Page 66 of Knot on the Market

The moment I step inside, her scent hits me like a physical blow.

Green apple and white musk, but different. Molten. Syrup-thick and sweet with something that makes my brain short-circuit and my body respond before rational thought can intervene. The air itself feels heavy, saturated with omega heat in a way that bypasses every wall I've built around my self-control.

My cock hardens almost painfully against my work jeans, my own scent spiking sharp and possessive in response. I grip the doorframe, knuckles going white.

Fuck.She's in heat.

"Lila?" I call out, my voice rougher than I intended. "Where are you?"

No answer, but I can follow her scent trail through the house, stronger in the living room, concentrated near the stairs. My boots sound loud on the hardwood as I climb, each step bringing me closer to whatever's waiting upstairs.

The scent leads me to a room I've never seen before. Small, painted blue, filled with afternoon sunlight and the most intoxicating concentration of omega heat I've ever encountered. I pause at the doorway, automatically toeing off my work boots.

My vision actually hazes for a moment when I see her.

She's kneeling in the center of what can only be described as a nest. Blankets and pillows arranged with careful precision, all of it saturated with her scent and something else—something familiar. My flannel, spread across one side. Dean's t-shirttucked near where her head would rest. What looks like Julian's button-down folded neatly at the foot of the arrangement.

But it's Lila herself that makes my world tilt off its axis.

She's wearing only an oversized t-shirt, damp with sweat and clinging to curves I've been trying not to think about for days. Her hair is mussed, cheeks flushed pink with heat, pupils blown wide and dark. And between her thighs—Christ, between her thighs there's slick, actual slick pooling beneath her and soaking into the sheets.

Every cell in my body screams to move, to claim, to mark her as mine.

But she texted me. Called for me.

My hands are shaking as I pull out my phone, trying to think past the haze of want and need. Dean's in that meeting with the Captain. Julian, then.

I try to type with unsteady fingers.

Lila's in heat. At her house. Don't know what to do.

Julian's response comes quickly:On my way. 15 minutes. Keep her comfortable. Don't leave her alone.

Don't leave her alone. Right. I can do that.

"Callum..."

Her voice is wrecked, pleading, and when I look up from my phone she's watching me with those wide green eyes. The sound of my name on her lips makes my cock throb and my scent spike so sharp it's probably filling the entire room.

"Please..." she breathes, her thighs clenching as another wave of slick dampens the sheets beneath her. "Help..."

I drop to my knees beside the nest, toolbox forgotten somewhere behind me. My hands tremble as I reach out to brush damp hair away from her flushed face, and the moment my skin touches hers, she whimpers.

The sound goes straight through me like lightning.

"Lila," I manage, my voice barely recognizable even to myself. "What do you need from me?"

She leans into my touch, her skin fever-warm and impossibly soft. When she looks up at me, pupils dilated and lips parted, I can see the exact moment her heat-addled brain processes my scent.

"You," she whispers, so quiet I almost miss it. "Need you."

The admission nearly breaks what's left of my control. My free hand clenches into a fist at my side. She's in heat. She's not thinking clearly.

But fuck if it doesn't feel like everything I've ever wanted to hear.

"Julian's coming," I tell her, trying to keep my voice steady and failing completely. "He'll know what to do."

"Want you," she says, her hand finding my wrist and gripping tight. Her touch burns through my skin like a brand. "Need you. Right now."

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