Page 96 of Knot Going Down
Ava comes down the stairs right as I’m scent marking Ly.
“Get over here.” I reach for my omega, voice edged with command. I needher, too.
She hesitates—arms crossed, chin tucked down slightly. It's the most uncertain I’ve seen her. Before her heat, she was distant and restrained, even a bit pissy. But during it, I saw a different side of her, stripped bare and begging. She was raw, wild, unfiltered.
Now, she’s shuttered. Like she’s not sure where she fits anymore. And I hate it. Hate seeing her pull back.
“Get. Over. Here.” It’s not quite a bark, but it’s damn close.
Ava takes slow steps toward me. When she’s within reach, I grab her by the hips and pull her down into my lap, half on top of Ly. Both women make a noise somewhere between a huff and a squeak. I spread my knees wider, adjusting them so Emily is perched on one thigh and Ava on the other.
Then I scent mark the hell out of them. Neck, jaw, behind the ears. My omega. My beta. Mine. They relax into it, soft sounds of contentment easing from their lips, loosening some tight coil inside me.
Until Lucas steps out of the downstairs bathroom.
He’s freshly showered, damp curls and clean skin still steaming slightly from the heat. Just like the women in my lap. All of them, scrubbed of the slick, of the knot-heavy haze, ofme. I know the scent was getting overwhelming. I know we all needed the reset. But the alpha in me—territorial, hungry, stillhalf-feral from days of sex—reads it as rejection. Like I’ve been washed off. Replaced. Too afraid that’ll become real when they choose Declan over me.
The growl that comes from my chest makes all three of them freeze. I straighten, as tense as a predator about to pounce, gaze locking on Lucas.
“I think he needs to scent mark you,” Ly says, a slight laugh in her voice at my expense, but not unkind. Understanding.
Lucas meets my eyes, then leans forward over the back of the couch, bringing his face close. Close enough to offer.
Close enough to claim.
I nuzzle into his neck, rubbing my scent all over his jaw, under his ear. He smells like soap and steam andme.A delighted purr fills my chest now that my betas and my omega smell like mine again.
“So, are we going on an excursion?” Lucas asks. “I have already paid for the tour, and I think we could all use some fresh air.”
“Declan’s on a call with his boss,” I reply. Not really an answer, but for some reason I feel like I need to defer to him on this. Maybe if I let him know I can obey outside of the bedroom, he’ll let me into this pack.Hispack. Because it’s clear that’s where this is headed. Pack McLaren. There’s no way the three of them are going to choose me—a criminal with nothing to offer—over Declan. He’s smart, established, safe, and hot as fuck.
Speak of the devil.
Declan opens the sliding door from the balcony and strolls back into the room. His gaze lands on the women on my lap and Lucas beside us, nostrils flaring. I can see the alpha in him clawing to the surface, fighting for control. He doesn’t move toward us, doesn’t lunge or growl, but it’s there. The part of him that wants to erase me from their skin and cover them withhisscent.
Turning toward the kitchen, he proves he has more control than I do.
“Is there still coffee?” His voice is smooth—too smooth—like he’s trying to smother something sharp, and it gives me a cocky smile.
“Should be,” I say. “I put on a fresh pot when Ly started growling at the room service menu.”
“I was growling at the prices,” Emily corrects. “Not the food.”
“You do not need to worry about the prices,” Lucas says, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead.
Declan grabs a mug from the cabinet and pours. He doesn’t look at us, but I can feel him thinking. Assessing. Calculating risk.
“We getting off the boat today?” he asks, still facing the window. “Stretch our legs, get some real food?”
“Depends,” I answer. “Bermuda’s not a bad place to disappear.”
Declan turns slowly, coffee cradled in one hand, his expression unreadable. “You thinking about disappearing?”
I hold his gaze. “Not unless you think I should. Cinder blocks tied to my feet. Throw me off a bridge perhaps?”
His eyes narrow slightly, then he blows on the coffee and takes a sip. “We’ll talk.”
“No murder, please.” Ava dismisses my not-quite-joke with a wave of her hand. “At least not until we’ve eaten something that didn’t arrive under a silver dome or come from under a buffet’s heat lamp.”
