Page 17 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

“I told him the truth. That I valued Nathaniel’s friendship, that I wasn’t trying to come between them, and that they might have room in their dynamic for a third person.

” I shrug. “It was rough for a while, but Blake eventually relaxed. Then, when Holden joined our study group the next semester, things just clicked. The four of us fit together in a way that made sense.”

“A pack,” Chloe says softly.

“Yes. Though we didn’t call it that right away.”

Her fingers twist in her lap. “And then your mother kicked you out because of it? ”

I take a deep breath. “Not exactly. That came after we registered our pack. In the beginning, my mother grudgingly allowed it, but with conditions.”

“What kind of conditions?”

“The main one being that she got to choose our Omega.” The memory still holds bitterness. “She had ideas about suitable matches that would help us maintain certain standards.”

Chloe’s expression darkens. “I can imagine.”

I reach for her hand, relieved when she doesn’t pull away. “She sent a parade of candidates our way. All from ‘good families,’ all groomed to be the perfect corporate wife and mother.”

“And none of them clicked with your pack?”

“One almost did.” I grimace at the memory. “Senior year, after we’d moved into an apartment together. My mother’s final candidate showed up on our doorstep. Impeccable pedigree, designer wardrobe, perfect manners.”

Chloe’s nose wrinkles. “She sounds awful.”

“She wasn’t, not really. Just raised with certain expectations. At first, we thought it might work. The bond didn’t hum, but she was intelligent, driven.” I purse my lips. “And she was already trained in the kind of world Nathaniel, Blake, and I grew up in. It seemed an okay fit. ”

“But?”

“But she couldn’t stand Holden.” The memory still brings a surge of protective anger. “Called him ‘the help’ behind his back because he was always cooking and taking care of the apartment. Suggested we leave him behind when we graduated and upgraded to a proper pack structure.”

Chloe’s hand tightens around mine. “What happened?”

“Blake overheard her talking to her friend on the phone about it. He went ballistic. Confronted her in front of all of us.”

“And you chose Holden.”

“Of course we did. Without hesitation.” I run my thumb over Chloe’s knuckles, marveling at the softness of her skin. “Holden is the heart of our pack. Always has been.”

Understanding flickers across her face.

“My mother didn’t take it well,” I continue, wanting to finish the story. “When we refused to meet any more of her candidates, she gave me an ultimatum. Either I return to the Sterling pack and take the path she’d laid out for me, or I was cut off, both financially and from the family.”

“And you chose your friends,” Chloe says, without a hint of resentment .

“I chose my real family.” I clutch her hand tighter, willing her to understand. “The people who accepted me as I was, not as they wanted me to be.”

Tears shimmer in Chloe’s eyes, reflecting the dim light of her apartment like twin pools of rose quartz. Her bottom lip trembles, and I hate myself for putting that expression on her face.

I didn’t tell my story to see her cry. I reach out, cupping her cheek in my palm, her skin warm and soft beneath my touch. “I’m sorry.” My thumb brushes away a tear that escapes down her cheek. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s not—” She swallows, leaning into my touch. “I just wish you weren’t forced into that choice.”

“Me, too.” I wipe away another tear. “And I wish I’d been brave enough to stand up to my family sooner.”

Her hand lifts to cover mine. “We were children, Dom. Dependent on people who should have protected us instead of tearing us apart.”

“I know.” I lean closer, our foreheads almost touching. “But I wish I’d found my courage earlier.”

“I forgive you,” she whispers, the words going a long way toward healing the hurt between us. “We can’t change the past.”

“No, but we’re here now.”

The space between us shrinks, her breath mingling with mine. Our lips meet in a soft kiss, her mouth warm, tasting faintly of the strawberry lip gloss. I restrain myself from deepening the contact, mindful of her warning to behave.

Chloe pulls back first, her hand pressed to my chest. “Your heart is racing.”

“You tend to have that effect on me.”

A hint of mischief quirks her lips. “You’re supposed to be behaving.”

“This is me behaving. Believe me, the alternative would have us already in the bedroom.”

Her cheeks flush, pink blooming beneath her skin.

The sight emboldens me. If not now, when? The small box has been burning a hole in my pocket all day.

“I have a gift for you.” I sit back, though I don’t go far. “I was waiting for the right moment, but I’m not sure that exists.”

Her expression shifts, curiosity taking hold. “What is it?”

My fingers dip into my pocket, retrieving the small velvet box. It fits in the palm of my hand, unassuming in its navy-blue casing. I hold it out to her, suddenly unsure. “It’s not the same as the one you lost, but I hope you like it.”

Chloe stares at the box, her lips parting in surprise. “Dom…”

“Just open it before I lose my nerve.”

Her fingers brush mine as she takes the box, and a spark jumps between us. She opens it slowly to reveal a platinum four-leaf clover nestled within black velvet. Five gemstones are set into its surface, one at the center and one in each leaf.

“It’s beautiful.” One finger hovers over the pendant without touching it.

“I remembered your astrology phase in middle school.” I watch her face. “Each gemstone represents one of us in the pack.”

“You’re opal, and I’m emerald, but…” She bites her lip before admitting, “I don’t know the others’ birthdays.”

I point to each stone in turn. “Holden is a March baby, so aquamarine for him. Peridot for Nathaniel, who was born in August. And turquoise for Blake, whose birthday is in December, right at the beginning, so he doesn’t have to share it with Christmas.”

Her lower lip catches between her teeth as she stares at the necklace again .

I continue, determined to explain its full meaning before my courage fails. “I know things become hard sometimes, and you struggle with feeling alone. But I wanted you to have a reminder that you’re not. That we’re all here for you. That we’re connected, even when we’re apart.”

A tear splashes onto the velvet, followed by another, and Chloe’s shoulders shake.

“Hey.” Concern fills me at her reaction. “If you’d prefer not to wear?—”

“I love it.” The words come out with a watery hiccup. “I love it so much. It’s perfect.”

Relief floods through me, followed by a wave of tenderness so powerful it nearly knocks me back. I gather her into my arms, her tears dampening my shirt.

“Shh.” I run my hand down her back in slow circles. “No more tears.”

She wipes her face on my shirt. “Happy tears.”

I chuckle, kissing the top of her head. “Still, tears. And they’re getting my shirt all wet.”

She pulls back, swatting at my arm. “You’re ruining the moment.”

“Let me fix that, then.” I take the box from her hand. “May I?”

“Yes.” Chloe turns, presenting her back to me and lifting her pink hair away from her neck .

The vulnerability of the gesture strikes me, the trust implicit in exposing her nape, the delicate line of her spine visible above her collar. I drape the chain around her throat, my fingers brushing her skin as I work the clasp, and goose bumps rise beneath my touch.

My throat tightens as I smooth it into place. “There.”

She turns back to face me, hand rising to touch the clover where it rests in the dip of her collarbone. “How does it look?”

“Perfect.” The necklace comes alive, the gemstones catching the light and reflecting it in tiny prismatic bursts. “It was made for you.”

The bond hums between us, and she leans forward as I do the same. This time, when our lips meet, there’s nothing chaste about it. Her mouth opens under mine, inviting deeper contact, and heat spirals through me as her fingers thread into my hair, tugging me closer.

I lose myself in the kiss, in the taste and texture of her. My hands find her waist, drawing her toward me until she’s almost in my lap. Her nails scrape my scalp, and I groan, the sound swallowed by our kiss.

A sharp knock at the door shatters the moment.

I pull back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, breathing heavily. “I hate delivery in this building.”

She laughs, the sound puffing over my lips. “It’s saving you from getting worked up.”

“I swear I’m not worked up. Let me prove it.”

“Behaving, remember?” She kisses the corner of my mouth before extracting herself from my arms.

“We’re using that app for breakfast tomorrow,” I growl as I follow her off the couch as she smooths her clothes and hair back into place. “No more interruptions for tips.”

“Go get the plates ready. I’ll be right back.” She heads for the door, fingers touching the necklace at her throat.

The sight of her wearing my gift sends a surge of possessive pleasure through me. I head toward the kitchen with a lightness in my step that was missing before. The evening has unfolded in ways I never expected, ways I’d hardly dared hope for.

I retrieve the plates from the drying rack where I left them earlier, imagining the rest of our night together, sharing dinner, another movie, and more kisses. Maybe even falling asleep with her in my arms, without a pillow barrier between us this time.

The sound of a yelp from the living room freezes me mid-motion, followed by a thud as something heavy hits the floor.

Alarm slices through me, and the plates slip from my suddenly numb fingers, clattering onto the counter. “Chloe?”

No response.

I rush back to the living room, my heart thundering. The front door stands open, cool evening air flowing into the apartment. On the floor lies a paper bag, containers of food spilling onto the carpet.

And no sign of Chloe.