate, Finn.”

His throat moves.

“I believe it,” I whisper. “And it feels so good, Finn. It feels right. I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

His eyes search mine, and I can see the flicker of relief and something else—something warm and steady—cross his face.

“Our bond,” he repeats, his voice soft, almost reverent. “That’s what I need.”

For a moment, he just looks at me, his gray eyes softening asthe tension in his body begins to ease. Then he pulls me close again, his forehead pressing against mine as his arms wrap around me, holding me like I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion.

“No. I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you,” I whisper, my hands tangling in his hair as I press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But you…you deserve this, Finn. You deserve all the love.”

The next few days are a strange mix of tension and routine. Finn keeps his distance from Stone and Jax, his interactions with them limited to short, clipped exchanges that barely scratch the surface of what needs to be said. I can see the way it wears on them—Stone’s jaw tightens every time Finn walks out of a room, and Jax’s normally steady presence feels strained, like he’s barely holding himself together.

But Finn doesn’t budge.

He spends most of his time with me, and I can feel the way our bond is deepening, growing stronger with each passing day. It’s not something I fully understand yet, but it feels right, like a thread connecting us that neither of us can—or want to—sever.

It’s in the small things. The way he brushes my hair out of my face when I’m curled up on the window seat, his touch lingering like he’s afraid I might disappear. The way he leans into me, like he wants to get under my skin whenever his scent spikes with anxiety. The way his eyes linger on mine when he thinks I’m not looking, like I’m the only thing worth paying attention to.

But there’s something else too. Something subtle but undeniable.

Ever since that night, that drastic revelation, Finn’s scent has been changing.

At first, I don’t notice it for what it is. It’s not dramatic, not yet, just softer, sweeter, with a warmth that lingers in the air after he leaves the room. It’s comforting, familiar, and I let myself sink into it, thinking it’s just…him. Just the bond between us growing stronger.

But it’s not just his scent. It’s the way he’s been acting.

He’s always been attentive, but now there’s a nervous energy to him, like he’s constantly looking for something to do with his hands. He’s been rearranging the blankets and pillows on the bed, smoothing them out with an almost obsessive focus, only to start over again minutes later. He lingers in the kitchen, his hands fluttering over the tea and snacks like he’s trying to prepare for something but doesn’t know what.

I watch him for days, puzzling over the changes. The way he keeps stealing my blouses when he thinks I’m not looking. How he’s arranged the living room pillows into a perfect semicircle three times today. The constant cleaning, organizing, rearranging—like he’s trying to make everything perfect but can’t quite figure out what perfect looks like.

Stone notices, too. I catch him watching Finn with a guarded expression. When Jax raises an eyebrow in question, he just shakes his head. Maybe he’s also trying to piece it together, this subtle shift in Finn’s behavior that we can’t quite name.

Or maybe it’s just me alone that doesn’t know what this means. Because Jax and Stone start exchanging more looks. More things said behind knowing gazes without words passing from their lips.

It’s not until I find Finn in our bedroom one afternoon, meticulously folding and refolding that old quilt from the closet, his movements jittery and almost frantic, that the pieces finally click into place. The scent changes, the restlessness, the compulsive need to create order and comfort…

He’snesting.

The realization sends a jolt through me, followed swiftly by a thread of anxiety. I’ve never seen another omega truly nest before.I’ve never seen one go into heat either. The only experience I have in this is my pre-heat, but the waves are random and when they hit, the only thing I feel is a need to have the pain-pressure eased. This is real. This is something else entirely.

I glance toward the hallway, where I know Jax and Stone are talking quietly in the living room. Yesterday and today in particular, Jax has been watching Finn more closely than usual, his eyes sharp and calculating in a way that makes my stomach twist.

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