Page 17 of Knot the Stray

I stay locked inside her for several long minutes. The knot at the base of my cock deflates. I ease my hips back, pulling my soft length free of her wet heat.

Jake withdraws from behind her a second later. “I’ll grab some towels from the bathroom.”

Edward brushes a tangled strand of hair from her cheek. “She did incredible.”

Jake returns with a stack of warm, damp washcloths. “Let’s get her cleaned up so she can sleep.”

I take a washcloth and clean the slick and lube from Jessie’s thighs. My chest swells with an intense, protective urge. I want to keep her safe. I want to make sure she never feels the need to hide her designation again.

I toss the dirty towel into the plastic hamper near the closet. I grab the edge of the soft quilt. I pull it up over her shoulders, tucking the fabric around her small frame.

I slide under the covers beside her. I pull her back flat against my chest, wrapping my arm around her waist. She lets out a content sigh, tucking her face into my neck.

Jake climbs onto the mattress on her other side. “She needs the rest.”

Edward settles onto the sheets behind me. He stretches out on his back, lacing his hands behind his head. “I could get used to this.”

I keep my arm wrapped around Jessie’s waist. “Me too. She belongs right here.”

The truth of his words settles deep in my chest. We surround her, keeping her grounded and safe in the center of the pack.

I listen to the sound of the rain outside; her breathing evens out as she falls into a deep sleep. I lean forward and press a soft kiss to her temple. I’m satisfied. We found our Omega, and we aren’t letting her go.

Need to Leave

Jessie

Bright morning sunlight streams through the gaps in the bedroom blinds. The storm blew over at some point during the night. The rain and howling wind vanished, leaving the apartment in silence.

I blink my eyes open and stare at the popcorn ceiling. The frantic, desperate need that hijacked my brain yesterday burned out. A stark clarity sharpens my mind. Because my heat was a spontaneous spike triggered by fake suppressants, it hit and vanished just as fast.

A persistent soreness settles deep in my thighs. A tender ache radiates through my stretched core. Every breath I take pulls the rich scent of their pack into my lungs. The aroma of fig, clove, vetiver, and dark tea saturates the sheets and coats my skin. Last night, that scent offered safety. Today, it suffocates me.

I turn my head on the pillow. On one side, Nolan sleeps on his back. His face looks relaxed, and his glasses sit on the nightstand. Edward stretches out flat on his back on the far side of Nolan, taking up the edge of the mattress. He rests one arm behind his head, snoring a soft, steady rhythm. The space on my other side is empty. Jake is missing; the sheets where he slept are already cool. I don’t know where he went, and my panicked mind lacks the capacity to care. Nolan and Edward still form a wall of heat and muscle, trapping me against the mattress.

Cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. The walls of the small apartment close in on me. My pulse hammers a frantic beat against my ribs. Memories of the night play back in my head. I let them into my apartment. I let them into my bed. I took every single thing they gave me without a fight. We knotted. We spent hours locked together in a chaotic mess of sweat and slick. I gave up control.

They promised me my career was safe in Willowside. They swore the town council wouldn’t care about my designation. Their promises don’t mean shit to me. I spent years in the foster system learning one absolute truth. Trusting other people gets me hurt. Relying on anyone else means giving up my power. I remember packing my clothes into black plastic trash bags in the middle of the night. I swore I would never let anyone dictate my life again.

A true scent match demands permanent roots. It forces a bond. If I stay here, I lose the independence I built my entire life around. I refuse to become a stay-at-home mate, tied to this small town and these three Alphas forever. The thought terrifies me. I refuse to give up my van, my mobile clinics, and my freedom.

That Ford Transit represents my entire world. It holds my surgical tools, my bed, and my escape route. The open road offers my only sanctuary. I can take a contract in Nevada or Wyoming. I can disappear by nightfall and start over somewhere else. The veterinary board needs doctors all over the country. I don’t need a pack to survive. I need my tools, my skills, and a full tank of gas. I need to get out of this town right now.

I focus on my breathing. I keep it slow and shallow. I need to untangle myself without waking the two of them up.

I slide my hips toward the empty space Jake left behind, holding my breath. I ease my legs free of the tangled sheets, avoiding the sprawl of Nolan’s legs. I slip off the edge of the mattress without making a sound. My bare feet hit the hardwood floor.

The cool morning air raises goosebumps on my naked skin. I survey the mess on the rug. Discarded clothes sit in scattered piles from our rush to get into bed. I spot my dark scrub pants hooked over the edge of a wooden chair and my v-neck scrub top crumpled near a pair of work boots. I grab my clothes.

I refuse to stand naked in front of them for another second, even if they sleep through the noise. I carry my scrubs and my boots into the small bathroom and shut the door with a soft click.

I dress in a rush. I skip my bra and just pull the stiff cotton scrub top over my head. I shiver as the cold fabric brushes against my tender skin. I yank the drawstring pants up over my sore thighs and shove my feet into my boots, skipping the socks.

I turn the cold water tap on and splash my face. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My dark hair sticks out in wild tangles. Dark circles frame my wide, terrified eyes. I look like a cornered animal. The sheer magnitude of my fuck-up sends a fresh spike of panic through my chest.

My breath hitches. I grip the edges of the porcelain sink, my knuckles turning white. I grab a washcloth, soak it in cold water, and scrub at my neck. I try to wash their thick scent off my skin, but the fig and spice cling to my pores. It burns like a brand. I drop the wet cloth into the sink. I need to leave.

Now.