Page 8 of Knot Broken

Dare’s stare lingers on the curve of my hips, the way the fabric hugs every dip and rise, and the tiny black cropped sweater that flashes just enough skin to count as a threat.

And Jex—sweet, strong Jex—he’s looking at myface.Like he didn’t expect me to hear him. Like he’s halfway to unraveling and terrified I’ll pull the last thread.

God, they’re all stupidly gorgeous.

And if I wasn’t slicking up my thighs before, Idefinitelyam now.

“Evening, gentlemen,” I drawl, leaning against the doorframe like a walking sin and a half. I toss my curls back for dramatic flair, even as my cheeks burn under their full-attention gaze. “You three having fun gossiping about me?”

Fox’s lips twitch, his mouth curling into a slow, devastating smirk. He looks like he’s seconds from eitherpinning me to the counter or feeding me a line I won’t be able to walk away from.

“Only good things,” he says, voice like rich velvet, deep, low, andso unfairly hot.“Promise.”

I arch a brow, all teasing challenge as I shift my gaze to Jex, who hasn’t taken his eyes off me once. That warm amber stare holds me in place, intense and unflinching, and despite my best efforts at bravado, my pulse stutters under the weight of it.

“Hmm,” I hum, letting my voice drag slow and smoky. “Very good things, I gathered.” My eyes drift down his frame, deliberate and unapologetic, lingering over the broad line of his shoulders, the way his shirt clings to his chest. “And trust me,” I add, the words curling sweet and sharp, “very appreciated.”

Jex’s lips pull into a slow, satisfied smile—the kind that makes my insides twist and heat all at once. “Good to hear, sweetheart. Maybe you come a little closer and tell usexactlyhow appreciated.”

I push off the doorframe, laughing softly as I strut forward with exaggerated ease. My voice is dipped in velvet and sass. “Careful what you wish for, big guy. You might not be ready.”

Fox lets out a low chuckle, deep and delicious, and I swear I feel it echo in my spine. Dare’s grinning now too, eyes lit up like he’s watching a game he fully intends to win.

“Oh, we’re ready,” Dare drawls, voice all heat and challenge.

I pause just inches away from them, lifting my chin in mock defiance. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”

Jex visibly relaxes, shoulders loosening as the tension he’s carried since stepping into my house finally starts to ease.His smile grows softer for a breath—just a flicker of boyish charm beneath the Alpha heat—before he narrows his eyes again, pinning me with a look that could melt steel.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice firm, “why is your kitchenvoidof food?”

I cringe, shoulders hitching, caught red-handed. I already know there’s no winning this one.

“Okay,” I say, trying for sweet and innocent and probably landing somewhere closer to guilty raccoon. “Trust me, youdon’twant me to cook. Like… ever. I’ve managed to burn a pot of water.Twice.”

Dare bursts into full-blown laughter, bright and rich, the sound wrapping around me like a blanket. Before I can make another quip, he grabs my waist and tugs me into his arms like it’s the easiest thing in the world. I squeak, unprepared for the sudden closeness, but gods—he’swarm.He smells like bourbon and cinnamon and something darker, something safe.

Then somethingweirdhappens.

A low noise slips from my throat—soft, unfamiliar,embarrassingly animal.

Did I justpurr?

I freeze, eyes wide, heart skipping. Did I seriously just…?

The sound cuts off immediately, my brain short-circuiting with confusion and horror.

Can omegas purr? What the actual hell was that?

But Dare doesn’t seem surprised. If anything, hegrins,leans in—and startspurring back.

It’s a different kind of sound. Deep. Steady. Resonant. I feel it more than hear it, a low vibration rumbling throughhis chest and into mine. And then I catch their scents—Fox’s calming sage and saltwater, Jex’s warm espresso and dark chocolate. They mix with Dare’s heat, wrapping around my lemon frosting scent like they weremeantto be together.

The effect is dizzying.

My muscles melt. Every knot of tension I’ve been carrying slips loose as I collapse into him, my face burying instinctively into his chest. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath forweeksand finally, finally, I can exhale.

“Thank you,” I mumble into his shirt, voice muffled and more raw than I’d like. The words tumble out without permission, soft and honest and terrifying.

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