Page 78 of Knot on the Market

She tries to sit up, but I tighten my arm around her waist, keeping her close. Not possessive—well, maybe a little possessive—but more because I can smell the exhaustion still clinging to her. Heat takes everything out of an omega, and she needs more rest.

"Easy," I say gently. "You don't have to go anywhere. Julian and Callum are handling everything else."

Julian steps back slightly after the forehead kiss, giving us space but staying close. "Everything's ready when you are, love. Callum helped me prepare it."

"Wasn't gonna let him do it alone," Callum mutters, but there's affection in his voice.

"We'll go finish getting everything perfect," Julian says, already moving toward the door with that quiet efficiency of his. "Take your time."

Callum follows with a gentle squeeze to Lila's hand before letting go. "Call out if you need anything."

The thought of them taking care of everything, making sure she has what she needs, makes something warm and protective settle deeper in my chest.

"They're okay?" she asks once they've left, and I can hear the worry in her voice. "I didn't... I mean, did I do anything wrong? Say anything?—"

"Hey." I turn her in my arms so she's facing me, so she can see the truth in my eyes. "You were perfect. Everything you did, everything you said was perfect. We're all good, sweetheart. Better than good."

Relief floods her face, followed quickly by something that looks like amazement. Like she can't quite believe this is real, that we're all still here, that nothing's broken or ruined.

"I wanted you," she says quietly, her green eyes wide and wondering. "All of you. Even through the heat, it wasn't just biology. I actually wanted this."

"We wanted you too," I confirm, my voice probably rougher than it should be. "Still do."

The smile that spreads across her face is like sunrise after the longest night of your life. Bright and warm and full of possibilities I'm not sure either of us is ready to name yet.

But then she shifts again, and I watch reality start to set in. The way her nose wrinkles slightly as she becomes aware of how she must smell, how we all smell after three days of the most intense physical and emotional experience of our lives. The slight grimace that suggests various parts of her body are reminding her exactly what they've been through.

"I feel..." she starts, then stops, looking embarrassed.

"Gross?" I suggest with a grin. "Sticky? Like you've been through a marathon you didn't train for?"

Her laugh is surprised and genuine. "All of the above. God, I must smell terrible."

"You smell perfect to me," I correct, because it's true. Her scent is layered with traces of all three of us now, mixed in ways that make my alpha instincts purr with satisfaction. "But you probably want a bath."

The way her whole body perks up at the suggestion tells me I've hit on exactly what she needs.

"A bath sounds like heaven," she admits. "But I don't think I can actually make it down the hall to the bathroom. My legs feel like jello."

"Who said anything about you walking?" I ask, already sliding my arms under her knees and shoulders. "I've got you, sweetheart."

She squeaks in surprise as I lift her, her arms coming around my neck automatically. The simple trust in the gesture, the way she lets me take care of her like this, makes my chest tight with something I don't have words for.

"Dean, you don't have to?—"

"I want to," I interrupt, heading toward the door. "Taking care of you isn't a chore, Lila. It's a privilege."

The words are out before I can stop them, more honest than I intended, but I don't take them back. She deserves to know how we feel about her, how grateful we are that she chose us.

I carry her down the hallway to the main bathroom, and I can hear her breath catch when she sees what's waiting.

The old clawfoot tub is filled with steaming water that smells like lavender and chamomile. Fluffy towels are stacked on the counter next to what looks like half the contents of a spa. Gentle soaps, shampoo that promises to be sulfate-free and omega-safe, bath salts, even a few candles that cast everything in warm, golden light.

"How did you—" she starts.

"Julian," I say simply, setting her down carefully on the closed toilet seat. "He's been planning this since your heat started to break. Wanted everything ready for when you woke up."

Of course he did. Julian thinks three steps ahead of everyone else, anticipates needs before they're even expressed. WhileCallum and I were focused on the immediate physical care, Julian was already thinking about aftercare, about what Lila would need when the heat-haze cleared and she was herself again.

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