Page 59 of Knot Just Their Nanny
I swing by my house to pick up a few essentials; I’m not doing the full move today, that will take days, but it’s enough to get me started, while I get the agents on the phone to tell them to start the ball rolling. I haul out a big holdall and pack toiletries, a couple of changes of clothes, my work stuff and a couple of books to keep me going.
As I pack, a feeling of contentment settles over me. I just hope that Zara feels the same way as I do about this move, butone thing I know is that she can’t refute it if she knows it’s to help Ben out. The rest will come.
Chapter 32
Zara
After my second cool shower of the day, while Mia is napping, I blow out a breath as I stare at my still-flushed face in the mirror on the dressing table in my bedroom.
“What the hell is this?” I murmur, only because I’m trying to convince myself it’s anything but what it is. But I’m a twenty-three-year-old omega who has known exactly what she was since her first heat five years ago. I’m in my pre-heat. This isn’t due for another three fucking weeks.
These alphas are messing with my biology, and it has fucked me off on a scale of where one is good, and ten is bad; this is a million.
“Alpha assholes,” I moan. “Fucking alpha-holes. That’s what you all are.”
Dropping my face into my hands, I gulp and decide to play dumb for a day or so. Maybe it’s a false start from all the emotions, and my active heat won’t actually appear yet. There is no point in getting Susan to uproot her life on the off chance that this is the real deal. Not yet, anyway.
I pinch my nose as I can smell the scent of lavender wafting about. The guys are going to know.
Sprinting down the stairs and into the living room, frantically lighting the vanilla-scented candles I’ve spotted and spraying air freshener like there’s no tomorrow, I’m desperate to mask my natural scent. My body betrays me as my pre-heat starts to kick it up a notch, a searing warmth spreading throughout me that I am not yet ready to reveal to Liam and Ben.
The washing machine beeps to announce it has finished its cycle of Mia’s baby clothes, so I gratefully abandon the stench in the lounge for the kitchen and empty the washer into the basket. The day is warm, and a soft breeze is blowing, so I bypass the dryer and head out to the back garden to peg out.
When I’m done, I give the rotary line a spin, feeling like a kid, but it brings a smile to my face to see the clothes waving about in the breeze. Heading back inside, I hear a noise through the baby monitor, so I head upstairs to see to Mia.
I freeze on the spot, my heart doing somersaults when I see that it wasn’t Mia who alerted the sensitive monitor. It’s Henry. He’s standing in the spare bedroom, the one right at the top of the stairs, surrounded by a sea of boxes and bags. He looks up, his gaze locking onto mine with that familiar, easy smile.
“Hey, Zara,” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to be here, moving into the spare room without a word of warning.
These alphas are fucking me off with this!Not that Ben owes meanyexplanation. This is his house, and I work in it; I just also happen to live in it by the nature of the job.
“Hi, Henry. You’re moving in too?”
“Yep. The more incomes, the merrier.”
I nod, getting it instantly. Ben needs this, so who am I to grumble?
The thought of adding another alpha to this already heady situation sends a shiver down my spine. I should feel cornered, but instead, I feel a strange thrill at the prospect.
“Guess we’re going to have to work up a shower schedule,” I murmur.
“I’m easy. Most days, anyway,” he says as Mia wakes up now, and I need to tend to her. He waves me off without another word, and I leave him to it, heading into the nursery. Mia is still not well and doesn’t even wait for her bottle before she dozes back off. All the talking must’ve woken her up.
Making sure she’s settled, I retreat to my sanctuary. My room needs to be a place where I can keep my thoughts straight, especially now. Without even a second thought about what I’m doing, I gather my nesting materials. Throwing the duvet on the floor in the darkest corner of the room, I look around. The blanket Henry gave me is first - it’s soft, plush, and the most comforting thing I own. I pile on more blankets, each one adding another layer of security. Pillows come next, fluffy and inviting, creating a fortress of comfort around me.
As I arrange and rearrange the blankets, making sure every corner feels just right, there’s a sense of pride swelling within me. This is my space, my haven, and no matter how messed up the world gets, this nest is mine to control, to find solace in. It’s soft and warm, a shield against the world and the unexpected turns it seems to enjoy throwing my way.
I’m fluffing up the last of the pillows when his scent hits me, like a clean shirt pulled straight from the line on a sunny day after being washed in bergamot washing powder. It’s unmistakable, its citrusy edge cutting through the floral haze in my room.
I sit there for a moment, pillow in hand, as Henry’s scent wraps around me. It’s like he’s here, in this room, not just moving his stuff into the spare bedroom down the hall. I try to shake my head clear, to focus on the nest I’ve been so carefully constructing, but it’s no good. The more I try to concentrate onarranging the blankets just right, the more I become aware of his presence—like he’s a ghost haunting the edges of my senses.
A river of lava runs through my core. I’m not sure if it’s from excitement or something else. There’s no denying it anymore. In my pre-heat state, Henry’s scent is getting to me, weaving its way through my defences, stirring things inside that I’m not ready to face.
And then, without warning, my heat slams into me.
It’s like being plunged into too-hot, deep water without a chance to take a breath. My heart beats rapidly, thudding against my ribs so fiercely it makes me dizzy. The cramps in my womb make me gasp for the breath that isn’t there, and that deep ache pulses to life between my legs, insistent and demanding attention, needing a knot.
“Fuck,” I rasp, clutching the pillow tighter. I press my thighs together, trying to quell the sudden, maddening throb and gush of slick that has soaked my knickers. It’s no use, though. Every cell in my body seems to be vibrating, responding to the invisible call of Henry’s scent.
