Page 76 of Knot So Lucky

Am I actually scent-matched with him? Or was that just a hallucination brought on by trauma and adrenaline and the particular cocktail of drugs they administered when I was brought in?

The memory of his scent—sandalwood and steel, gasoline and vanilla—rises unbidden, and my Omega instincts respond with a yearning that feels embarrassingly intense for someone I barely know.

"You don't need to feel pressured," Roran says quietly, and the gentleness in his voice makes me look up to meet his storm-green eyes—identical to mine, mirror images staring at each other. "Because of the circumstances, I mean. If you're not comfortable with any of this, you can say no."

The fact that he's giving me an out makes something warm bloom in my chest.

Because he's right—I could say no.Could claim the scent match was a mistake, that I'm not interested in pack bonding, that I want to maintain my independence and complicated situationship with Cale instead of diving into something new and terrifying.

But would I be saying no because I genuinely don't want it?

Or because I'm scared?

"It's a bit odd," I admit, picking at the edge of the hospital blanket with restless fingers. "I'm used to ignoring my feelings. Suppressing them literally and figuratively. But this seems different."

Roran leans forward slightly, attention focused entirely on me.

"I feel this yearning for him," I continue, the confession coming easier than expected. Maybe because it's Roran, who shares my DNA and half my soul. "But I don't know him. At all. We've had maybe five minutes of actual conversation at best..."

The absurdity of the situation hits me, and I let out a weak laugh.

"But I slept so comfortably in his arms," I whisper, the admission feeling vulnerable in ways I usually avoid. "I didn't even realize I could sleep like that. Without nightmares or hypervigilance or waking up every hour to check my surroundings."

Roran nods slowly, crossing his arms as he processes this information.

"I don't really understand how it would feel," he says thoughtfully. "Haven't found my Omega yet, so I can only go off what I've read and what other bonded people describe. But if he gives you a level of peace just by his presence..." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "He could most certainly be the one."

The one.

The phrase carries weight that makes my chest constrict.

We share a look—understanding passing between us without need for elaboration. The knowledge that this could change everything. That scent matches are rare and precious and not something to dismiss lightly, even when the timing is catastrophically inconvenient.

The door opens, interrupting our moment.

Cale appears in the doorway, and immediately the energy in the room shifts. His scent—burnt cedar and dark coffee—fills the space with familiar comfort, but there's something off abouthis body language. Tension in his shoulders. Carefully controlled expression that suggests he's fighting to maintain composure.

"Richard requested I come back for trials or some shit," he grumbles, not quite meeting my eyes.

The awkwardness radiating off him is palpable.

He's clearly trying to respect whatever's happening with the scent match situation, trying to give me space to explore this new connection without interference. But the reluctance is just as strong—written in every line of his body, every careful word he doesn't say.

My heart aches at the sight.

I need to talk to him.Alone. Need to address whatever complicated emotions are churning beneath the surface before they calcify into something that can't be fixed.

"Roran," I say sweetly, employing the tone I use when I need a favor. "Can you get me coffee?"

My twin's eyes narrow with immediate suspicion.

"You have an IV. You're not supposed to have coffee."

"I'mdyingwithout coffee," I counter dramatically. "Withering away as we speak. Besides, I'll just unhook the IV myself if you don't help me."

"That's a terrible medical decision?—"

"Since when do I make good medical decisions?" I arch an eyebrow. "You saw me get in that car, right? Pretty sure my judgment is consistently questionable."