Page 113 of Down Knot Out
She holds her breath, then drops the pillow and moves on to my hoodie, draped over the back of the sofa. She lifts it, sniffs the collar, and hums with happiness, like she solved some secret equation. The hoodie gets tucked under her arm.
“That’s mine.” The words slip out before I can stop them, and my cheeks flush when she startles.
But she doesn’t put it back. If anything, she’s huffy at the interruption.
“It smells like you made pancakes while wearing it.” Her hands tighten on the hoodie as she lifts it to her nose and breathes in again. “Why do I crave cake now?”
“Probably because my pheromones have a vanilla base?” I set down the towel as she rounds the ottoman, scanning for more treasures.
She grabs Blake’s ancient flannel, half-buried in a basket of clean laundry, and then Nathaniel’s favorite throw pillow for movie nights. By the time she steps out of the living room, her arms are overflowing with the pack’s belongings.
Quinn comes through the doorway from the main house, and she freezes when she spots Chloe’s armload. “Are you moving out, Aunt Chloe?”
Chloe’s grip tightens on the pile. “No, princess. Just housekeeping.”
Satisfied with the answer, Quinn shrugs and vanishes.
Chloe pivots to head toward her room, but pauses when she spots me still standing in the hall. My pulse jumps. Her scent, always so floral, nowcarries a new note of honey sweetness that has my mouth watering and my jaw aching.
With an unsteady breath, I step backward to open the way to her bedroom.
With a slow blink at me, she waddles into her bedroom under her burden and closes the door with a soft click.
I linger, the new scent drifting from under the door. The effect on me tightens my chest, and a low, persistent hum comes from the bond that leaves me confused about what I was doing before now.
I should go down and pull the bread from the oven, or finish folding towels, or doanythingelse, but my feet don’t move.
After a minute of hesitation, I crack the door open.
Chloe kneels in the center of the room, surrounded by a nest of blankets and pillows arranged in careful layers. My hoodie lies balled in the corner, and her frog onesie rests folded beside Blake’s old camp quilt.
She stretches out along the outer curve, testing the boundaries with small adjustments. Every movement holds a feline grace, even the way she reaches to tug the edge of a blanket higher on her shoulders.
I hover in the doorway, reluctant to break the quiet, but she senses me.
“Holden,” she says, soft as the fleece under her cheek.
“Yeah?”
She peers over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. “I just needed somewhere that reminds me of all of you.”
My throat closes up, and my hands fist at my sides.
She pats the space beside her. “You can come in, if you want.”
Heart pounding, I step inside. The warm air carries the layered pheromones of the pack, sweet and woody and citrus and smoke, all woven together. The scent of her Heat hovers just beneath, building like a summer storm.
“You good?” I kneel beside her. My hands want to reach out, but I’m not sure what she needs from me right now.
She rolls to her back, hair fanning out on the pillow. “I’m fine. I just…needed to feel close, you know?”
My throat thickens. “I do.”
She pulls my hoodie closer, rubs her face along the sleeve. “Are you going to lie down with me?”
I swallow hard. “There’s bread in the oven, and I need to watch Quinn.”
She stretches and pulls Nathaniel’s pillow closer. “Okay. I’m going to nap for a bit, if that’s all right?”
