Page 62 of Knot Made to Break: Part Two

“You don’t know what I’m holding,” I countered, trying to hold on to my elusiveness, though my focus had already begun to drift.

Was it just me, or was the air in here stifling? I resisted the urge to tug at the neckline of my t-shirt, where a bead of sweat had formed at the hollow of my throat.

“Oh, but I do,” Marco grinned, leaning forward with that dangerous glint in his eyes. “Your left eyebrow twitches when you’re bluffing.”

Tommy laughed, the sound bright and easy. “Like you’re one to talk. You practically broadcast your hand to the room. You’re always moving, always fidgeting, but you go still when you’ve got good cards in your hand.”

I should have laughed too, joined in their familiar banter. Instead, I found myself staring at the cards, the symbols blurring slightly as a strange prickle traveled up my spine. My skin felt too tight suddenly, like it didn’t fit quite right.

“Kit?” Tommy’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, trying to focus. “Just thinking.”

But the warmth was spreading now, diffusing through my limbs like molasses, slow and sweet. Impossible to ignore. My heart picked up its pace, thudding against my ribs as though trying to escape.

I barely registered the end of the hand—though I’d lost—and the start of the next. I went through the motions, picking up cards, arranging them, not even seeing what I was holding.

I couldn’t care less about the numbers or the suits. All I wanted was to fan myself with the damn things. One more surge and I’d be sticking my head in the freezer.

Dimitri’s eyes lingered on me longer than usual. I felt his gaze like a physical touch, raising goosebumps along my arms. When I glanced up, his expression had shifted subtly—brows drawn together, nostrils flared slightly. Something unsettling and thrilling coiled in my belly at the intensity of his stare.

The next wave hit without warning, this time accompanied by a tight, hot cramp that seized my lower abdomen. I inhaled sharply, my fingers clenching around my cards, knuckles whitening. The discomfort passed in seconds, but left behind a hollow ache in its wake.

“I...” The word came out breathier than I’d intended, barely audible. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I think I need some water.”

Before I could move, a second cramp twisted through me, stronger than the first. I bit my lip, stifling a whimper. The cards slipped from my grasp, scattering across the table. The movement sent my scent wafting into the air—and in that moment, I knew.

My heat. After days of waiting, wondering, preparing—it was finally here.

Dimitri was on his feet so quickly his chair nearly toppled backward.

“Kitten.”

My name dropped from his lips—commanding, possessive, and unmistakably Alpha. His pupils blew wide, dark chocolate irises nearly swallowed by black. He inhaled deeply, slow and deliberate... and let out the sexiest fucking groan I’d ever heard.

My breath hitched. A shiver rolled down my spine, sharp and sudden, as if my body had been waiting for his voice to drop just like that. Heat pulsed low in my belly, tightening everything inside me.

The rest of the room seemed to freeze, the mood shifting instantly.

Marco set his cards down slowly, brows lifting in silent understanding. Tommy’s smirk vanished, replaced by something sharper—focused, alert. And Gio... Gio leaned forward in his chair like he was being pulled toward me, every muscle in his body going taut.

They felt it too.

Theyscentedit.

My perfume.

Me.

I watched them through increasingly hazy vision, my skin flushing hot, then cold, then hot again. The room felt airless, my clothes suddenly abrasive against my hypersensitive skin. I wanted to tear them off, to cool down, to—I didn’t even know what I wanted anymore. Just that Iwanted.

“I think—” I started, then stopped as another wave rolled through me, stronger this time, stealing my breath.

“Your heat,” Dimitri finished for me—those two words rough-edged and primal.

I nodded, unable to form words as reality crashed over me. After all the planning, all the warning signs, it was real. It was happening. And my body wasn’t asking—it was demanding. It called out to my mates, and they were responding in kind.

Dimitri moved first, striding to the security panel near the entryway. His fingers flew over the keypad in a practiced sequence. A series of mechanical clicks echoed through the penthouse as reinforced locks engaged. Privacy screens whirred down over the windows, dimming the space to a warm, dusky glow.

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