Page 16 of Knot Alone

Linus whips his head around. “Really?”

“Yes.” I’d like to meet the man who has Linus so love-struck that he’s an Alpha in a happy, devoted marriage with another Alpha. An Alpha who is so constantly thinking of his mate that it didn’t cross his mind that he might not have said the other man’s name out loud.

A relieved smile breaks across his face. The biggest one I’ve seen. It changes all the lines of Linus’ expression and takes a weight off his shoulders. He is so handsome.

Linus looks out the window. Then, with just a touch of hesitation, he reaches out and puts his hand on the center seat, like a cat pretending it’s not looking for pets. It’s adorable. It makes me want to run my hands through his hair and tell him that everything is going to be all right.

But I don’t know that. Right now, it’s enough to reach out and take Linus’ hand in mine with a squeeze that he returns with a relieved sigh.

Chapter Five

Maggie

The remaining ride to Linus’ house is a matter of minutes. The driver takes us off the main roads and into one of the old, Victorian neighborhoods. Everything is reddish-orange brick, with bay windows, and white trim. We come to a stop before one of the row houses. It has a rock wall and an archway covered with vines just beginning to bud.

I’m so occupied with staring out the window at the unexpectedly plush garden that Linus’, “You can leave, if you want,” makes me jump. “I won’t begrudge you.”

I give his hand a squeeze before I step out into the late twilight. Linus slides across the back seat and re-takes my hand to lead me through the front gate. There’s gentle pressure from his fingertips on the small of my back, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch anymore.

He guides me through the front door. The first thing I notice isn’t the black and white tile of the foyer or the bundle of jackets hanging up by the door with no concern for Instagram aesthetics.

It’s the scent.

Linus’ chocolate is a hundred times stronger here, richer because of the breadth of emotions he feels in his own home. Yes, there’s the undercurrent of nutmeg lust. But there’s also cinnamon, hazelnut, and the tasty bitterness of dark chocolate with the smooth sweetness of milk.

But the scent isn’t just his chocolate.

The house smells like… granola?

No. Not that. But something salty and filling. My brain is thinking of pretzels, but that’s too salty.

I’ve never… people’s scents are usually easy to parse. Especially for Omegas, since evolution protects us with a better sense of smell. We usually get a clear and definitive scent for people upon first meeting. Then, like everyone else, as we know someone better, we find different shades of their emotions, like Linus and his nutmeg of arousal. But this new scent… it’s the first time in my life I haven’t been able to put an instant name to someone’s core aroma.

I’m so consumed with puzzling it out that I don’t notice Linus calling, “Darling, we’re home!” I miss the handsomest man I’ve ever seen coming down the hall until he’s right in front of me and I have to crane my neck back to look up the foot in height between us.

“Maggie,” Graham rumbles. He takes my hands and brings them up to kiss the back of my knuckles. “Thank you for coming home, even though Linus is an idiot.”

Graham’s face is right there, blue eyes so crystalline that they’ve got flecks of white. Honest to goodness, it feels like it would be the most natural thing in the world to go up on my tip-toes and kiss him. If meeting Linus was like being struck by lightning, Graham is like being caught in a riptide. I think I might go anywhere he takes me.

“Come on. I made dinner for you two so you can recover from the exercise.”

I blush, and Graham drops another kiss to my knuckles. He keeps my hands in his as he leads me down the hall. I glance over my shoulder at Linus, who raises his eyebrow like: ‘See, he did it to you, too.’

The hallway to the kitchen is short, stepping past a well-appointed sitting room that I imagine is only used by Linus’ fancy guests. A swinging door like they have in restaurants keeps the kitchen private from a clear view to the front entrance. Which means I’m a little blind-sided when I walk in.

The kitchen is both chic and… homey. It’s got the standard marble countertops with on-trend white cabinets and floating shelves. But there’s a massive butcher block cutting board on the island, and a Kitchen Aid tucked in the corner beside half a dozen jars with different flours. The L-shaped counter separates the kitchen from a table centered before sliding glass doors that lead out to the back garden. Wire towers full of plants block most of the doors, all of them with popsicle sticks declaring them mint, rosemary, and other herbs. Graham all but lifts me onto one of the island stools since we can’t sit at the large kitchen table. Rows of seedlings cover the battered wood, all of them sprouted and waiting for warmer weather.

It’s nothing at all like I expected of two men. Since Linus is the person I know best right now, I look at him, but Linus points at Graham. “All him. I’m a plant killer.”

Graham. Graham, who is taller than me by a good foot, and who is—to steal a phrase from my grandfather—built like a brick shithouse. And who is dishing up three bowls of the best-smelling risotto I’ve found in my entire life.

“Do you like spring peas?” Graham asks over his broad shoulder.

“I thought you were making pasta tonight?” Linus asks as he joins me at the counter, leaving the stool between us for Graham. “He makes his own pasta.” Linus stage whispers, his tone more fact than brag.

“One: pasta is not a first-date food, Linus. No one looks handsome when they eat pasta and handsome is what we’re going for. Two,” Graham turns around, balancing the bowls like a server, “Risotto is filling but not heavy, and tonight is not a night for food comas.” Graham winks at me and I blush. No, I didn’t misinterpret the implication.

He sets my bowl down and my “Thank you” is more of a murmur than words. He sets Linus’ bowl before the empty stool and nudges his husband over with a kiss. Then Graham takes the now-empty stool and moves it around the counter’s corner. This puts me in the middle and makes it so I don’t have to awkwardly lean to make eye contact. Linus moves with no objection, just a beat before he says, “Ah,” like he needs the moment to catch up. Their quiet camaraderie speaks volumes about their relationship. Yet Graham’s bright smile keeps me from feeling like an intruder.

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