Page 71 of Knot Gonna Lie
“I think so.” He finally looked over at me. “Green and cream. Soft tones. Natural textures. She touches fabric like she’s cataloging it, so make sure they’re soft—either silky or fuzzy. And research their return policy if she ends up rejecting anything.”
A smile tugged at the edge of my mouth. “Then green and cream it is.”
We worked in companionable silence for several minutes, building comprehensive lists. Food supplies, medical necessities, comfort items. Seth had subcategories for everything—pre-heat, active heat, post-heat recovery. Each phase apparently required different nutritional support.
“Anything for the pack members?”
Seth’s pause stretched long enough to be telling. “Stamina supplements. Electrolyte replacements. Healing salves for...” He gestured vaguely at his neck, where Elara’s bite mark still showed red against his skin.
“Bite marks,” I supplied, keeping my voice carefully neutral.
“Among other things.” He cleared his throat again. “I’ve prepared a whole medical kit specifically for heat support. Everything from muscle relaxants to... various lubricants.” He returned to his tablet, adding items with medical precision. “Protein bars—high density, easy to eat one-handed. Hydration tablets for the water supply. Anti-inflammatory supplements for post-heat recovery.”
The clinical detachment in his voice made it somehow more awkward. I focused on my tablet, adding his medical supplies to our master list. “Anything else?”
“Toys.”
My stylus skittered across the screen. “What?”
“Heat toys. Knotting toys specifically, for when pack members need recovery time.” He said it with the same tone he’d use to discuss antibiotics. “Medical-grade silicone, various sizes.Extensions and sleeves for betas, to allow a similar knotting feeling. It’s standard omega care.”
“Right. Standard.” I created a new private category in our supplies, labeling it discreetly. “I’ll handle that procurement personally.”
“Probably best.” Seth’s relief was palpable. “Their shops would have better selection than our usual suppliers.”
I pulled out my vidtablet, forcing myself to focus on practical matters. Numbers and logistics—safer territory than yearning for things that might never be mine. Our shopping trip at the station had been cut short by everything with Elara. The emergency extraction, the claiming, the sudden shift in our clan’s entire dynamic.
We’d need supplies ready by the time we reached the villa on Planet Tera. And after that, I had to prep for our next supply run—couldn’t afford to be caught unprepared, especially if Eli demanded for us to cut our vacation short.
The inventory lists grew as Seth returned to his cooking, the rhythmic sound of his knife against the board filling the comfortable silence. His apron—the ridiculous one Tobias had bought him as a joke that proclaimed “Kiss the Cook” in neon letters—seemed less absurd now that he actually had someone who might take the suggestion.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor. The rest of the clan filtered in, drawn by the smell of actual food instead of protein rations. Tobias entered first, already grinning at the sight of his brother in domestic mode.
“Smells good in here.” Maia followed, her engineering vidtablet tucked under one arm. “Please tell me you’re making that spiced pasta supreme thing.”
“Only if you fixed the temperature regulator in my med bay.” Seth didn’t look up from his prep work.
“Fixed it yesterday.” She slid into her usual spot at the central display table. “Though I don’t know why you need it so precise. It’s not like you’re growing cultures in there.”
“Medical supplies have storage requirements.” The defensive edge in Seth’s voice made Tobias snort. “I don’t allow preventable mistakes—not when I can help it.”
“Sure they do.” Tobias dropped into the chair beside Maia, his arm automatically going around her shoulders. “Nothing to do with you being particular about everything.”
Seth’s knife thunked harder into the cutting board. “At least my quarters don’t look like they’ve been through an atmospheric breach.”
“That’s organized chaos.” Tobias shrugged, his grin widening. “Very different thing.”
Stella and Sylas arrived together, her hand tucked into his back pocket with casual possession. Their movements synced like orbiting bodies—close, precise, always aware of each other’s pull. Five years together had worn grooves into their patterns—she’d reach for something, he’d already be handing it to her. He’d start to speak, she’d finish his sentence.
The only ones missing were our alpha and omega. Xavier’s voice crackled through the comm system from the pilot’s deck, complaining about missing another meal for navigation duty.
“Someone should take him a plate later,” Maia said, but we all knew it would be Seth. He always remembered the details the rest of us forgot.
“So.” Tobias leaned back in his chair, that troublemaker gleam in his eyes. “My baby brother got claimed first. Who would’ve predicted that?”
Seth’s shoulders tensed. The knife stilled.
“Wonder what our omega saw in you?” Tobias continued, his tone deceptively light. “Quiet, shy Seth who buries himself in his work, using it as a shield—”
