Page 33 of Knot Their Safe Haven (The Omega Rebellion Movement #3)

"Maybe," she whispered, her breath tickling the shell of my ear as she leaned closer, "I want to see what happens when Alessandro Lucien Devereaux stops being a gentleman.

" The way she pronounced my full name—deliberately, with an edge of challenge—felt like she was reciting an incantation instead of a dare.

Her hand fisted in my hair, tugging my face closer until our lips were a bare millimeter apart.

I could taste the residual berry flavor from Alexis's kiss, mingling with Velvet's own, and the combination sent a shudder down my back.

It was intoxicating—the way her mouth hovered just out of reach, the heat of her body bleeding into mine, the absolute certainty that she wanted me to lose control.

That she wanted me to show her, not tell her, what happened when you poked the sleeping wolf.

For a split second, I imagined pinning her to the kitchen island, her body spread out like a feast, Alexis's fruit cup forgotten in favor of the hunger that threatened to consume me.

I could already see the way her legs would wrap around my waist, the sound she'd make when my hands found the hem of her dress.

The prospect was as dangerous as it was tempting, and I could feel the last shreds of chivalry burning away in the heat between our bodies.

"Careful," I growled, lips brushing hers with every word. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I think I do." She traced the line of my jaw, her nails barely scraping skin, and for a moment the room went quiet except for the labored tempo of our breathing. My hand slid up her thigh, inching higher, her flesh hot and taut beneath my palm.

She grinned, a wicked thing, before tugging me forward and closing the distance between our mouths.

The kiss was not gentle—she bit, pulled, devoured, and I answered with a low growl that seemed to vibrate straight from my chest into hers.

Our teeth clacked, tongues fought for dominance, and there was nothing refined or polite about it.

When we finally broke apart, both gasping, her hand was still tangled in my hair and her dress had hiked up nearly to her hips.

I reached down, smoothing it back into place only to let my hand linger at the bare skin of her thigh, savoring the tremor that ran through her when I squeezed just above her knee.

She looked at me, eyes starry, lips swollen and wet.

"Don't stop," she whispered, and I was about to answer her—maybe with words, maybe with teeth—when Alexis's laugh sliced through the moment, sharp and amused.

Alexis laughs from somewhere behind us.

"Oh, you're both absolutely fucked. In every sense of the word."

I'm about to respond when the front door chimes—the soft alert that someone's entered the property. We all freeze, sexual tension evaporating as survival instincts engage.

"The twins aren't due until tomorrow," Alexis says, already moving toward her phone.

"Could be staff," I offer, though my body has shifted into protective mode, arms tightening around Velvet.

The security app loads on Alexis's phone, showing the front drive. A black Town Car sits in the circular drive, engine running. The figure approaching the door is tall, silver-haired, built like someone who breaks things professionally.

"Fuck," Velvet breathes.

Knox.

"How did he?—"

"Doesn't matter." I'm already standing, setting Velvet on her feet gently but firmly. "Alexis, take her upstairs."

"No." Velvet's voice carries steel. "I'm not hiding. Guess he doesn’t believe the amnesia bullshit so he’s here to deal with things one on one."

"This isn't about hiding. It's about strategic positioning."

"It's about you thinking you need to protect me from a man I spent twenty years with."

"A man who couldn't sign papers to save your life," Alexis interjects, moving to flank Velvet's other side. "Who's now showing up uninvited to private property."

The doorbell rings—three sharp bursts that sound more like demands than requests.

"He won't leave until he sees me," Velvet says quietly.

"Then he sees you with us," I decide. “You won’t be alone with him"

We move as a unit toward the foyer, Velvet between Alexis and me, our bodies creating a protective formation she probably doesn't even realize.

The doorbell rings again, longer this time, impatient.

I open the door to find Knox mere inches from the threshold, clearly about to ring again. His grey eyes immediately find Velvet, scanning her from head to toe like he's cataloguing damage.

"You look good," he says, ignoring Alexis and me entirely.

"Knox." Velvet's voice is carefully neutral. "How did you find this place?"

"Does it matter?" He tries to step forward, but I shift slightly, blocking his path. His eyes finally acknowledge me, fury simmering beneath forced calm. "Move, boy."

"No."

The word hangs between us like a challenge.

Knox is bigger—broader shoulders, more obvious muscle, the kind of build that intimidates without trying. But I've got youth, reach, and more importantly, legal claim to the omega he's trying to reach.

"I need to talk to her."

"So talk," Alexis suggests. "From there."

Knox's attention shifts to her, and I see the moment he registers what she is—female Alpha, the pheromones unmistakable even from distance. His confusion is almost comical.

"Who the fuck?—"

"Alexis Rosenberg." She smiles, all teeth, reintroducing herself as if to ensure Knox can’t say he forgot. "Part of Velvet's new pack. You know, the one that actually claimed her?"

"That was coercion during medical?—"

"That was necessary because you couldn't make a decision," I interrupt, deciding we weren’t going to continue this repetitive argument. Like c’mon. I just want to move on. "Twenty years, Knox. You had twenty plus years and couldn't write your name on a piece of paper."

"You don't understand?—"

Excuses. Excuses. Excuses.

"I understand perfectly." My voice drops to something dangerous. "You thought you had forever. Thought she'd wait indefinitely while you figured out if she was worth the risk to your reputation."

"It wasn't about reputation?—"

"Then what?" Velvet's voice cuts through our posturing. "What was it about, Knox? What possible reason could you have for letting me nearly die rather than claim me?"

The silence stretches, painful and absolute. Knox opens his mouth, closes it, tries again.

"It's complicated."

Velvet laughs, but there's no humor in it. "Still? Even now, it's still complicated?"

"The gym, the Haven, our arrangement?—"

"Our arrangement?" She steps forward, though still within our protective circle. "We didn't have an arrangement. We had twenty years of you being too scared to commit and me being too desperate to walk away."

"That's not?—"

"That's exactly what it was." Her voice rises. "And you showing up here, at a private residence, after I've made my choice? What's the plan, Knox? Convince me to come back to more of the same? More hiding, more waiting, more 'it's complicated'?"

"You don't know them," he gestures at Alexis and me. "This pack, they're dangerous?—"

"Good." The word cracks like a whip. "Maybe I need dangerous. Maybe safe got me twenty years of almosts and not-quite-enoughs."

Knox's face cycles through emotions—hurt, anger, desperation—before settling on something that might be acceptance.

"You're making a mistake."

"Maybe. But it's my mistake to make." She steps back, closer to me, and I resist the urge to pull her against my chest. "Go home, Knox. Go back to your gym and your careful distance and your complications. I'm done waiting for you to be ready."

"Velvet—"

"We're done here," I announce, starting to close the door.

Knox's hand shoots out, stopping it. "This isn't over."

"Yes," Velvet says quietly, finally. "It is."

His hand drops, and I close the door with quiet finality. The three of us stand in the foyer, listening to footsteps retreat, the car engine starting, tires on gravel growing distant.

"Well," Alexis says after a moment. "That was fun."

Velvet laughs, but it's watery, tears she's fighting not to shed. I pull her against me without thought, and she buries her face in my chest.

"Twenty years," she mumbles against my shirt. "Twenty fucking years and he still can't just say what he wants."

"His loss," Alexis says, hand rubbing Velvet's back. "Our gain."

We stand there, new pack comforting our omega while her past drives away, and I think: this is what choosing looks like.

Messy. Complicated.

But hell, I’m not backing down with what I want.