Page 38 of Ready or Knot

“Will my piercings be ok?” she asks. “The tragus one tends to close quickly.”

Carter frowns, and I shrug.

“Let me text Ashlynn. She has a few,” Logan says, pulling his phone from his back pocket.

I lace my fingers with hers, and she leans into me, resting her head against my arm.

“This feels really expensive for something I might not even be good at doing,” she admits after a moment, quietly enough that only the three of us hear her. “I didn’t quite realize how much equipment I would need.”

Carter steps in front of her, taking her other hand in a tight grip.

“We don’t mind, Faedra,” he says, and she nods, her hair brushing against my Oxford. I run my thumb along the back of her hand.

“I’ll pick out some cheaper furniture to offset it, at least,” she says.

I shake my head, squeezing her hand.

“We said anything you like,” I murmur into her hair. “Trust me when I say we have the funds for it.”

She blows out a breath before giving a soft acknowledgment. Logan pulls her away from me, guiding her around the small try-on space, murmuring something that has her giggling. When they make it back to us, she stretches her neck and Logan unclips the straps of the pack, helping her out of it and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head. She leans into him, her mouth parting, but just as she’s about to speak, Logan’s phone rings, cutting her off.

He glances at it and sighs. “It’s Ben. I’ll find you all when I’m done.”

Without a glance back, he strides out of the shop, heading toward the car. Faedra glances around, tension bleeding into her limbs, and she takes a step into Carter, seemingly unintentionally. The people are starting to get to her even if she doesn’t realize it yet. Carter catches my gaze and nods towards the cafe attached to the camping supply store. It’s still crowded, but the outdoor seating looks to have room.

“Why don’t you go get something to drink while I take care of all of this?” Carter asks, keeping his voice low. Faedra takes a deep breath and understanding flashes across her eyes.

“That crept up. How did you notice before I did?” she asks, her lips bunching into a pout, a thin line forming between her eyes as she lowers her eyebrows.

I set my hand on the small of her back. “Instinct, remember?”

Once we’re in the cafe, Faedra blows out a breath.

“This is…very different from how I normally feel,” she admits, rubbing her arms.

FAEDRA

Jude nods, his expression nearly stern in what I’m beginning to think is his normal expression. I suppose if women can have RBFs, so can men—and Jude would be the prime example of one. My skin still crawls, though the feeling is less now that we stand in line in the moderately busy cafe. Crowds haven’t ever been such an issue, and I struggle to reorient myself to the reality that I’ve nearly panicked twice now in them.

“Suppressants are known to be very effective,” Jude offers as the person in front of us is called forward to order. “It’ll take a bit to feel like you’ve reached equilibrium off of them.”

The other barista calls us forward, and I order my standard: a tall iced vanilla latte with a pump of peppermint. Jude orders a simple caramel macchiato as he slips his hand around mine and laces our fingers together, paying for the drinks and moving to the side without losing the contact. For whatever reason, the extended touch calms me more than just moving away from the people.

Another moment where the realities of being Omega are more jarring than I expected. I’ve known Omegas need contact from Alphas, especially if they’ve bonded, but it’s not something I’ve ever truly desired until being here in Denver with the guys.

Once we have our drinks, Jude leads me outside and helps me into one of the patio chairs. When he settles into the chair across from me, he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls the sleeves to his elbows.

Which is just completely unfair. Heat rushes through me, my chest warming with an intense blush. Jude glances up at me, and he cocks an eyebrow, pausing for a heartbeat before finishing the second sleeve. I manage to take an unsteady breath as he takes a sip of his drink. My gaze catches on another small script tattoo along the base of his right wrist.

“What does that one say?” I ask.

He twists his wrist so the black lettering is more visible, but it’s upside down. I shake my head and look back at him.

“Memento vivere,” he murmurs, his rough voice skating over my skin, eliciting a small shiver down my spine. “It means remember to live.”

I swallow. “Did you get that one after your sister, too?”

“No. Carter and I got them after we made the choice to file the paperwork with the Council to officially become a pack,” he says. “It wasn’t the best time, and Logan said we should have a reminder that life can be meaningful.”

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