Page 14 of Knotted By my Pack (North Coast Omegaverse #3)

CORA

It’s been a hell of a day.

At first, I thought it was the rain, that steady downpour that’s been going on for hours now, but it didn’t take long for me to realize it was more than that.

My skin’s been burning, my body overheating in a way that has nothing to do with the weather. I thought I was losing my mind. So, I called Dr. Avery.

She said I’d need to come in for a consultation, that maybe my symptoms were being triggered by stress.

Great. That’s just what I need.

The rain doesn’t stop, though. It’s relentless, pouring down as if Driftwood Cove itself is rebelling against Noah being gone.

I snort at the thought. Ridiculous. I miss him, that’s all. Nothing more. He’s only been gone for a day, and yet, the weight of his absence feels like weeks.

As the clock ticks toward seven, I finally admit to myself that no one else is coming by today.

I usually wait until no customers have come in for about an hour. That’s usually around eight or even ten on weekends.

Today, though, the last customer I had was at noon, and they were in and out in a flash. I lock up the bakery, but the exhaustion is creeping in.

There’s something off, something deeper that’s making me feel like I’m suffocating. I shake my head and laugh at myself. It’s just the heat. And my stupid, stupid feelings for him.

I dash outside, trying to get to my car as fast as I can, the rain making my skirt cling to my legs and my tank top stick to my back.

By the time I reach the car, my skin is already soaked through. I throw open the door, start the engine, and—

Nothing.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

The car won’t start.

It was just fixed by Elias yesterday. I slam the wheel in frustration, muttering a string of curses.

“Not today. Not today, of all days,” I say, trying the ignition again. Still nothing. My phone buzzes in my pocket, but when I check, it’s just a low battery warning. It’s down to 10%, and I don’t have my charger with me. It’s at home.

I glance around the car, my mind racing. Should I call Elias? No. After everything that happened yesterday, I haven’t heard from him, and I know better than to push him right now. I can’t deal with him and his attitude today.

I just can’t.

I let out a frustrated scream, throwing my hands up as if the universe is personally out to get me.

So now I’m stuck. My car won’t start, my phone’s dying, and the storm isn’t letting up. The bakery’s locked, but I’m not about to spend the night here. I only have with me what I’m wearing and I’m already running a fever.

With no other option, I scramble out of the car, getting drenched in a matter of seconds, and race back into the bakery.

Once inside, I pace around, thinking of what I can do. I could walk home, but that’s ridiculous. It’s too far away, and in this weather, I’d never make it.

I glance at the door, the rain slapping against the windows, and before I can turn back, the door creaks open.

I jump, letting out a shriek before I see who it is.

Julian.

Of course.

His dark suit is ruined, completely drenched and hanging limp off his shoulders, his jacket long discarded somewhere.

His piercing blue eyes meet mine as he steps inside, a glimmer of something I can’t quite place in them.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, breathless, wiping my hands on my skirt.

He looks at me, taking in my damp, feverish state, and for a moment, the tension between us is almost unbearable. His gaze softens, but the usual sharpness remains.

“I was leaving when I saw you run inside. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

I scoff at him, irritated and still boiling under the fever. “Like you care.”

His eyes narrow, the hint of a frown tugging at his lips. “I know I was an ass yesterday,” he admits. “And I’m sorry.”

I pace again, frustration building. “That doesn’t fix anything.”

The heat inside of me spikes, making me want to claw at my skin, so I fan myself with my hand.

“Fuck, why is it so hot in here?” I mutter to myself.

Julian’s expression shifts, his eyes never leaving mine. “Are you okay? Seriously. What’s going on?”

I glance at him, suddenly self-conscious of how I must look, how the fever is making me feel lightheaded.

“My car won’t start,” I explain, rubbing my temples. “I don’t know what to do. My phone’s dying, and I don’t have a charger. I’m stuck here.”

He takes a step closer, and his gaze softens. “We’ll figure it out.”

I want to roll my eyes at him, but something in his tone makes me pause.

For a brief moment, I wonder what it would be like to actually let him help, to let him fix something for me.

I glance at him again, noticing how his soaked shirt clings to his chest, the faint outline of muscles under the fabric.

He seems tired, but there’s something different in the way he’s looking at me now.

I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. I can’t afford to let my mind wander to him like this. Not now, not when I’m already all over the place.

“I don’t need help,” I snap, trying to pull myself together.

Julian watches me carefully, but then, surprisingly, he steps closer and puts a hand on my arm. “Stop pacing. You’re making it worse.”

I freeze, his touch grounding me in a way I didn’t expect. The heat in my body surges again, and I try to ignore it, focusing on him.

“I’m fine. It’s just… this is ridiculous,” I murmur, trying to calm down.

He watches me for a moment before releasing a soft sigh. “You’re not fine, Cora. You’re burning up.”

I nod, pulling away slightly. “I know. I know. It’s just…” I trail off, unsure how to explain it.

Julian doesn’t say anything, just watches me. I think for a moment that he might say something else, something that might ease the tension that’s been hanging in the air, but instead he just gives a small nod.

“We’ll figure this out, okay?” He repeats and passes me his phone. “Maybe you can call someone. A doctor, maybe?”

I shake my head.

“Okay. Okay. Look at me. Let me help you. I can help you if you just tell me what you need.”

I glance at him, feeling the weight of everything pushing down on me again. For a moment, it feels like the storm outside is inside too, raging in my chest, my body, my mind.

“I hope so,” I say softly, more to myself than to him.

As the rain pounds against the windows, I try to focus on what I can do to get through this.

But all I can think about is how he’s standing there, watching me with an intensity that leaves me breathless.

Julian’s voice breaks through the fog of my thoughts.

“I can drop you off at home,” he offers, his tone almost too casual for my liking. “I don’t have much gas, but I can at least get you there. Then I’ll head home myself.”

I blink, caught off guard by the offer. After everything that’s happened between us, I didn’t expect him to even acknowledge me, let alone offer a ride. I try not to let my surprise show.

“Why would you do that?” I ask, my voice sharp with skepticism.

He shrugs, but there’s an almost apologetic glint in his eyes. “I’m an asshole, but I’m not leaving you like this.”

I don’t know what to say. Part of me wants to turn him down, tell him to leave me alone, but another part—one I’m not ready to confront—reluctantly accepts his offer.

I nod, trying to act like it’s no big deal. “Fine,” I mutter, glancing at the door. “I’ll just lock up.”

The sound of keys clinking in the quiet bakery is a reminder that I’m still trapped in this mess.

I hurry through the motions, my mind racing. I don’t want to be here with him, but I also don’t want to be stuck in the bakery overnight, especially in the condition I’m in.

Julian waits patiently, not rushing me, just standing there with his arms crossed, looking out the window.

The rain’s still coming down hard, and I can already feel the cold creeping into my skin, making the fever inside me feel even worse.

I expect him to take me to some sleek, high-end car, but when he opens the door to his vehicle, I’m met with something… unexpected.

It’s a beat-up old truck that smells of engine oil. Not at all what I imagined for him.

I hesitate, but he’s already climbing into the driver’s seat, and I don’t have much of a choice. I get in, closing the door behind me, and immediately, I’m hit by his scent.

Woodsmoke. Cedar. There’s something richer underneath it—aged bourbon, crushed violets—like a damn storm wrapped up in cologne. It wraps around me, thick and heavy, making my head spin. I grit my teeth.

“This is insane,” I mutter under my breath.

“What?” Julian glances over at me, confusion flickering in his eyes.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, sinking into the seat. “Just—”

I don’t finish the sentence.

He shifts in his seat, starting the engine. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve just been working in a hot kitchen all day. Nothing a cold shower won’t fix.”

He doesn’t seem convinced, his sharp gaze never leaving my face. “You sure? You’re looking a little—” He stops, catching himself. “Never mind.”

I know he doesn’t believe me. Hell, I don’t believe myself. But I don’t want to talk about it, not with him.

I give him my pin location, and he starts driving. The roads are flooded, the water sloshing against the tires as he carefully navigates through the mess. That’s when it happens.

A truck barrels around a corner, swerving toward us with oblivious to where we’re standing.

I barely have time to gasp before Julian’s hand is on my chest, pushing me back against the seat.

His grip is firm, but not harsh, and the sudden pressure of his touch on me sends an electric shock through my body.

The truck passes, its tires skimming dangerously close to the car. My heart races—not from fear, but from the way his hand is still on me, branded into my skin like a hot iron.

When the danger’s over, Julian pulls his hand away, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed. I glance at him, breathless, my pulse still pounding in my throat.

The tension between us is thick, but I can’t quite place it. He doesn’t seem fazed, but I swear I saw something flicker in his eyes—something dark.

I swallow hard, trying to force my mind back under control.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

I nod, but my thoughts are scattered. “Yeah. Fine,” I say. The words don’t feel like they belong to me.

The rest of the drive is a blur. The rain pours down harder, and I focus on the steady sound of the windshield wipers, the rhythmic thud of the tires against the flooded roads.

We’re almost home when I break the silence. “I didn’t mean to intrude. With you and Elias, I mean,” I say, my voice softer now.

Julian glances over at me, his expression unreadable. “That was a family feud. You didn’t intrude. I shouldn’t have been rude to you, either.”

I nod, biting my lip. “I just didn’t want to make things worse.”

“You didn’t,” he says, his voice low.

The truck slows as we approach my house, and I feel a pang of disappointment I don’t want to acknowledge.

I tell myself it’s just because I’m tired, but there’s something else, something I don’t want to admit.

When the truck comes to a stop, I turn to him, about to say thanks, but his eyes are on me, and I freeze.

He reaches over, extending his hand to me. “Truce?” he asks, his gaze steady.

I take his hand, and when our fingers touch, there’s a jolt of electricity. His eyes lock with mine. I can see the pull, the tension, that invisible thread connecting us.

Before I can think, he leans in slightly, his eyes flickering down to my lips. My breath catches, suspended in the silence between us.

I should pull away. I should. But I don’t.

His breath is warm against my cheek, heavy with bourbon and cedar—intoxicating. The scent of him floods my senses, and suddenly he’s no longer the man I’ve argued with nearly every day since he got here. He’s something else—something dangerous, something I want.

Just as our lips are about to meet, he stops. Pulls back. And presses a soft kiss to my cheek.

“Goodnight, Cora,” he says, voice low and rough, like gravel and sin.

I nod, dazed. But he doesn’t move away. His hand stays on my jaw, fingers sliding down, grazing my throat, stopping just above my collarbone.

And then—his lips brush against the spot where his fingers just were. A soft, sinful kiss that makes my stomach clench.

Before I can stop myself, I move.

I climb onto his lap, straddling him in one swift, reckless motion. The steering wheel digs into my back, but I barely register it. All I feel is him.

His thighs firm beneath me. His hands gripping my hips like he’s been dying to touch me. The heat between us is instant, electric.

“Cora,” he growls, like my name is both a warning and a prayer.

His hands roam upward, skimming over my drenched top, fingers sliding beneath the hem to touch bare, heated skin.

I rock against him, the pressure between my thighs almost unbearable, and when his hips jerk up in response, a sharp breath escapes me.

I grind down again, chasing that friction, and his head drops back with a guttural curse. His arousal presses hard against me, and I swear, I can feel every inch of him even with the layers between us.

His hands find my breasts, cupping them through the soaked fabric, thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks.

Then he pulls my top over my head, revealing the lace bra underneath—black, thin, and almost completely see-through.

“Fuck,” he mutters, eyes devouring me.

His mouth is on my chest in seconds, lips grazing the curve of my breast, tongue flicking along the edge of the lace.

I rock against him again, harder this time, and the sound he makes—raw, desperate—spurs me on.

His teeth graze my collarbone, a sharp bite followed by a soothing kiss, and I moan, clinging to his shoulders like I’m about to fall.

And then—BLARE.

The horn screams, splitting the moment like a knife. I jolt, eyes flying open. Reality crashes back, ugly and cold.

“Oh my god,” I breathe, scrambling off his lap like the seat’s on fire. My heart is racing, my chest heaving. “What the hell am I doing?”

He says my name again, softer this time, reaching for me—but I shake my head.

“No. No, this was a mistake,” I whisper, voice cracking.

I fumble for the door, flinging it open and slipping out before I can change my mind. I run toward the house, not daring to look back.

Inside, I lean against the door, eyes wide, pulse still frantic.

What the hell just happened?

And why do I want more?