Page 209 of Knot Baked Out For This
I rose like a phoenix from the ashes, and I'm never going back.
I'm home.
Finally, completely, permanently home.
And that's exactly where I'm supposed to be….
CHAPTER 37
Knottedly Ever After…
~HAZEL~
Idon’t remember falling asleep, but I don’t wake so much as combust.
The first thing I notice is heat—radiating up from every inch of skin, pooling between my thighs, setting my pulse to “frantic bunny on Red Bull.” Candles flicker in puddles of gold along the old barn’s beams, shadows dancing across mound after mound of blankets. Rain spits against the windowpanes, a steady percussion that matches the need throbbing through me, which is…unfair.
My nest’s gotten cozy. Excessive. I’m surrounded on all sides by plush and flannel and pillows, every inch steeped in pumpkin cream and brown sugar and—no, that’s not right.
My own scent’s shifted. It’s heady, dark at the edges—smoked caramel and cinnamon bark, wild and desperate. Every slow, humid inhale tangles in my chest, dizzy and sweet and a little unhinged.
I curl into myself, shivering as the heat spikes and then drops, hot-cold-hot like my hormones can’t pick a lane. My thighs clench together, but it just makes everything worse, friction catching along slick skin, every nerve ending singing.There’s an ache low in my belly that says “do something” but the rest of me is stuck in a haze of want.
I whimper. Pathetic. One squirming sound, and it echoes in the candlelit quiet, bouncing off barn walls like it’s a distress call.
It works. The next thing I know, the barn’s side door creaks—and in slink the cavalry.
Levi and Luca.
Of course it’s the twins. They’re always first in a crisis—though “crisis” might just be a code word for “Hazel’s gone full Omega, please send snacks and also dicking.”
They pause at the threshold, and for one weird, suspended second, I see what they see: me, nested in the dead center, blankets bunched at my hips, knees drawn up, hair wild, eyes probably too bright. And my scent—oh, even I know it’s pulsing out, thick and sticky as molasses. Both their gazes go dark, pupils blown, mouths curving like this is the best breakfast they’ve ever walked into.
Levi grins first, bright and cocky, and I see his chest expand as he tastes the air.
“No warning?” he says, which is rich coming from the man who once set off a Heat alarm at the Honey Lantern Café by just existing.
My voice is mostly a gasp. “Couldn’t—” I squirm. “—help it.”
“You never have to help it with us,” Luca says, softer, but already moving with purpose.
They reach the nest at the same time, dropping boots at the edge because apparently even Alphas have nest manners, and then they’re crawling in on either side. The bed dips, blankets tighten, and I’m sandwiched in a heartbeat: Luca’s larger, steadier hand skimming my bare thigh, Levi’s hot breath already teasing my neck and jaw.
It’s a blitz. Synchronized, practiced, absolutely unfair.
Levi claims my mouth, deep and slow, tongue sliding in like he’s trying to map my pulse from the inside. I arch into him and immediately die, but it’s fine, he catches me. His hands aren’t gentle—they’re possessive, cupping my breast through the threadbare tank I wore to bed, thumb circling until the fabric’s pointless.
“Off,” he mutters, and before I can protest, he’s yanked the shirt up and over, baring me to the candlelight and the twins’ greedy gaze.
I try to cover myself, but Luca tuts. “Don’t hide. Not here.” He hooks my fingers, kissing the back of my knuckles before dragging them down to rest at my side. “Let us.”
Let them. Like I could say no now.
Levi’s mouth is instantly at my breast, licking and teasing and teeth just shy of pain, his stubble sparking shivers everywhere he touches. I moan—a real, helpless sound—and my hips jerk up, seeking…something.
Luca’s already there. One of his hands slides between my knees, gentle at first, then definite, parting my thighs. His other arm braces under my back, anchoring me, as if I might float away.
I can’t see his face, but I feel his inhale—the deliberate drag of my scent up his nostrils. There’s a hitch, a growl curling low in his throat, and then his mouth is everywhere: kissing, licking, the flat of his tongue painting heat over my inner thigh, up and up until he finds the pulse of slick at my core.
