Page 40 of Knotting else Matters

Silence crashed between us, heavy, suffocating. His dark eyes stayed locked on mine, and for the first time, the calm in his gaze cracked—just slightly, just enough for me to see the sharp, possessive hunger burning beneath it.

A low, rough sound slipped from his throat—half a growl, half a laugh. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

He stepped closer, and I hated the way my heart kicked against my ribs, the way my body reacted to his heat, his scent, even with the anger blazing between us.

“You think because you’re a Zeta, you’re somehow beneath me?” His voice was low, dangerous. “That you’re nothing?”

“Don’t play dumb,” I snapped. “It’s how it’s always been. Alphas rule. Betas serve. Omegas are treasured. And Zetas? We’re the leftovers. The outcasts. The ones who don’t fit into your neat little hierarchy.”

“You think I care about that?” His voice was a sharp, rough whisper, his breath warm against my cheek. “You think I give a damn about pack politics right now?”

“You’re an Alpha. Of course you do.”

“I’m an Alpha,” he growled, his hand sliding to the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp. “Which means I take what I want. And right now, I want you.”

My heart twisted, my pulse hammering against the mark on my neck, a sharp, aching heat spreading through me. But I forced myself to hold my ground, to meet his fierce, burning gaze without backing down.

“Wanting isn’t the same as having,” I whispered, my voice a mix of defiance and desperation. “You can’t just… claim me and expect me to fall in line.”

“I don’t want you in line.” His voice softened, that fierce, possessive hunger still burning in his eyes. “I want you exactly as you are—wild, stubborn, impossible.My sweet chaos.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Make me.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Try.”

And gods help me, I grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer, my mouth crashing against his in a fierce, desperate kiss. His hand tightened in my hair, his other arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me against him, the anger, the frustration, the wild, impossible need crashing between us like a storm.

This was a mistake. A disaster waiting to happen. And I couldn’t stop.

My phone buzzed, the sharp, insistent vibration slicing through the charged air between us. I jerked, my grip on Adrian’s shirt loosening, my breath still coming fast, my pulse still racing. Sophie’s name flashed across the screen.

“Oh, shit.” Panic clawed at me, a sudden, irrational wave crashing over the fire of my anger.

“Answer it.” Adrian’s voice was calm, steady, but there was a faint, amused glint in his dark eyes. “But maybe don’t do it with my penthouse wallpaper in the background. Unless you want to explain why you’re here.”

I didn’t bother glaring at him. He was right, damn it. I scrambled, stumbling toward the kitchen, pressing my back against the plain white wall, trying to catch my breath, trying to force some kind of calm into my voice.

The phone kept buzzing. My thumb hovered over the screen, and I forced myself to smile—a tight, probably manic smile that felt more like a grimace. Then I answered.

“Soph? Hey—”

“Oh, gods, Liv!” Sophie’s voice was a breathless, panicked sob, her words tumbling over each other in a frantic, barely coherent rush. “It’s a disaster. I— I tried, I really tried, but they delivered the wrong flowers, and the table settings are all wrong, and the bakery just called and they said they can’t do the sugar flowers for the cake because their machine broke, and I don’t know what to do, and Karl is trying but he’s useless with this stuff, and I’m losing my mind!”

I blinked, the anger simmering in my chest flickering, stumbling beneath the weight of her panic. “Sophie, breathe.”

“I can’t breathe! There are roses instead of lilies, Liv! And the napkins are— they’re… they’re burgundy! I ordered lavender!”

“Okay, first of all, we’re going to fix this. Second of all, you’re not losing your mind. You’re just… having a moment. It’s fine. Breathe for me.”

She sniffled, her breathing a little more steady, but still shaky. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t— I can’t make everything perfect, and everyone’s going to see, and it’s going to be a mess.”

“Sophie, look at me,” I said, even though she couldn’t see me. “Your wedding is going to be beautiful. You’re going to be beautiful. And I promise you, nobody is going to care if the napkins are burgundy instead of lavender.”

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