Page 52 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Nathaniel

T he apple splits cleanly beneath my knife, its scent crisp and bright in the stillness of the morning. I arrange the slices on a plate, ignoring the contractor updates lighting up my phone.

I can’t focus on work right now. Not with the pack bond humming in my chest. I had grown accustomed to the bond with my bondmates over the last few years, but now a new chord threads through them all, easing a tension I hadn’t realized I carried until it was gone.

After three days lost to rut, bonding with our Omega, I feel...realigned. The uneven ground beneath my feet finally leveled.

A floorboard creaks behind me, and my head lifts as Holden enters the kitchen, barefoot and half- asleep, flannel pajama pants slung low on his hips.

His wild curls frame his face, lending a softness to his features.

Love bites pepper his bare chest as proof of our little Omega’s enthusiasm for the gentlest of our Alphas.

He knuckles sleep from his eyes. “Morning.”

I smirk at him. “Haven’t seen you sleep past dawn in years.”

A flush creeps up his neck as he blinks blearily around the kitchen, unsure for the first time of what he should be doing.

“There’s coffee,” I add, gesturing toward the pot. “Just finished brewing.”

He shuffles to it and pours a cup, inhales the steam, then takes a slow sip. “Any word from Kyle about Quinn?”

“Text came in around six. They’re heading back soon. She caught her first fish.”

A slow grin spreads across his face as he grabs a bowl from the cabinet. “Now she’s going to want to be a fisherman.”

I chuckle. “Kyle would be happy for the company, so long as she doesn’t get tired of being on the water before he’s done for the day.”

More awake now, Holden moves with ease around the kitchen, muscles flexing as he reaches for ingredients. Flour, eggs, milk, vanilla. With practiced efficiency, he whips the batter, the spoon clanking on the sides of the bowl.

“Pancakes?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“Figured we could all use the calories.” He flashes a grin over his shoulder. “Cut up apples for everyone, while you’re at it.”

“Yes, sir.” I grab another from the bowl on the counter and get to work.

The knife slices through the skin, and I line the pieces up with the others. I roll my shoulders, my body aching, muscles pushed beyond their limits during the frenzy of Chloe’s Heat, and smile.

Worth every twinge.

The skillet sizzles as Holden pours the first circle of batter, and the scent of vanilla fills the air, mingling with coffee and the lingering scent of pack pheromones that still clings to our skin.

I want to wake up smelling like this every day for the rest of our lives.

A shuffling sound comes from the doorway, and Chloe pushes through, her pink hair a tangled mess and Blake’s old T-shirt hanging past her knees.

The sight of her stops my breath. Four distinct bites Mark her throat and shoulders, each one a declaration that she belongs to us, and we to her.

She hovers at the threshold, bare toes curling on the hardwood. When her pink eyes find mine, a soft blush colors her cheeks, and her uncertainty comes through our bond, mixed with a bone-deep contentment.

“Hi,” she says, throat raspy from overuse.

“Hi.” Another smile tugs at my lips, and I have a suspicion I’ll be wearing that expression all day. “How are you feeling?”

She eases onto a stool at the counter, moving gingerly. “Like I got hit by a very pleasant truck.”

Holden chuckles, flipping a pancake with a practiced flick of his wrist. “That’s about right.”

I push the plate of apple slices toward her. “Eat. Your body needs to recover.”

Her fingers brush mine as she takes a slice, and a spark travels up my arm. The bond between us pulses, stronger for that brief contact.

She pops the apple into her mouth and moans as she chews. “ Mmm , that tastes incredible.”

“Everything does right after bonding.” Holden slides a plate with a golden pancake in front of her. “Your senses are heightened.”

Blake appears in the doorway next, hair damp from a shower, tied back in a loose bun. Water droplets cling to his beard, and his tattooed arms flex as he stretches.

He crosses to Chloe in three long strides and bends to nuzzle her cheek, inhaling her scent. “How’s your body, sweetheart?”

Before she can answer, Holden slides a steaming mug toward her. “Coffee first. Then interrogation.”

The pack chuckles as Chloe cradles the mug in both hands, inhaling the aroma. “Thank you.”

Blake drops a kiss on her head before moving to the refrigerator. He retrieves a carton of orange juice, pouring himself a glass.

He gestures to the phone on the counter next to me. “Anything go wrong at the job site while we were away?”

“No work talk before breakfast,” Dominic says from the doorway.

He sets a laundry basket piled high with blankets and clothing from Chloe’s nest onto the floor next to the door. His black hair hangs free of its usual braid, the tips brushing his jawline, and a hint of stubble darkens his jaw. Scratches brand his chest, trailing down toward his navel.

Chloe slides off her stool to go to him. “You should be resting.”

“Says the woman who nearly broke my back yesterday.” Dominic leans down to nuzzle her throat over his Mark. “I feel better than I have in weeks.”

As she melts into his touch, the pack bond vibrates with affection, radiating outward to include us all.

“You’re going to hurt yourself carrying laundry,” she protests.

His rumbling laugh fills the kitchen. “After what we did the last three days, laundry isn’t going to be what breaks me.”

Holden flips another pancake onto the growing stack. “Coffee for you?”

He straightens from our Omega. “Yes, please.”

“No!” Chloe wags her finger at him. “You’re still on a caffeine restriction until the doctor says otherwise.”

That earns her a glare. “You’re lucky I love you.”

She flushes bright pink but points an imperious finger at the stools around the counter. “Go sit down.”

Grumbling, he strides to the one on my other side at the island and steals an apple from the plate.

Chloe joins us, and Holden pulls plates from the shelf and syrup from the cupboard. As Blake grabs silverware, Dominic steals his glass of orange juice, finishing it off in three gulps. And through it all, Chloe watches, still a little dazed, as if she can’t quite believe this is her life now .

I lean over to bump her arm with mine. “Still no regrets?”

Her warm gaze meets mine. “Only one.”

My heart stutters, and the other Alphas in the kitchen freeze.

“What are you regretting?” Holden asks for us all.

“That I didn’t give up my apartment lease the last time I was there.” She wrinkles her nose at us. “I could have already been fully moved into the Homestead by now.”

Dominic blows out a relieved breath. “I’ll hire movers today. No need for you to ever go back there.”

Blake claps him on the back. “Good man.”

Holden sets a plate stacked with pancakes in the center of the island. “Dig in before they get cold.”

Blake slides the butter dish toward Chloe first, while Dominic cuts his pancakes into precise squares before drowning them in syrup.

As my pack shares their first meal since the Heat, a new certainty settles over me. Blake had said this was what we were missing, and he was right. We needed Chloe to be complete.

Chloe catches me watching her and tilts her head. “What? ”

“Nothing.” I spear a piece of pancake. “Just happy.”

She nods, understanding without words.

Everything is different now.

And everything is exactly as it should be.

We eat in companionable silence, everyone exhausted but humming with a quiet energy after the last three days.

I wait until forks scrape on empty plates before bringing up the topic I know is weighing most on Blake’s mind, now that the bond with Chloe is secure, even if her familial pack is still an issue.

“Before Quinn gets home, we should discuss how we want to handle Sadie’s visit tomorrow.”

The kitchen falls silent. Chloe’s fork pauses halfway to her mouth. Dominic stops wiping syrup from his plate with a last bite of pancake.

Blake exhales hard, dragging a hand over the top of his head, and damp strands slip loose from his bun to cling to his temples. “Sadie and Mrs. Reynolds will be on the midday ferry.”

Holden rises, gathering empty plates and moving to the sink. The sound of water rushing from the faucet fills the pause. “Who do you want there?”

Blake doesn’t answer right away as he considers the question. Then he leans past me to address Chloe. “I want you there. If Sadie tries to twist things, Quinn’s going to need to see you standing with us.”

Chloe blinks, caught off guard. She traces the rim of her mug, her movements slow, and the ripple of her uncertainty travels through the bond.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. If Sadie isn’t coming here for a fight, I don’t want her to see me and think you’re trying to replace her role in Quinn’s life.” Her head jerks up. “Which I know you’re not doing, but alcohol does horrible things to the mind?—”

“I know, and if Sadie brings that up, I’ll correct her.” Blake reaches past me to take Chloe’s hand. “But you’re pack, so I don’t want you hiding. You matter to Quinn, too.”

“Okay,” Chloe agrees, though she still looks uneasy with the request.

Whatever her feelings, though, she’ll be there if it’s what Blake and Quinn need. That intention rings clear through the bond.

I clear my throat and draw my phone closer. “How about we plan out what we’re going to say? Set a clear front. No matter how the conversation with Sadie goes, Quinn needs to hear from all of us that she’s safe, and that she’s not going anywhere she doesn’t want to go. ”

Dominic folds his arms behind his head, chair creaking as he leans back. “Yeah. That’s what matters most. Consistency. She needs to see we’ve got her. Every single one of us.”