Page 21 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

Emily gives a dismissive shrug as she takes her seat, but I catch the pleased quirk of her lips. “Eat while it’s hot.”

We fall into silence as we begin the meal. The bread is dense and hearty, perfect for soaking up the savory broth. A small sound of pleasure escapes Chloe as she takes her first bite, and I catch Emily watching her with satisfaction.

“How was the job site today?” I ask after a few minutes, breaking the comfortable quiet .

Emily snorts, reaching for her water glass. “We’re playing catch-up. Again.” She tears a piece of bread, using it to gesture. “And our thief hasn’t returned. But we’ll hit the deadline, so hurry up with your plans for Phase Two. We’ll be on to the fitness center in no time.”

“Can’t rush art,” I sniff.

“Yeah,” she snorts. “Tell that to Nathaniel.”

I grumble and stuff another spoonful of stew into my mouth.

Chloe slathers butter onto her bread. “How did you return to the mainland with the water taxi down for the night?”

“Caught a ride on the delivery boat bringing in stone for the hardscaping.” Emily takes a bite of stew and chews before continuing. “Some of the crew had to bunk down on the island for the night. They weren’t happy about it.”

Emily typically leads by example, often working longer hours than anyone else. “Why didn’t you stay?”

She gestures around us. “Left the crock-pot on. Didn’t want to burn the house down.”

“I’m glad you came back.” Chloe breathes in deeply. “This is delicious.”

Emily’s cheeks warm, and she clears her throat, focusing intently on her food .

“Your house is beautiful.” Chloe takes in the space, her attention moving from the carved mantle to the window boxes outside. “It’s so cozy and safe.”

The words land with unexpected weight. Emily’s spoon stills in her bowl, her focus on a wedge of potato. Pain flickers across her face, and her throat works before she dips her chin once, then returns to eating.

Sensing the shift in mood, Chloe tenses beside me, and I squeeze her thigh under the table in gentle reassurance. It’s not her fault. Emily’s wounds are old ones, cut deep by circumstances Chloe knows nothing about.

Chloe places her hand over mine, squeezing once before reaching for another piece of bread. “This soda bread is amazing. I could eat the entire basket.”

“Take as much as you want.” Emily’s offer comes out gruff. “Plenty more in the kitchen.”

Chloe reaches for another thick slice and places it on her plate. She takes a bite, her pleasure evident in the way her shoulders relax and her eyelids flutter. The simple food, while surrounded by safety, works magic on her, pulling her back from the edge of fear where Simon had pushed her .

“Save room for ice cream,” Emily adds, watching Chloe with tenderness.

In another Alpha, this attention might raise my hackles and trigger the territorial instinct to warn her away from my future bondmate.

But from Emily, I sense only a genuine desire to provide comfort.

To offer safety. It’s an Alpha’s most basic instinct to protect those who need protection, and it’s been a long time since Emily had an Omega in her home.

After dessert, Emily leads us down a narrow hallway. Family photos line the passage of a younger Emily with others who share her square jaw and steady gaze. No cat pictures here, though, or any pictures taken in her early twenties.

“This is the guest room.” Emily pushes open a door at the end of the hallway and steps aside, one arm extended in invitation.

A queen-sized bed sits in the center of the room, the carved headboard telling a story in its patterns of vines and leaves climbing toward a sun, two birds in flight at the apex. The deep mahogany glows in the warm light of stained-glass, bedside lamps.

Layers upon layers of textiles adorn the bed, a quilt pieced in a pattern of interlocking circles in blues and greens sits beneath a coverlet of cream- colored wool.

Pillows in varying sizes sit stacked near the headboard, each with a different handmade case, some embroidered, others quilted or knitted.

A heavy, chunky-knit blanket in deep forest green rests folded at the foot of the bed.

The walls are painted a soft sage, providing a backdrop for picture frames, a small shelf holding books, and brackets supporting hanging plants with trailing vines.

A window seat beneath a bay window is cushioned in the same blues and greens as the quilt, with hooks on either side holding what appear to be hand-knitted afghans.

The floor is the same pine as the hallway, but here a braided rug in concentric circles of muted colors covers most of it, providing warmth beneath bare feet.

A small fireplace occupies one corner, laid with kindling and logs but not yet lit.

Above it hangs a painting of the ocean at sunset, the brushstrokes bold and confident.

“Oh,” Chloe breathes beside me, the simple syllable laden with wonder. She steps past me into the room, her movements slow as she takes in each detail. “This is beautiful.”

Chloe moves to the bed, her fingers hovering over the coverlet as if afraid to touch it. Then, with a small sound of delight, she buries her palms in it. “It’s so soft. ”

“Changed out the bedding when you called,” Emily tells me, Alpha to Alpha. “Then sprayed everything with scent blocker to neutralize any of my pheromones.”

The consideration touches me. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Emily’s focus drifts past me to where Chloe now sits on the edge of the bed, her small hands stroking the coverlet. The tension in Emily’s posture loosens, and her mouth opens slightly. “It’s nice to see someone enjoying this room.”

I take in the room again, knowing who it was meant for, who Emily had in mind when she carved those birds in flight at the top of the headboard. Who was meant to sleep beneath the quilts she pieced by hand.

“Dominic!” Chloe calls out, pulling me from my thoughts. She’s moved to the foot of the bed, the green blanket now unfolded across her lap. “You have to feel this. It’s the thickest, heaviest blanket I’ve ever touched.”

I cross to her, aware of Emily hovering in the doorway, watching us. The mattress gives beneath my weight as I sit beside Chloe, and she drapes the blanket over my hands, her excitement infectious.

The dense wool is solid without being coarse. Each stitch stands out, perfect in its execution. I picture long winter nights, quiet and focused, hands working steadily by the fire to bring this into being.

“It’s very nice,” I agree, watching Chloe’s face more than the blanket.

My chest tightens at her expression, the fear of the day replaced by this simple joy in tactile comfort. I recognize the Omega instinct to gather soft things and build a safe space. This room, with its layers of fabric and hand-crafted detail, answers that need.

Chloe turns toward Emily. “Where did you buy this?”

The other Alpha shifts her weight, one shoulder lifting in a half-shrug. “Didn’t buy it. Crocheted it myself.”

Chloe’s mouth forms a perfect ‘O’ of surprise. “You made this?” Her fingers trace the intricate pattern of stitches. “It must have taken forever.”

“Two winters,” Emily replies, and for the first time since we arrived, a true smile breaks across her face, transforming her features. “Had a lot of time on my hands.”

Chloe’s expression shifts as she studies the blanket with a new understanding of its value. She runs her palms over it, then buries her face in its folds, inhaling deeply .

“I just want to roll myself up in this,” she says, the wool muffling her words.

A flicker of longing moves through Emily’s expression, and her mouth opens to offer it to Chloe. Then her eyes meet mine, and she gives me an apologetic shrug before closing her lips without speaking.

Relief washes through me. I understand the instinct, but nest-worthy gifts such as blankets, pillows, and soft things carry too much significance. For an Alpha outside the pack to offer such an item to an Omega already being courted would be presumptuous at best, and offensive at worst.

Emily straightens, her hand finding the doorframe. “I’ll show you to the office, Dom. Got a daybed you can use.”

Chloe’s head snaps up, the blanket forgotten. “What?” Her scent shifts from content to anxious in an instant. “You’re not staying with me?”

A groan builds in my chest but never escapes my lips.

The thought of spending the night beside Chloe in that queen-sized bed is everything I want and everything I fear.

I’ve maintained control thus far, but my restraint has limits, especially when she’s finally opening up to me, allowing me to touch, to kiss .

“Chloe…” I search for words that won’t hurt her or come across as a rejection.

But she’s already moving, leaving the blanket behind as she crosses to me, her fingers finding mine. “Please, I don’t want to be alone.”

Her fear unravels my resolve. After everything that happened today with Simon, how can I deny her this comfort? How can I leave her alone in a strange room, no matter how beautiful?

“We can put a pillow between us.” Her thumb traces circles on my palm. “Or I can sleep on top of the covers and you underneath. But please don’t leave me.”

The irony of her trying to set boundaries for my sake, when I’m the one wrestling with the urge to pull her close and not let go, almost draws a laugh. But the raw honesty in her face strips the moment of humor, and I give in without a fight.

“Of course, I’ll stay.” I squeeze her hand. “If that’s what you need.”

The relief that washes over her face makes my choice worth whatever torture awaits me tonight.

Emily clears her throat, drawing our attention back to her. “Bathroom is fully stocked.” She tips her head toward a door on the far wall. “Towels are in the cabinet, fresh soap in the dish, new toothbrush in the top drawer. ”

“Thank you.” Chloe disappears into the bathroom, and the door closes with a soft click, leaving Emily and me alone in the bedroom.

“I’ll stay up,” Emily says without preamble, her voice pitched so it won’t carry through the bathroom door. “I’ll keep an eye out in case you were followed.”

The offer surprises me, though perhaps it shouldn’t. Emily has always been protective of those she considers under her care. Tonight, that includes Chloe, and by extension, me.

“You don’t have to do that?—”

She waves away my protest. “Got some work to catch up on, anyway. And I’m a light sleeper. Any car pulls up outside, I’ll hear it before the tires stop rolling.”

The reassurance settles the anxiety inside me. Despite my protective instincts, having another Alpha as backup, especially one as capable as Emily, eases my mind.

“Thank you,” I say, meaning it for more than just the offer to stand guard. For the meal, for the clean linens and scent blockers, for the sanctuary of this room when we needed it most.

“You’re welcome.” Emily turns to leave, but pauses at the threshold, peering back over her shoulder. “Night light’s in the drawer if she needs it.”

With that, she’s gone, her footsteps fading down the hallway.

I take a deep breath, trying to center myself before Chloe returns. The room is comfortable, but suddenly it’s too small, too intimate.

I want Chloe. I’ve wanted her since high school, but I don’t want her turning to me out of fear or a need for protection.

Tonight, I will lie beside her and keep my hands to myself. I’ll breathe in her scent and not bury my face in her neck. I’ll listen to her breathing slow into sleep and not wake her with kisses.

The bathroom door opens in a puff of steam and the scent of mint toothpaste. Chloe emerges, her face scrubbed clean, her pink hair damp at the temples. She’s changed into a sleep shirt that Emily must have set out, leaving her pale legs bare.

She gestures toward the bathroom. “Your turn.”

I rise, moving past her toward the door, every cell in my body aware of her proximity. As I pass, her hand catches mine, stopping me.

“Thank you.” She rises onto tiptoe to kiss my cheek, her soft lips lingering just long enough to quicken my pulse.

The touch sears through me, demanding more. It takes everything I have to continue into the bathroom without pulling her into my arms.

As I close the door, I catch a glimpse of her moving toward the bed, her hands already reaching for that chunky green blanket at the foot. The sight of her preparing to burrow into the bed where I will join her sends blood rushing south.

Tonight will be the sweetest torture.