Page 23 of Knotted By my Pack

And Julian? He doesn’t fit that mold. Which is probably why this unsettles me so much.

I don’t want to think about it.

“What’s going on with your car?” I ask, changing the subject.

She stretches her arms overhead, spine arching slightly before she exhales. “Still with Elias. He said he’d call today.”

I nod, then stop. “Wait. Elias?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I didn’t know you were close.” My tone comes out more clipped than I intend.

She frowns. “I’m not. He’s just helping me out.”

I try not to react, but it’s there again, that gnawing thing. I’ve always been the one she calls when things fall apart. Flat tire? Me. Broken AC? Me. A date that turned into a mess? Me. And now Elias—Alpha Elias, of all people—is fixing her car? I had already made arrangements for that.

It sits wrong. Twists in my chest like a wire pulled too tight.

I force a breath and straighten. “You know what you need?”

She narrows her eyes. “A time machine so I can go back and punch Julian in the face before he shows up here?”

I huff a laugh, the tension easing. “Close. You need to go dancing.”

That gets her attention. She grins, a little surprised. “You’re serious?”

“When have I ever not been serious about dancing?”

“It’s been a while.”

“Then we’re overdue.” I say it like it’s nothing. Casual. Easy. But it’s not. Not really. Because I can’t remember the last time I invited someone dancing without an ulterior motive—without it being just another step toward something temporary.

But Cora is not temporary. Or easy. And the way her smile lingers as she looks at me, like she’s weighing the risk but isalready halfway convinced, makes something settle low in my chest.

Something I don’t quite trust yet, but I’m not walking away from, either.

She rests her chin in her hand, considering. “Seven?”

“Perfect. I’ll pick you up after work.”

She tilts her head. “Nah, I’ll grab a cab. I’ll need to come home to change anyway. Pick me up from here.”

I nod, suddenly aware of how close she’s standing. Her skin glows in the morning light, soft and flushed from the workout.

She leans in and kisses my cheek, the press of her lips warm, easy. “You’re the best.”

Then she turns and walks down the hall toward the bathroom, her hips swaying lightly with each step.

“I’m gonna shower,” she calls out. “Try not to eat all the pancakes.”

I barely hear her over the blood rushing in my ears.

The door clicks shut, and I exhale hard.

It’s not just physical. It’s never been just physical. Cora’s my best friend. My anchor. She’s the person I text first when something good happens and the one I call when everything goes to shit.

And yeah, I’ve thought about more. Late at night. On early mornings like this. But I’ve never acted on it—she’s an Omega, and I’m an Alpha, and that changes things.