Page 48 of Down Knot Out
Chloe reaches for another thick slice and places it on her plate. She takes a bite, her pleasure evident in the way her shoulders relax and her eyelids flutter. The simple food, while surrounded by safety, works magic on her, pulling her back from the edge of fear where Simon had pushed her.
“Save room for ice cream,” Emily adds, watching Chloe with tenderness.
In another Alpha, this attention might raise my hackles and trigger the territorial instinct to warn her away from my future bondmate. But from Emily, I sense only a genuine desire to provide comfort. To offer safety. It’s an Alpha’s most basic instinct to protect those who need protection, and it’s been a long time since Emily had an Omega in her home.
After dessert, Emily leads us down a narrow hallway. Family photos line the passage of a younger Emily with others who share her square jaw and steady gaze. No cat pictures here, though, or any pictures taken in her early twenties.
“This is the guest room.” Emily pushes open a door at the end of the hallway and steps aside, one arm extended in invitation.
A queen-sized bed sits in the center of the room, the carved headboard telling a story in its patterns of vines and leaves climbing toward a sun, two birds in flight at the apex. The deep mahogany glows in the warm light of stained-glass, bedside lamps.
Layers upon layers of textiles adorn the bed, a quilt pieced in a pattern of interlocking circles in blues and greens sits beneath a coverlet of cream-colored wool. Pillows in varying sizes sit stacked near the headboard, each with a different handmade case, some embroidered, others quilted or knitted. A heavy, chunky-knit blanket in deep forest green rests folded at the foot of the bed.
The walls are painted a soft sage, providing a backdrop for picture frames, a small shelf holding books, and brackets supporting hanging plants with trailing vines. A window seat beneath a bay window is cushioned in the same blues and greens as the quilt, with hooks on either side holding what appear to be hand-knitted afghans.
The floor is the same pine as the hallway, but here a braided rug in concentric circles of muted colors covers most of it, providing warmth beneath bare feet. A small fireplace occupies one corner, laid with kindling and logs but not yet lit. Above it hangs a painting of the ocean at sunset, the brushstrokes bold and confident.
“Oh,” Chloe breathes beside me, the simple syllable laden with wonder. She steps past me into the room, her movements slow as she takes in each detail. “This is beautiful.”
Chloe moves to the bed, her fingers hovering over the coverlet as if afraid to touch it. Then, with a small sound of delight, she buries her palms in it. “It’s so soft.”
“Changed out the bedding when you called,” Emily tells me, Alpha to Alpha. “Then sprayed everything with scent blocker to neutralize any of my pheromones.”
The consideration touches me. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” Emily’s focus drifts past me to where Chloe now sits on the edge of the bed, her small hands stroking the coverlet. The tension in Emily’s posture loosens, and her mouth opens slightly. “It’s nice to see someone enjoying this room.”
I take in the room again, knowing who it was meant for, who Emily had in mind when she carved those birds in flight at the top of the headboard. Who was meant to sleep beneath the quilts she pieced by hand.
“Dominic!” Chloe calls out, pulling me from my thoughts. She’s moved to the foot of the bed, the green blanket now unfolded across her lap. “You have to feel this. It’s the thickest, heaviest blanket I’ve ever touched.”
I cross to her, aware of Emily hovering in the doorway, watching us. The mattress gives beneath my weight as I sit beside Chloe, and she drapes the blanket over my hands, her excitement infectious.
The dense wool is solid without being coarse. Each stitch stands out, perfect in its execution. Ipicture long winter nights, quiet and focused, hands working steadily by the fire to bring this into being.
“It’s very nice,” I agree, watching Chloe’s face more than the blanket.
My chest tightens at her expression, the fear of the day replaced by this simple joy in tactile comfort. I recognize the Omega instinct to gather soft things and build a safe space. This room, with its layers of fabric and hand-crafted detail, answers that need.
Chloe turns toward Emily. “Where did you buy this?”
The other Alpha shifts her weight, one shoulder lifting in a half-shrug. “Didn’t buy it. Crocheted it myself.”
Chloe’s mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ of surprise. “You made this?” Her fingers trace the intricate pattern of stitches. “It must have taken forever.”
“Two winters,” Emily replies, and for the first time since we arrived, a true smile breaks across her face, transforming her features. “Had a lot of time on my hands.”
Chloe’s expression shifts as she studies the blanket with a new understanding of its value. She runs her palms over it, then buries her face in its folds, inhaling deeply.
“I just want to roll myself up in this,” she says, the wool muffling her words.
A flicker of longing moves through Emily’s expression, and her mouth opens to offer it to Chloe. Then her eyes meet mine, and she gives me an apologetic shrug before closing her lips without speaking.
Relief washes through me. I understand the instinct, but nest-worthy gifts such as blankets, pillows, and soft things carry too much significance. For an Alpha outside the pack to offer such an item to an Omega already being courted would be presumptuous at best, and offensive at worst.
Emily straightens, her hand finding the doorframe. “I’ll show you to the office, Dom. Got a daybed you can use.”
Chloe’s head snaps up, the blanket forgotten. “What?” Her scent shifts from content to anxious in an instant. “You’re not staying with me?”
