Page 35 of Knot Happening

The rest of the drive passes in charged silence. Every few minutes, another wave of heat seems to hit her, and her scent spikes with need and arousal that makes my body respond in ways I'm fighting to control. I'm knotting in my jeans just from being near her, my alpha biology convinced that I should pull over and claim what's clearly mine. But I keep driving, keep my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road, because what she needs right now is safety, not possession.

When we finally reach Maple Street, I park in front of the bakery and kill the engine. The sudden silence feels deafening. Belle is trembling now, her breathing shallow and rapid, and the scent of her heat is so strong it's like a physical presence in the truck.

"Can you walk?" I ask, though I already know the answer by looking at her.

She tries to sit up straighter and immediately sways, pressing her hand to her forehead. “Maybe if I go slow..."

But when I come around to her side of the truck and open the door, she practically falls into my arms. Her legs won't support her weight, and she's burning up with fever. The moment my hands touch her, she melts against me with a soft sound that goes straight through my self-control.

"I've got you," I murmur, scooping her up bridal style. She's lighter than I expected, all soft curves and delicate bones, and she fits against my chest like she was made to be there.

The moment she's in my arms, something fundamental shifts between us. Her omega nature recognizes my alpha strength and responds with trust so complete it takes my breath away. She nuzzles into my neck, scenting me with small, unconscious movements that make my entire body respond.

"Keys?" I manage to ask, though my voice is barely recognizable.

She fumbles in her purse with shaking hands and finally produces a set of keys. The building has a narrow entrance between the bakery and a small law office, leading to a steep flight of stairs. I carry her up carefully.

Her apartment is on the second floor, at the end of a hallway that smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon from the bakery below. When I unlock her door and step inside, I'm struck by how small the space is. It’s really small with a kitchen that's barely more than a closet, a living area that could fit maybe one couch, and what must be her bedroom area sectioned off by a decorative screen.

But it's clean and organized, with touches that are purely Belle. Books stacked on every available surface, plants crowding the single window, a reading corner with a comfortable chairand soft throw blankets. The entire space smells just like her of vanilla and honey and something warm and comforting that I now realize is chocolate.

The chocolate scent is stronger here than anywhere else, and I remember one time seeing Belle and Adam at the library while sharing brownies back forth while they work. It's such a small detail, but it makes this space feel fundamentally Belle in a way that goes straight to my heart.

She stirs in my arms, and I realize I've been standing in her doorway just breathing in her scent. "Where's your heat room?" I ask, though I'm already scanning the small space.

"Behind the screen," she whispers, pointing toward the bedroom area with a shaking hand.

I carry her around the decorative partition and stop short. What I expected to be a simple bedroom setup is actually something much more sophisticated. Her bed is positioned against the far wall, but it's surrounded by what can only be described as a survival setup. Reinforced locks on the bedroom window, blackout curtains that look like they could withstand a hurricane, and shelves lined with emergency supplies such as water bottles, protein bars, medical supplies, extra blankets.

There's a mini-refrigerator in the corner, a small space heater, even what looks like a white noise machine. Everything someone would need to survive a heat completely alone, safely locked away from the outside world. It's impressive and heartbreaking at the same time.

"You built a fortress," I say quietly, settling her gently on the bed.

"I had to," she whispers, then immediately tries to curl away from me as another wave of heat hits her. "I can't... you should go. I'll be fine now."

But even as she says it, her hand reaches out toward me unconsciously, her omega nature craving the comfort and safetyof an alpha's presence. The conflict between what her mind thinks she should want and what her biology actually needs is painful to watch.

"Belle, look at me," I say gently, sitting on the edge of the bed but keeping careful distance between us. "I'm not going anywhere until I know you're safe. Let me help."

"I don't know how to let someone help," she admits, her voice breaking. "I've been doing this alone for so long..."

"Then let me show you," I say. "What do you usually do when a heat hits?"

She gestures weakly toward her supplies. "Water, protein bars when I can manage to eat. The space heater if I get cold, extra blankets if the nesting urge gets too strong. Wait it out."

"That's survival," I say. "Not comfort. When's the last time you ate?"

She has to think about it, which tells me everything I need to know. "This morning, maybe? I had coffee..."

"Coffee isn't food." I stand up and move toward her kitchen area, noting how her eyes track my movement. "Do you have anything here I can make you? Soup, maybe?"

"I think there's..." She tries to sit up and immediately sways. "Top cabinet, cans of soup."

I find the chicken noodle soup, which seems perfect for someone who needs comfort food. While it heats on her tiny stove, I gather water bottles and find a few crackers in her pantry. Simple foods, easy to digest, the kind of thing that will give her strength without overwhelming her system.

When I return to the bedroom area with a tray, she's curled on her side, clutching one of her pillows to her chest. The sight hits me harder than I expected, competent woman reduced to this by her own biology, facing it all alone.

"Sit up," I say gently. "You need to eat something."

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