Page 67 of Believe It or Knot: Part Two

Curling further into my lap, she tangled her fingers in my hair and pulled me in for a kiss. I let her take the lead for a moment, relishing the feel of her soft lips slanting over mine. The wet glide of her tongue against the seam of my mouth had me growing harder, and I groaned before wrapping her up in my arms. Gathering her hair in one hand, I used it to guide her head. Changing the angle, I deepened the kiss, stealing back control and plundering her mouth.

I damn near came out of my chair when she sucked on my tongue, pressing her ass tightly against my arousal.

“Fuck, that’s my good Little Omega,” I praised as she perfumed for me, needy and aching for more.

The desire to bend her over my desk and drive her to distraction rode me, but the sound of footsteps echoing down the hall brought reality back all too quickly. There wasn’t time, but at least I’d been able to return her scent back to its rich sweetness.

Knox and Thane entered the room, their eyes immediately darkening from the tangle of scents and the delectable aroma of Demi’s arousal in the air.

“To be continued,” I purred quietly.

“I’m going to hold you to that,” she whispered back, boring her gaze into me as though she could engrave the promise on my very soul.

Standing, easily lifting her with me, I carried her bridal style and crossed the room. I passed her to Thane, who pulled her tight against his chest.

“Keep her safe.”

“Always.” He nodded.

With one last inhale of Demi’s rapidly souring scent, I added, “And distracted.”

twenty-two

THANE

Jamison and Knoxhad left two hours ago, and it was impossible not to notice the stress radiating from Demi. Her scent was a riot of too-sweet sugar and berries left in the sun too long.

Sitting on the counter, she swung her legs, trying her best to be good company while I cooked dinner. But I could see it in her eyes—her thoughts kept wandering off as she worried about her missing mates.

No matter our assurances, she couldn’t seem to help herself. My lips parted with my desire to assuage her unease, but then snapped shut as I changed my mind. Telling her again that the guys would be fine would simply fall on ears unwilling to listen. I understood. If the roles were reversed, I’d be in a fucking panic over her safety, too.

Instead of dragging her into meaningless conversation and trying to distract her, I left her to her own devices and hummed as I worked. The tune was catchy and modern, and soon I was singing quietly to myself, hoping that the music would calm her spirit the way it always did for me.

I smiled to myself when I saw her head perk up and felt her eyes on me as I diced the eggplant I’d be using to add robustness to my homemade tomato sauce. The slices weren’t as even, given I was using my left hand to wield the knife thanks to the injuries on my right, but they’d have to do.

I chopped peppers next, then chunks of tomatoes, adding it all into the pot and stirring it over low heat. The whipped ricotta was prepped, and the halibut was ready to sear as soon as I set the sauce to simmer.

Sitting up a little straighter, Demi braced her palms on the counter and curled her fingers over the edge. “Where did you learn to sing like that?”

“Nowhere, really,” I admitted. “I never had formal training. It’s just something I picked up as a kid.”

Demi gaped, shaking her head slowly. “Thane, that’s incredible. I swear you have perfect pitch. That’s a gift.”

“Nah.” I shrugged. “I just do it to pass the time while I’m cooking.”

“A hobby within a hobby? I feel like there’s more to the story.” She tilted her head to the side. “Will you tell me?”

Unease twisted through me. Sharing my past and getting vulnerable were things I rarely did. I was the fun packmate. The lighthearted relief. I was trying to brighten Demi’s mood, not drag her down with my pathetic sob story. And, yet, denying my mate anything she asked was practically impossible.

Way to go, Thane, I chastised as I concentrated on chopping the fresh herbs.

Really, I should be over my lousy childhood by now. I was a grown-ass man, not a little kid waiting on his parents to decide they gave a shit.

Besides, my story wasn’t nearly as traumatizing as Hades’. She’d probably think I was overly sensitive. How had I gotten myself into this mess?

“Darling,” I hedged, trying to ease out of the impending conversation and find a way back to safer, happier waters. We’d had enough heavy stuff for one day.

I would sing for her or make her favorite snacks. Hell, I’d been dying to lay her back against the marbled countertop, rip her little shorts off, and makeherthe meal as I feasted on her delicious pussy.

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