"The house is this way," Cal calls, amusement threading through his voice like warm honey.
I stop.
Turn.
Glare.
All three of them are watching me with varying degrees of intensity.
Rafe, now wearing sweats slung low on his hips—still no shirt, because apparently he's allergic to fabric—looks like he's already planning my corruption. Cal has that gentle-giant thinggoing on that makes my traitorous Omega hindbrain want to curl up in his lap and never leave.
And Étienne...
Étienne is clutching a worn paperback to his chest, storm-blue eyes soft with something that looks dangerously like understanding.
Like recognition.
As if he sees past the armor I've spent thirteen years building and finds something worth protecting underneath.
"Fine." I hike my purse higher on my shoulder and square my shoulders like I'm heading into battle—which, let's be honest, I probably am."Lead the way. But I want it on the record that this is temporary. Six weeks. I'm here for the ice, not the—" I gesture vaguely at all of them, at the steam and muscle and concentrated Alpha pheromones making my head spin. "This."
"Noted." Rafe falls into step beside me, close enough that his scent wraps around me like a claiming. His voice drops low enough that only I can hear, rough and intimate and devastatingly sincere: "But just so you know,MaeBell—I've been waiting thirteen years to prove I'm not that kid anymore. Six weeks? That's plenty of time."
My heart stutters.
What is there to fucking prove? That you were an asshole? The only difference now is you're older, hotter, six fucking pack with thosetraitorousV-lines pointing to that thick, veiny…
UGH!
My body betrays me with a fresh wave of slick. And my brain—the only part of me with any sense left—screams a warning I should probably heed:
You're in so much trouble.
Six weeks just got a whole lot knottier.
And Valentine's Day? Right around the corner, covered in roses, chocolates, and heart-shaped promises—plus the smallmatter of my twenty-fifth birthday and a deadline that's ticking down like a bomb strapped to my future.
Three Alphas.
One tiny house.
Zero escape routes.
No pressure or anything.
Happy Knotty Valentine's Day to me.
CHAPTER 1
Welcome To Chaos
~MABELINE~
"There you are."
A tall woman stands in front of a golden door, arms crossed, heels planted like she's been waiting for us since the dawn of time. Her hair is swept into a sleek bun that screams 'I have my life together and you clearly do not,' and her blazer is the kind of structured perfection that makes me acutely aware of the blue raspberry stains still clinging to my jeans.
Rafe groans beside me.
