Page 76 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

Four steps to the door. Three.

“Stone.” His voice drops, something raw bleeding into his tone. “Please.”

The plea catches me off guard. Ren doesn’t beg. Doesn’t show vulnerability. Not like this. That’s twice now he’s said “please” this morning, and something cold settles in my gut at the realization. Because in all our time as a pack, I’ve never heard him beg for anything. Not even when he was bleeding out in my arms after the accident. Not even when Finn was in that coma. Whatever this is, whatever he’s hiding—it’s breaking him.

I turn to face him, really look at him, and what I see makes my chest ache. He’s practically vibrating with tension, but there’s something else there. Something haunted in his eyes that goes deeper than just worry about Finn.

“What aren’t you telling us?” I keep my voice low, though Jax can probably hear anyway. “What do you know about?—”

He swallows hard. “Fuck, Stone, don’t ask me that. Please.”

Two steps from the door. Close enough now to catch their mingled scents. It hits me hard. Vanilla and honey wrapped around Finn’s familiar sage and rain. The fact I can smell it through a closed door means they’re both perfuming. A lump swells in my throat as I stop moving.

The scent wraps around my throat like a fist, choking rational thought from my mind. My body betrays me instantly—pulse hammering, muscles trembling, skin too tight. Cock immediately hard. I have to grit my teeth against the urge to follow that perfume to its source, to let instinct override the last threads of my control. Each inhalation is torture. Each exhalation is worse.

But this doesn’t make sense. She can’t be in heat—there’d be crying, whimpers of pain, the desperate keen that every omega in heat makes. And Finn… Finn’s not due for another three weeks, at least. I know his cycles better than I know my own heartbeat. So why is their perfume so potent it’s making my vision blur at the edges? Why does every alpha instinct I possess want me to tear through that door?

The soft sound of harsh breathing beside me finally breaks through my haze. Ren stands rigid, tendons standing out in his neck. His eyes are almost black, pupils blown so wide I can barely see the ring of color around them, and a low growl builds in his chest—not threatening, but distinctly alpha. The sound cuts off abruptly as he clamps down on his reaction, but I catch the way his hands shake, the way his breathing turns ragged.

I meet his wild eyes, letting my silence say what he’s not ready to hear. He’d dismissed my theories about Hailey before. Hadn’t wanted to believe what I’d suspected about her scent, about her compatibility with our pack.

My hand rises toward the door, hesitates.

“They’re quiet,” Ren chokes out, and there’s genuine fear in his voice now. “Why are they so fucking quiet?”

“Maybe they’re sleeping.” But even as I say it, I know it’s wrong. Finn doesn’t sleep easily with strangers. Hasn’t since…

One step left.

The wood is smooth under my palm as I press it against the door, not quite knocking. Just feeling. Listening.

Nothing. No movement. No voices. No…

Wait.

There—so soft I almost miss it. A whisper. Words I can’t quite make out, but Finn’s voice. Steady. Gentle in a way I’ve never heard from him before.

Another voice answers—female, trembling but clear. Hailey.

“Stone.” Jax again, from the bottom of the stairs. “Report.”

I have to pull myself from the door, practically drag myself away. One hand on Ren’s collar and I pull him back like a dog. Their combined scents are too much. We stagger back to the edge of the landing, dazed.

“What’s going on in there?” Jax searches both our gazes, and I see the moment he notices just how much we’re fighting for composure. His nostrils flare, catching what I’m sure is just a trace of what hit us at that door. But even that’s enough to make his eyes flash dangerously before he forces them back to normal. His usual iron control slips just enough to let a low rumble escape his chest before he clamps down on it. His mouth slams shut. Jaw ticks. Brows furrow slightly.

I know that look. The one that settles on his face like a weight, like he’s mentally shouldering another burden. Our alpha, always carrying the pack’s problems like chains around his neck. Always believing every crisis is his to solve, his responsibility alone. The slight downturn of his mouth speaks volumes—he’s already calculating, planning, trying to figure out how to protect us all from whatever storm is brewing behind that door.

“They’re talking,” I try to keep my voice low. It comes outstrangled instead. All I can focus on is that combined scent. “I can’t make out words, but…they’re calm.”

A harsh breath escapes Ren. His anger’s ebbing, but it’s almost as if he wants to reach out and grab it again like some cloak. “You sure about that? Because last time Finn was this quiet?—”

“This is different.” I don’t know how I know, but I do. Something about their mingled scents, about the way they’ve wrapped around each other… “They’re okay.”

“I don’t believe it.” He turns to head back to the door, but I tighten my hold on his collar. “Omegas don’t get along?—”

“No.” I keep my hold on him, but he doesn’t try to tug away. Gaze shifting back to the door, I wonder if he wants to go closer again just to make sure. Just to make sure the scent that just hit him is real. “But they’re fine. We would know if they weren’t.”

For a moment, I think he might fight me. His muscles bunch under my palm, aggression rolling off him in waves. But then a low whisper drifts down the hallway. Finn again, that same gentle tone—and Ren…deflates.

---