Page 81 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“See, they put all these ridiculously attractive omegas on set,” he’s saying now, tablet forgotten in his lap, “and the alphas aren’t allowed to touch them or anyone else or they lose prize money. It’s brilliant torture.”

“That sounds…mean?”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Oh, it absolutely is. But watching them try to resist temptation while also forming genuine connections? It’s fascinating.” His eyes sparkle. “Want to see for yourself?”

Before I can answer, he’s already reaching for what looks like a remote control. A screen I hadn’t noticed before lights up on the opposite wall—some kind of projector setup, I realize. The nestdims slightly as he adjusts something, creating a cozy cinema-like atmosphere.

“We don’t have to watch that one,” he says quickly, misreading my silence. “There’s that baking show I was telling you about that’s much more wholesome?—”

“No, I…I want to see what you like.” The words come out soft, but his answering smile makes my chest tight.

He settles back against a mountain of pillows, then hesitates. “You can…I mean, there’s plenty of room here. If you want to be comfortable.”

My heart thunders in my ears. He’s offering…what exactly? The space beside him looks inviting, piled with soft blankets and cushions. But the thought of being so close…

“You don’t have to,” he adds gently. “You’re free to do whatever you want here. Whatever makes you feel safe.”

Safe.

I study him—the careful way he holds himself, the open honesty in his expression. Before I can overthink it, I scoot closer, settling into the pillows beside him. Not touching, but close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body.

My heart is thundering harder in my chest and I swear I hear Finn inhale deeply before biting back a sound like a groan in his throat.

The show starts, and it’s…bizarre. Beautiful people in a tropical paradise, all tanned skin and perfect hair. But it’s Finn’s running commentary that captures my attention. He knows all their names, their storylines, their mistakes. He gasps dramatically at revelations I’m sure he’s seen before, groans at particularly bad decisions, and occasionally mutters “oh honey, no” at the screen like he’s watching his friends make terrible life choices.

I find myself relaxing despite myself, drawn in by his enthusiasm. At some point, I shift slightly and our shoulders brush. I freeze, waiting for…something. Panic maybe. But all I feel is that now-familiar warmth spreading through my body.

Finn doesn’t move away. Doesn’t make any sudden movements at all. Just keeps watching the screen, though I swear his breathing changes again slightly.

Another episode starts automatically, and I’m suddenly aware of how much closer we’ve gotten. My head is almost resting on his shoulder now, my body curved toward his heat like a flower seeking sun. I should move. Should put some distance between us. But I’m so comfortable, and he smells so good, and…

And it’s like some part of me has always wanted this. Needed this. This comfort andwarmth. My instincts, so long suppressed at the Academy, seem to purr at the proximity of someone safe. Every breath brings his scent—sage and rain—and my usual anxiety feels distant.

I should be terrified by how quickly my defenses are crumbling. How easily I’m responding to him. But there’s something about Finn that makes it feel…okay. Natural. Like maybe I don’t have to fight every instinct, deny every need.

Like maybe I truly don’t need to remain…quiet and starved.

“Cold?” His voice is low, intimate in the dim light.

I realize I’m shivering slightly, though not from cold. Still, I nod, not trusting my voice.

He reaches for a blanket—the purple one he mentioned earlier—and drapes it over both of us with careful movements. The soft fabric settles around us like a cocoon, and this time when I lean into him, it feels natural. Right.

His arm comes up slowly and settles around my shoulders. The weight of it should feel confining. Should trigger every defense mechanism I’ve built over years of survival. Instead, I feel…protected. Safe in a way I can’t explain.

“Okay?” he murmurs, and when he shifts against me, bringing his body closer to mine, I catch something in his scent. A subtle sweetness under the sage that I hadn’t noticed before. That’s when it hits me—he’s drawing comfort from this, too. As another omega, he craves the same things I do. Safety. Warmth. Security.

The realization makes my throat tight. All this time I’ve been worried about being too needy, too omega, and here he is—successful, confident, strong—unashamedly seeking comfort, too. His fingertips trace absent patterns on my shoulder, and I can feel the slight tremor in them, the way he’s holding himself carefully still, like he’s afraid I’ll pull away.

I let myself relax further into his embrace, and feel the way his breath catches, the way his own tension eases in response. Two omegas finding shelter in each other, no pretenses needed.

Is that why the Academy kept us apart? I’d never met another omega at that place except for Vi, and that was by accident.

At the thought of her, my chest feels tight for a whole other reason now. I wonder if she’s alright. Wonder if she found food. Shelter. Or if she’s still out there running. Did the Academy catch her? Did she have to go back? Or is she free?

The unease starts to build so much that I start to tremble again. Finn pulls me closer, still thinking I’m cold.

“Here, come closer.”

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