Page 69 of Chain Me Knot

Something for which I still can't forgive myself.

I opened the bond so she could feel how much I hate myself for claiming her, but perhaps it’s too much for her. She’s already been under incredible stress. Maybe I’m only adding to her load. Feeling what I feel is drivingmeinsane, let alone a traumatized omega. I concentrate on the one-sided ribbon that connects us and tamper down my end.

My gaze shifts to the empty hallway where Soren disappeared, the lingering trace of Emma's scent threading through the air, wild honeysuckle mingling softly with hints of sandalwood. The pack bond vibrates beneath my skin, reaching out for the tantalizing, elusive caress of her I don't yet deserve, because the bond I forced on her is still one-sided.

“Hey.” Phoenix nudges me lightly, breaking through the snarl of thoughts drowning me. “Stop torturing yourself, would you?”

I glance at him, forcing an expression of calm onto my face. “Who said anythingabout torture?”

Nothing less than I deserve.

He snorts softly, shaking his head with a quiet smile. “You're wearing that haunted look again, and I can feel you. We've been through this. You’ve marked her. Make her want to mark you back. Let her feel how you feel. The good parts. Not the bullshit festering inside you.”

I let out a tired breath and lean my palms against the cold granite countertop, head bowed. “I can’t stop replaying it in my mind. The way she froze, the betrayal in her eyes.” The words scrape out, raw, defeated. “I forced a claim on her. Took the one thing that should have always,always,been her choice.”

Phoenix steps closer, shoulder brushing mine. “Yeah, you fucked up. A shitty mistake, not gonna lie. But she doesn't hate you for it, Asher. Not with how often she looks at you when she thinks no one's watching.”

Something hard and aching lodges in my throat. I want desperately to believe him; want to believe I haven't wrecked any chance of her trusting me fully. Because if she doesn’t trust me, I’ve blown it for Phoenix and Soren, too.

Yet how can she possibly forgive me, when I can't forgive myself?

The truth is, I don’t just want her to want us because we’re scent-matched. Because she’s dictated to through biology. Because we’re alpha and omega. I want her to want us because she desiresus. I want her to want our touch. Our company.

Our love.

I want her to love us in return because I’ve already fallen hard, fast and ever-lasting with her.

I shake my head slowly, pushing away from the counter. “Even if that's true—and I'm not sure I deserve it—I can't rush her. She deserves every moment to heal without my fucking shadow hanging over her.”

Phoenix sighs, running a palm through his messy hair before setting his palm on my shoulder, squeezing once in reassurance. “You can’t change what happened, Asher. But you’re here now. We’re here. And she needs all of us. We’re her scent-matched mates. If we can’t help her, then no one can.”

I glance at him and nod, forcing the tension from my shoulders, knowing he's right even if it feels impossible in this moment.

“You're already doing better than you think,” Phoenix says.

I swallow the lump in my throat and let out a humorless laugh. “Let's hope that's true.”

We lapse into silence, both staring down the now-empty hall. All I can do now is stand back, patient and watchful, ready the instant Emma opens the smallest door. Until then, I'll carry the burden I deserve for myself and my brothers—heavy, painful, and irrevocably mine.

“Come on, let’s get this dinner done and ready for her,” Phoenix says.

He’s right. Again. She’s too thin and frail. She needs all the nourishment she can get after years of neglect. Adding to that, shifting into a heat she hasn’t had for years will take another toll on her.

Phoenix moves across the kitchen, pulling the cutting board closer and slicing peppers. We move smoothly around each other without speaking, falling into a comfortable routine. Chopping vegetables, simmering sauce, the rich scent of garlic and tomatoes mingling pleasantly until something deeper, something distinctly Emma, weaves through the kitchen.

My hand pauses mid-stir over the saucepan as the heady aroma curls subtly into the kitchen, slipping in through heating vents, winding through cracks in the doorframe. Wild honeysuckle dripping with fresh vanilla has deepened into something richer, sweeter, infinitely alluring—an intoxicating nectar woven with the unmistakable edge of arousal.

My entire body tightens, muscles going rigid as I white-knuckle the wooden spoon. My cock hardens into a diamond blade and I actually check my front to see if the damn thing hasn’t burst through the zipper.

Fuuccckkkk.

It's nearly impossible to fight the raw surge of hunger flooding my blood and settling low in my gut. My alpha flares awake and paces, resentful at being kept on a leash, desperate with that intense need clawing my restraint. The wind off the ocean wiped away her scent when she kissed Phoenix today, but there’s nothing stopping it inside the house.

Phoenix's knife stills, blade poised as he draws a deep breath, eyes darkening with longing. I’m happy to note his tented crotch, too.

He groans softly as he shoots me a wistful glance. “Lucky damn bastard. Another heat spike, you think?”

“It has to be.” Which means her biology might be clicking back online faster than I can repair the chasm between us. The doc said it might happen being around alphas lucky enough to be her scent-matches.

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