Page 107 of Knot on the Market

"We love you too," they respond, and the certainty in their voices makes me believe, for the first time in my life, that forever might actually be possible.

Chapter 34

Dean

Three weeks of living together officially, and I'm still not used to how perfect it feels.

I wake up every morning with Lila curled against my side, Julian reading quietly in the chair by the window with his first cup of coffee, and Callum already dressed and planning whatever project he's decided needs his attention that day. The domestic harmony of it should feel routine by now, but instead it feels like a miracle I get to experience over and over again.

Our routines have settled into something comfortable and natural. Lila has claimed the kitchen table by the window for her morning coffee and whatever book Julian's recommended. Julian has turned the small den into a home office that somehow manages to be both meticulously organized and cozy. Callum has taken over half the garage for his woodworking projects, though most of what he builds ends up being something thoughtful for the house or for Lila.

And I've never been happier in my life.

But there's something missing. Something that's been nagging at me for days now, growing stronger every time I watch Lila move through our home like she belongs here completely,every time one of the guys automatically adjusts their schedule around what she needs, every time someone at the station asks about my "girlfriend" and the word feels insufficient for what she actually is to us.

She's not just my girlfriend. She's not even just our omega. She's... everything. Partner, family, the center of the life we're building together. But there's no official recognition of that, no way for the world to understand that what we have is permanent, sacred, completely committed.

Which is why I'm standing in the bathroom at six in the morning, staring at my reflection and working up the courage to suggest claiming bites.

Marriage. That's what claiming bites really are, when you strip away all the biological terminology and pack dynamics. They're the omega and alpha equivalent of wedding rings, of vows, of and declaring that this person is your family now, forever and always.

The face looking back at me is familiar but definitely different than it was a month ago. Happier, more settled, with the kind of contentment that comes from knowing exactly where you belong. But there's also nervous energy building in my chest, the same feeling I used to get before big presentations at the station or difficult rescues.

Because asking someone for claiming bites—even when you're already living together, already completely committed, already building a life together—is terrifying. What if she's not ready? What if she thinks three weeks isn't long enough to be sure? What if the whole idea of permanent biological bonds feels too much like the pack politics she fled from in LA?

"Dean?" Lila's voice drifts from the bedroom, sleep-rough and concerned. "You okay in there? You're thinking very loudly."

The observation makes me smile despite my nerves. She knows me well enough now to pick up on my moods from the next room.

"Fine," I call back, but my voice cracks slightly on the word.

I splash cold water on my face and try to organize my thoughts. This doesn't have to be complicated. We love each other, we're living together, we're building something permanent. Claiming bites are the natural next step. The way to make it official, to create the ultimate pack bond between us.

Lots of packs get claimed within months of bonding. It's not unusual. It's romantic, actually. And if anyone was going to rush into claiming because they're absolutely certain about their feelings, it would be me. Golden retriever energy, as Callum calls it with fond exasperation.

I find her sitting up in our bed—because it's definitely our bed now, all four of us together—hair messed from sleep, wearing one of my old fire department t-shirts that's become her unofficial pajamas. The sight of her hits me like it does every morning. Overwhelming gratitude and love and the desperate need to make sure she knows how completely she's wanted.

She's beautiful in the morning light, soft and rumpled and perfectly unguarded. When she sees me in the doorway, her whole face lights up with the kind of joy that makes my chest tight with emotion.

"Come here," she says softly, patting the space beside her. "You look like you need cuddles."

I settle next to her, and she immediately curls into my side with the unconscious trust that still amazes me. For a moment we just breathe together, comfortable in the quiet morning peace that's become my favorite part of every day.

"What's got you all wound up?" she asks, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest through my sleep shirt. "And don't say 'nothing.' I can practically hear the wheels turning."

The gentle teasing makes me realize how transparent I'm being. But that's one of the things I love about our relationship—no games, no pretending, just honest communication even when it's scary.

"I want to claim you," I blurt out, the words tumbling out before I can lose my nerve.

She goes very still against me, her fingers stopping their gentle movement. "Claim me?"

"Claiming bites," I clarify quickly, my hand coming up to stroke her hair. "I know it's only been three weeks since we officially moved in together, but I don't do anything halfway. When I know something's right, I know it completely."

I pause, trying to find the right words to explain the intensity of what I'm feeling. "I want you to be ours completely. I want claiming bites that create permanent bonds between us, that make us pack in the deepest way possible."

She's quiet for a long moment, and I start to worry that I've overwhelmed her. That three weeks really is too soon, that she needs more time to adjust to living together before considering something so permanent.

"Is this because you want me to feel more secure?" she asks carefully. "Because I already feel secure, Dean. I'm not going anywhere. Moving in together was my commitment ceremony."

---