Page 56 of Knotted By my Pack

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she breathes. “I thought I had it under control.”

“It’s alright,” I murmur, brushing damp hair off her face. “You’re not alone.”

She grabs my shirt and pulls me close, lips brushing my jaw, hot breath ghosting over my skin. Her body is trembling with need, her scent only growing more potent.

“I need—” she gasps, but her voice falters.

“I know.”

I press my forehead to hers, willing myself to stay grounded. My control is hanging by a thread.

“You trust me?” I ask.

Her answer is immediate. “Yes.”

I exhale through my nose, anchoring myself. She’s in pain, overwhelmed, and it’s my job to get her through it, not take advantage of it.

I pull off my jacket and wrap it around her, trying to block the worst of the scent.

She whines, shifting beneath me.

“Noah, please…”

“I’m here,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

Her fingers curl in my shirt again, anchoring herself.

I settle beside her, pulling her against me, arms tight.

My scent surrounds her now, meant to soothe, to remind her that she’s safe. Her body is hot against mine, practically vibrating. I focus on her breathing, the way her chest moves, the little gasps escaping her lips.

My hands stroke her back, slow, steady, never straying.

The scent is still too much. Too thick. But I won’t leave her.

Not now. Not ever.

17

JULIAN

“We need to put our differences aside and help her,” I growl at him.

Elias presses on his cock through his pants before answering, “Yes.”

We walk toward the back.

The air is thick with her. Sweet and sharp, the scent of her slick heat buried beneath vanilla sugar and melted chocolate. I can’t focus. Can barely breathe.

Elias and I stand shoulder to shoulder behind Noah, teeth clenched, muscles tight, instincts flaring like live wire.

Cora’s heat is full-blown.

She’s burning up, sweat clinging to her hairline, her skin flushed. She’s pacing, frantic, tugging at her clothes like they’re suffocating her.

Noah touches her, brushes her hair from her face, and she presses into the contact like she might break if he stops.

“What do you need?” Noah’s voice is low, barely contained. He’s trying. We all are.