Page 63 of Knot Going Down
And maybe I’m doing that again.
But it doesn’t feel like it.
When Declan and I were together it was like he was reading my mind. He gave me exactly what I wanted. Each shift and change coming right when I needed it. The words pouring from his mouth healing something inside me.
And last night, watching him with sweet Emily, was a gift I’ll never forget.
I can already see this pack fully formed in my mind. Yes, we’re an unlikely group. Three betas, two alphas who seem tohate each other, and no omega. But we work. They don’t see it yet, but I do. They need each other. And the sexual tension between each and every one of us is off the charts. I’ve never scented anyone who appealed to me as much as these people do. Well, all except Ava. I still haven’t caught a whiff of her. But the rest of them? Best scents I’ve ever experienced. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we’re scent matches. Maybe we are. Most people don’t think it’s possible for betas to scent match, but personally, I think anything is possible.
The way our scents blend shouldn’t make sense, but somehow it does. Declan’s wild forest aura, grounding everything in evergreen calm. Emily’s smoky-sweet warmth, curling around the edges like a secret kept close. And Knox’s leather, striking with quiet power. My own lighter notes—bubbly, sun-warmed, kissed with fruit—thread between us, a bright contrast that somehow lifts rather than clashes.
It feels like something ancient and new at the same time. Like slow-burning firelight and skin-on-skin comfort, the strength of oaks and the softness after. But there’s still a piece missing.
Ava.
I need to scent her, to see how she fits into the chemistry of it all, to see if sheclicksin that final, inevitable way that turns the whole into something magnetic.
The romantic in me always liked the idea of scent matches. Soul mates.
And I think I’ve found mine.
“Fuck,” Knox curses, yanking off his tie for the fourth time.
“Let me help you with that,” I offer, crossing the room to stand in front of him. Gunner, predictably sitting at Knox’s feet, lifts his head and scrambles back, ears perked. He watches us with eager interest, tail already thudding against the rug like a drumroll.
I wrap the tie around the back of his neck and adjust it until the thinner side is shorter and the fatter side comes to the middle of his chest. My fingers brush gently against him as I work, but when I finish it looks wrong. “I have never done it for someone else before.”
“It’s okay, I’ll go without.”
“No.” The ladies would never allow that. Plus, I really want to see him all dressed up. “Sit down.”
He takes a seat on the couch. I move behind him, leaning over the back so our faces are side by side. “This will work better.”
Gunner noses at my leg, tail still going, a huff of doggy breath hitting my calf. I reach down and scratch behind his ears briefly before nudging him away with a quiet, “Not now,doguinho.”
It takes me no time at all to do up the tie in a perfect knot, but I immediately undo it. Selfishly, I don’t want the moment to end. “It was not quite right.”
Knox stays very still as I re-tie, then walk around the couch to admire my work. When he stands, I don’t step back, instead straightening the already straight tie one more time.
“Thanks.” He smiles, his body leaning toward mine.
“It is no problem. I am happy to help with your… knots any time.”
He gifts me a cheeky eyebrow raise. “Is that so?”
“I have tied a few knots in my day.” My palm is still resting over the tie, and I can feel the steady pound of his heart.
His eyebrows lift. “I’m impressed. Not many betas—male or female—can take a knot,” he says, dropping the innuendo for a bluntness that surprises me.
“It takes some preparation,” I whisper, feeling a little off-balance.
Using innuendos comes naturally to me, even when I’m not speaking my native tongue. Maybe it’s even a source of pridethat I can play in another language. But this, speaking directly about things so personal, this feels harder. Like he’s looking straight through me, past the language, past the game, to something raw.
“What kind of preparation?” His hands come to my upper arms, holding me in place like he’s afraid I might run away. The curiosity in his eyes is deeply sincere.
I suck my lips before answering. “Um… the plug anal.” No, that doesn’t sound quite right. I shake my head, feeling more flustered than I’ve felt in a long time. Usually I would use a euphemism, but something about the intense way Knox is looking at me makes me want to be as direct as he’s being. “Butt plugs,” I blurt out, correcting myself. “Of ever increasing sizes.”
His breath comes heavy and warm on my face. “How long does it take you?”
