Page 16 of Knotted By my Pack (North Coast Omegaverse #3)

CORA

The clinic hallway is too cold and too quiet. I sit outside Dr. Avery’s office, my palms resting on my thighs, trying not to fidget, but the way my legs press together betrays me.

There’s something wrong. Has to be. This isn’t normal. Not for me.

First, there was Noah. My best friend. The man I’ve trusted since I was practically a kid.

His hands brushing mine and the way he looks at me when he thinks I won’t notice—lately, it does something to me.

I knew he had some kind of crush on me when we were younger, but damn did I choose the worst time for my own feelings to bloom.

Then last night, dry humping Julian like some hormone-drunk teenager. I’d barely said two words to him before I was grinding on his lap like I didn’t know better.

And today... Elias. His fingers. My body opening up to him without hesitation. The wet sound of it still echoes in my head, embarrassingly vivid.

My heat suppressants have worked for years. I’ve never had incidents. Never lost control like this.

And now, just being near an Alpha sends my body into overdrive. I exhale slowly, pulse flickering beneath my skin as Dr. Avery’s door finally opens.

“Cora? Come in,” she says with a kind smile. Her hair is swept into a low bun, and she’s wearing those same tiny glasses that always sit too close to the edge of her nose.

I nod and rise, slipping inside and taking a seat across from her desk. The room smells like lavender and sterile cotton. Safe. Clean. I wish I felt either.

“So,” she starts, folding her hands together. “What’s going on?”

I hesitate, then spill everything in a breathless rush. “My suppressants aren’t working. Or something.

I’ve been around a few Alphas recently, and it’s like—my body reacts before I can think. It’s not like me.”

Dr. Avery listens patiently, eyes scanning a chart on her tablet. She hums softly, the sound more clinical than comforting. “Any changes to your routine? Stress? Missed doses?”

“No. I’ve been good with my meds. But yeah, work’s been... intense.” I cannot tell a professional doctor that the one person stressing the living hell out of me is the same Alpha I was grinding against last night.

She taps her screen, then looks up at me with a steady expression.

“That could be a contributing factor. Stress interferes with hormonal regulation more often than people realize. Suppressants work, but they’re not immune to lifestyle shifts. Emotional build-up, exhaustion, even small changes in diet can make you more vulnerable.”

“So what does that mean? Am I going into heat?”

“Not yet. But you’re close,” she answers. “I’m going to up your dose temporarily and switch you to the extended-release version. It should stabilize things. But you need rest, and ideally, avoid high-stress environments. That includes intense emotional stimulation.”

Like Elias’s mouth on my neck. Like Julian’s teeth grazing my collarbone. Like Noah’s hands, rough and familiar, catching my hips when I danced with him.

I nod quickly. “Okay. Yeah. Thank you.”

We wrap up, and I gather my bag, feeling just slightly less chaotic than when I walked in. The door clicks shut behind me, and I glance down the hall—then pause when I spot Grace sitting in the waiting area.

Her hair is braided back, and she’s dressed in a white sweater that makes her look soft and ethereal, like she belongs in a storybook. She owns Haven’s Nook, the cozy flower shop on the other side of the town center.

Everyone adores her, and rightly so.

“Cora,” she says, her smile lighting up her face. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” I admit, returning the smile. “Just a quick visit.”

“Same. Just a routine check-up. I was actually thinking of you this morning,” she says as she pulls out her phone. “Did you like the flowers Elias brought for you?”

My breath stutters. I blink. “Yes. Thank you.”

Grace nods. “He picked them himself before sunrise. Showed up at the Nook asking for twine and brown paper. Said they were for someone who needed something bright.”

My chest tightens. “They were very, very pretty,” I say softly.

Grace tilts her head, pleased. “I’m glad. Maybe I’ll stop by Whisked sometime this week and try those muffins Elias kept praising. Said they were sin in a paper wrapper.”

I laugh under my breath. “You’re always welcome. I’d love that.”

“Grace?” Dr. Avery calls from the hall.

Grace squeezes my hand before standing. “Take care of yourself, Cora.”

“You too.”

I step outside, the afternoon air warm and a little too bright. The sky is that pale shade of spring blue that makes everything look too soft, too real.

I should head back to the bakery. My work day technically isn’t over. But my body’s heavy, nerves strung too tight, and I know if I go back now, I’ll either snap at someone or worse—collapse into Elias’s arms and beg for more.

Instead, I pull out my phone and order a cab. When it arrives, I slide into the back seat, resting my cheek against the cool window glass.

My thoughts drift to Noah before I even realize it. I miss him.

I write: I miss you. This week sucks.

The message sits for a second before I hit send. The reply comes within minutes. A series of photos.

His hands stained with paint and sawdust. Cabinets half-finished, wood grain shining under the light of his workshop.

He’s smiling in one of them, a little crooked, a little tired. My chest twists. He’s only been gone two days, and I’m falling apart without him.

When the cab pulls up to my house, I thank the driver and let myself inside, the scent of vanilla and flour still clinging to my sweater.

My home is quiet. I leave the lights off, kicking off my shoes and changing into something comfortable.

Then, I make tea—the way Noah taught me. Two teaspoons of loose leaf in my favorite cracked mug, steeped exactly three minutes.

I sit at the kitchen table, palms wrapped around the warmth, letting the silence settle over me like a second skin.

I drink half, then slide into bed, setting the mug on my nightstand. The sheets smell like linen and cinnamon. Familiar and lonely all at once.

I curl into the pillows and whisper, “No more crushes on Alphas.”

It sounds like a lie, even to me.

The tea is cold by the time I realize I’ve dozed off. My body is heavy against the mattress, limbs tangled in sheets that weren’t this twisted when I slid under them.

There’s a sheen of sweat at the base of my neck and across my chest, sticking the thin fabric of my camisole to my skin. The room is darker than before.

Dusky blue shadows spill across the walls, and the air feels heavier somehow.

My thighs are damp. Ache thrumming between them like I’ve been grinding against the mattress, and when I shift, the proof of what just played out behind my closed eyes reveals itself.

The dream comes back in flashes, not slow or soft, but sharp and vivid.

Noah, Elias, Julian.

Not one. All three.

It started with Elias. His hand pressing to my lower back, pulling me into his chest. His mouth against my neck, rough and greedy.

His voice low and gravel-edged as he whispered how wet I already was. How he hadn’t even touched me yet, and I was soaking through my panties like I’d been begging for it all day.

I hadn’t spoken. I didn’t have to. Not in the dream.

I just opened for him. Let him lay me back and slide his hand down my body, those thick fingers slipping under the lace and inside me like he already knew exactly how to wreck me.

Like earlier hadn’t been nearly enough for either of us.

Then Julian was there, dark eyes burning as he knelt beside the bed, watching. His hands unbuckling his belt slowly, stroking himself with a low curse as he watched Elias work me open.

I reached for him, but he shook his head, smirking in that cocky, too-handsome way that made me dizzy. “No. You’re not done yet. Let me see you fall apart on his fingers first.”

Noah was behind me. I don’t know when he appeared.

His chest pressed to my back, warm and solid, one hand buried in my hair, tilting my head back so he could kiss me.

Deep and possessive. I moaned into his mouth as Elias curled his fingers just right, and Julian’s grip tightened around his cock as he watched my thighs start to shake.

It was too much. Their heat. Their scent. The way they looked at me like they wanted to devour me.

I wasn’t even sure who was touching what by the end. Elias still between my legs.

Julian behind me, dragging his knuckles along my hip, letting the head of his cock nudge my skin. Noah’s breath hot against my shoulder as he whispered that I was theirs.

That I always had been.

The dream hangs over me like smoke. I sit up, dragging the sheets with me, the pulse between my legs thudding too hard, too loud.

I press my palm against my stomach like that’ll settle the ache, but it doesn’t. I could touch myself.

I want to.

Desperately.

But I know it won’t be enough. I’d still be empty.

I throw the covers off and stand. My camisole is soaked through, clinging to my skin, and I peel it off with a hiss of frustration. My panties are ruined.

I toss them into the hamper and head straight for the bathroom.

The cold sink water does nothing. I splash my face anyway, grip the porcelain like it can anchor me.

Then I reach for the bottle in the cabinet. Heat suppressants. I pop two more into my mouth and swallow, chasing them with a few gulps of sink water.

It’s not supposed to be like this. I’ve been stable for years. Balanced. I’d figured out how to exist in a town crawling with Alphas without losing control. And now?

I’m one dream away from calling all three of them just to let them take turns wrecking me.

I catch my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, hair a mess, lips parted like I’ve been kissing for hours. I look like a woman in heat. No matter what the pills say.

Maybe it’s time I stop pretending I can hold it together. Maybe I need to get laid. Properly.

Just enough to ease the ache so I can think again. But not by Elias. Or Julian. Or Noah.

No. I know better.

I prefer Betas. They’re safe. Calm. Not the type to trigger instincts that have no business being this sharp.

Betas don’t scent-mark you with their eyes. They don’t speak with their hands or look at you like they’d fuck you in the middle of a public street just to prove a point.

Betas are manageable.

I know a few. Soft-spoken, steady types who don’t rile me up just by saying my name.

Maybe I should call one. Maybe it’s time I actually go through with what I’ve told myself a dozen times.

I deserve something simple. Something easy. Not possessive hands in my hair or slick tongues between my thighs while another man watches.

I press a towel to my face and exhale against the fabric. I still taste the dream. Still feel their hands on my body. Still ache.

If I don’t do something soon, I’m going to combust with need. Or worse—let an Alpha scent me until I’m too far gone to remember my own name.

I pad back to the bedroom and crawl into the cool sheets. My skin is still flushed. Still tight with want. But I close my eyes and try to count backward from one hundred.

The next time I wake up, I’ll be in control again.

I have to be.