Page 41 of Hot Knot Summer
His unexpected support makes me pause. Levi isn’t given to impulse decisions. If he sees merit in this plan, perhaps I should trust it more than I do.
8
EMMA
Isit on the edge of the bed in my temporary room, staring at the wall without really seeing it. The nest of blankets behind me is still rumpled from where I’d created a makeshift cocoon after scrounging every spare blanket I could find in the room and cupboard. It had taken that fortress of fabric wrapped around me before I’d felt secure enough to curl into it to stop the panic taking over.
The station is quieter, seeing that the guys left on their call, but my mind is anything but calm.
“Get it together, Emma,” I mutter to myself, rubbing my temples.
The problem is, I can’t stop thinking about them. All three of them. It’s crazy. I’ve known these men for less than twenty-four hours, yet I can’t get them out of my thoughts, especially after that moment with River in the laundry room.
I glance back at the rumpled blanket nest. I toldmyself it was just because the station was cold, the bed unfamiliar. Just a comfort thing.
But here I am, twenty-four hours in this town, and suddenly, I’m exhibiting behaviors I’ve successfully suppressed for years.
It must be stress. The fire. The displacement. It has nothing to do with three pairs of eyes that follow my movements, three distinct scents that somehow complement each other perfectly, and horrifyingly, seem to complement mine as well.
It hadn’t really worked, anyway. Even in my mind, I can’t stop fantasizing made-up stories about them.
Atlas’s hands lock around my waist, unbreakable. “Found you,” he growls, his breath hot against the curve of my shoulder. His presence engulfs me completely as he pulls me hard against his chest, one hand splaying possessively across my stomach.
“No more running, Emma.” River appears before me, blue eyes darkened to midnight, that dangerous smile cutting across his face. He traces the outline of my lips with his fingertip, a touch so light, yet commanding my full attention. “We always claim what belongs to us.”
Levi materializes at my side, studying me as his fingers trail down my arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Your body betrays you,” he observes. “Every reaction tells a story you’re trying to deny.”
Atlas’s lips brush the sensitive skin behind my ear. “She’s afraid of how perfectly she fits with us.”
“How completely she’ll surrender to us,” River adds, leaning close enough that I can feel the heat radiating fromhim. His fingers tangle in my hair, tugging gently to tilt my face up to his. “Tell us what you’ve never told anyone else,” he whispers. “Tell us what you truly crave.”
Words fail me, but Levi leans in. “She wants what her previous Alpha denied her,” he murmurs, fingers brushing my collarbone. “The claiming. The bond. The mark that announces to the world she belongs to someone.”
“Not someone,” Atlas corrects, his hold tightening possessively. “Us.”
They close in, their heat surrounding me, imprisoning me, and I’m breathless. The pressure of their bodies, hard muscle against my softness, makes me feel small yet powerful in the way they respond to every tiny movement I make.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m begging for.
River’s lips capture mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly turns demanding, consuming. When he pulls back, his eyes are wild. “Tell us you’re ours.”
Levi’s mouth finds the pulse point at my throat, his tongue tasting my skin with deliberate precision. “Say the words, Emma.”
Atlas’s teeth graze my earlobe. “Submit to us.”
“Yes,” I hear myself gasp as some final barrier crumbles inside me. “I’m yours… please…”
As if orchestrated, they move as one. Three sets of teeth find different points on my body—Atlas at the junction of my neck and shoulder, River at my wrist over my racing pulse, and Levi at the sensitive spot just below my ear. The pressure builds, the promise of what I’ve secretly wanted forso long, what Chad always refused to give me—a true claiming. A mark that would bond me forever.
Just as their teeth break skin?—
I gasp for breath, my fingers flying to my neck, my wrist, behind my ear, searching for marks that aren’t there.
God, why do they smell so good? It’s not fair. My stomach flips every time they get close.
“Please, no,” I groan, falling back against the mattress, flashing back on my fantasy, the nest behind me. “Not a scent match. That can’t be.”
Except I know the signs. My grandmother taught me all about them when I presented as an Omega. The inexplicable pull, the way their scents seem designed specifically to appeal to my most primal urges, the heightened awareness whenever they’re nearby.
