Page 33 of Knotted By my Pack (North Coast Omegaverse #3)

JULIAN

I’ve been pacing since morning, every thought spiraling into the next.

I pull up spreadsheets, property evaluations, alternative market reports. Nothing feels good enough.

Nothing I pitch has my father’s name written all over it, and I know the only thing that will satisfy him is what I refuse to give him—this town. This project. Her.

I scrub a hand through my hair and stare down the hallway like answers might be waiting there. They aren’t. What’s waiting is a confrontation I’ve spent my life avoiding. Fuck.

I grab my phone and dial Brielle’s number.

“Book me a flight back to the city. First thing tomorrow,” I say.

A pause. “You sure?”

I’m not. “Yeah.”

I end the call before I can think twice. I pour a generous two fingers of whiskey, not for the taste.

The glass is cool in my palm. I watch the amber swirl before tipping it back. I need to stall the project, convince him I’m taking initiative elsewhere, but for now, I need a moment of quiet. I need her.

My thumb hovers over her name before I hit call.

She picks up within seconds. Laughter trails through the speaker like she’s standing in a sunbeam. My mouth tilts, soft and automatic.

“What’s funny?” I ask.

“Rusty,” she says, still laughing. “He just dragged one of my bras out of the house.”

I chuckle, easing into her warmth even over the line. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your evening.”

“You’re not,” she says. “Is everything okay?”

“Wanted to talk to you.”

Her voice lowers slightly. “I’ll be home in an hour if you want to come over.”

I swear my chest tightens. “Yeah. Okay.”

We hang up, and I stand there like a fucking teenager, giddy at the idea of seeing her. But ten minutes later, she calls back.

“Actually… would you mind if Elias and Noah came too? I wanted to talk to all of you.”

Her voice is measured, but something about it makes me pay attention.

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll be there.”

I down the rest of my whiskey and check my watch. I debate pouring another but decide against it.

No fog tonight. I need clarity. I shower, throw on a white button-down and blazer, slick my hair back, and bring the bottle of whiskey anyway. Not for nerves. Not really.

By the time I pull up to her house, I already know they’re here. Their scents linger like territory marks, braided with hers.

My jaw ticks once, but I school myself before I knock. I came here to listen. To indulge whatever she wants to say.

She opens the door, and the first thing I notice is that she’s barefoot. Then her dress, thin enough to show the outline of her nipples.

Her hair is loose, skin flushed in places I don’t think are from the sun. She looks kissed and wrecked and beautiful.

“Hey,” I say.

She throws her arms around me, hugging like she means it. I breathe her in. She smells like sex.

I wrap one arm around her waist, press my face into her neck for one second longer than necessary, then step inside.

Noah is at the stove, flipping fish with a metal spatula, like this is his kitchen. Elias is planted on the sofa with a bottle of beer in his hand.

I give him a nod. He nods back. Polite, sharp. We’re not friends. Not even close. But for her, we pretend.

She takes the whiskey from me and raises a brow. “Beer or this?”

“Dealer’s choice.”

She smiles, but it’s tight. She’s nervous. I take off my blazer and undo the first two buttons of my shirt before sinking onto the far end of the couch.

The bottle of beer Elias was nursing lands on the coffee table with a soft clink. No one says anything.

Cora glances between us, her hands twitching at her sides. Then she mutters something about the silence being too weird and crosses the room to turn on music.

Soft jazz filters through the speakers. Her hips sway a little on the way back. Even now, she doesn’t realize how much power she has.

I can tell she’s trying to fill the air with something other than nerves.

She sits on the edge of the couch, directly across from me, knees tucked up, dress riding high.

Her thigh glows in the lamplight. My gaze drifts up to the marks on her shoulder. Noah’s work. Maybe Elias’s, too. I inhale through my nose and settle.

I lean back and stretch my arm along the top of the cushion. “So. What’s up?”

“Can we eat first?” she asks, voice light, eyes scanning all of us. “Then we’ll talk.”

I nod once. “Sure.”

Noah finishes plating. The food smells incredible. Lemon. Butter. Garlic. He sets the plates down like this is routine. Like we do this every Sunday.

Elias gets up and grabs the silverware, tossing a napkin at me without looking. I catch it midair.

Cora pours me a glass of whiskey and hands it over with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. I study her.

There’s something underneath it all, something more than the nerves of a woman trying to balance three alphas under one roof. I’m not sure if I want to know or if I already do.

We eat mostly in silence, exchanging simple conversation about the fish, the weather, the trail Rusty chased a raccoon down. Her shoulders drop a little with every bite.

She reaches for the bottle and tops off my glass halfway through her meal. Her hand brushes mine and lingers. That small touch says more than her words have all night.

After we finish, she picks up our plates and puts them in the sink. She doesn’t start talking until her back is to us. When she turns around, she’s holding onto the counter like she needs the support.

“I wanted to talk to you all,” she begins, then pauses to switch the music to something softer, wordless. “Because this thing between us... it’s not just sex. I know that. You know that. And I think we’re all starting to realize it’s getting harder to ignore.”

Elias sets his beer down slowly. Noah crosses his arms. I stay quiet.

She walks toward us again, barefoot on hardwood, curls falling over one shoulder. “I thought if I kept it casual, if I didn’t name it, maybe it wouldn’t shift. But everything’s shifting anyway.”

She sinks down beside me this time, her knee grazing mine. Her voice drops. “I’ve been thinking about the store. The break-in. The way people look at me lately.”

Guilt swamps me.

Noah’s voice is low. “You think it’s connected to us?”

“I don’t know.” She glances at each of us. “But I do know people have noticed. And I’ve started to wonder if being with all of you—”

“Us being your harem?” Elias cuts in with a crooked smile.

Cora slaps a hand to her chest, laughing. “Exactly. My pack of very territorial bodyguards.”

We all chuckle, even me, even now. But her laugh doesn’t last long.

She shifts toward me. “Julian. You’ve been quieter than usual.”

I swirl the whiskey in my glass, watching it catch the lamplight. “Because I’m listening.”

Her gaze is heavy on me. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you all this, but I wanted to be honest. Noah knotted me. So did Elias.”

The words aren’t a surprise, not really. But hearing them said so plainly, knocks something loose in my chest. I sip my drink.

She watches my face carefully. “You okay?”

“I’m not angry,” I say. “Jealous? Sure. But mostly just... needing to catch up.”

Noah’s watching me like I might flip the table. Elias is unreadable.

Cora touches my hand again. “I know, that’s why I wanted to tell you. I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

I cover her hand with mine. “Well, you just did. And I know I knotted you too, but this is also a big deal for me.”

“I know,” she says.

The silence between all of us is strange but not unbearable. She curls closer to my side. Her head against my shoulder. My arm slips around her, heavy and sure.

For now, I don’t need more than this. But that doesn’t mean the conversation is over.

Not even close.

“Okay,” Cora says, curled beside me, fingers still brushing my thigh like she’s not sure whether to hold on tighter or let go. “But how does this even work? We’re not exactly a pack.”

She’s not wrong. We aren’t bonded by blood or tradition. There’s no hierarchy. No rules. Just instinct and proximity and whatever the hell this is. Tension flickers between us again.

Elias taps his fingers against the beer bottle, not drinking, just thinking. Noah exhales through his nose, gaze fixed on the stretch of her bare thigh under that gauzy dress.

“We figure it out day by day,” I say, voice low.

She tilts her head. “That simple?”

Elias finally looks at me. His expression doesn’t shift much, but there’s a flicker behind his eyes—one that tells me he’s not doing this for my sake.

We’ll figure it out for her. That’s the only reason any of us are still sitting in the same room, breathing the same heated air.

She nods slowly. “Okay.”

I stroke my thumb across her knee. “I need to tell you something.”

She stiffens. “Yeah?”

“I’m leaving town for a bit. Just a few days.”

That pulls her attention back fully. “Why? Is everything okay?”

I glance down at my glass, then set it on the table untouched. “It is. I just... need to handle something. Can’t say what yet. Not until I know it’ll work.”

She studies me with that quiet intensity that always seems to strip me bare. “Okay. Be careful.”

Elias stands and stretches, tossing Rusty’s leash between his fingers. “I’m gonna head out. Need to walk the beast before bed.”

She starts to stand, her dress shifting high as she uncurls from the couch. “Wait. Will you all stay a little longer?” Her voice softens. “At least until midnight?”

The moment she says it, the air changes. Her scent threads through the room like silk unraveling. It hits low in my gut.

Every muscle tenses. The shift is faint, a subtle hormone spike only we’d notice—but it’s enough.

Noah lifts his head like he’s scenting prey. “No rush on my end.”

“I’m traveling in the morning,” I remind him, not even convincing myself that’s a reason to leave.

“Dammit,” Elias mutters, shaking his head, and we all laugh.

And then she does it—stands up straight, hooks her fingers beneath the hem of her dress, and pulls it off in one smooth motion. The room stops breathing.

No bra. Her skin glows in the lamplight, soft and flushed. The pale pink panties cling to her hips like a second skin.

I see the faint indents of Noah’s teeth above her ribs, the welted imprints of Elias’s grip on her thighs. Her body tells stories. And every one of us listens.

“Holy shit,” Noah mutters, eyes raking over her. Then he lets out a low whistle. “Who the fuck did that to you?”

Elias doesn’t even blink. “That would be me.”

She shifts slightly, but her gaze stays on us, inviting and uncertain all at once. The air heats.

We all stand.

She looks so fucking small between us now. Barefoot, almost naked, surrounded by three Alphas with eyes fixed on her like she’s the only thing we’ve ever wanted.

My jaw flexes, and I shove my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her too soon.

“Fuck,” Noah breathes out again, voice darker now.

Elias moves first. He steps close, his hands sliding around her waist, fingers slipping under the edge of her panties like he’s tempted to rip them right off. He doesn’t. Not yet. Instead, he dips his head and kisses her.

It’s not soft.

Her gasp breaks against his mouth, high and breathy, hips tipping forward as his grip tightens. She makes a sound that hits me square in the chest—a whimper, helpless and raw—and I’m already moving before they break apart.

“The last time,” she whispers, breath shaky, eyes bouncing between us, “it was heat. I barely remember any of it.”

Her hand reaches for me.

“I want to remember tonight.”

I step in behind her, cupping the back of her neck, dipping my head until my mouth brushes her ear. “Gentlemen,” I murmur, letting my lips trail down her jaw, “we’ve been given a challenge.”

She shivers under my hands, skin prickling.

I kiss the space beneath her earlobe, then trace my tongue along the curve, tugging gently.

She arches, and Elias doesn’t waste time—his hands slide up to her chest, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over nipples that look red and sore and begging for attention.

Her lips part with a soft moan. “They’re still sensitive.”

He pinches gently. “I know.”

I glance down. My cock strains against my pants.

I want to taste her there, soothe her with my tongue until she cries out. The tips are already hard, nipples taut peaks under Elias’s hands, and when I lower my mouth to one, she gasps and curls against me.

Her fingers dig into my shoulder. I lick slowly, drawing lazy circles around her nipple, then suck. Not hard, just enough to make her knees buckle.

Elias steadies her from the front, kissing her throat, whispering something into her skin.

Noah steps up behind her now, pressing his body flush against her back. “She’s got us wrecked,” he mutters, fingers slipping beneath the band of her panties to squeeze her ass. “Little witch.”

She leans into all of it, head lolling back against Noah’s shoulder, chest pushed forward into my mouth. Elias licks the other nipple, pinching and flicking the one I leave wet and reddened.

My hands slide down her waist, thumbs dragging across her hipbones. I mouth at the underside of her breast now, biting just enough to mark her again.

She moans.

It’s fucking addictive.

Noah’s voice is lower now, right at her ear. “You still sore from earlier?”

“A little,” she says.

Elias lifts his head, cocky. “Good.”

I laugh under my breath, licking down her stomach. Her fingers thread into my hair and hold me there. She smells like honey and sweat and something richer, more primal.

Her scent has thickened. It clings to us. Wraps around our throats.

I drop to my knees.

Her thighs part for me instantly and I mouth over the edge of her panties, letting my breath warm her through the fabric.

She whines, hips twitching, and I look up to see Noah tilting her face to his.

He kisses her like he’s trying to stake a claim, and she clutches his shirt like she’s drowning.

Elias kneels beside me, one hand stroking her inner thigh while I press open-mouthed kisses along her slit.

She’s soaked through.

“Fuck, look at her,” Elias mutters, dragging the fabric aside.

I groan as I see her. Pink, flushed, swollen. Everything I want.

I lick once slowly, from base to clit, and she nearly collapses. Her whole body jerks as she cries out into Noah’s mouth, and Elias curses.

“She’s going to make a mess.”

“She is the mess,” Noah grinds out, voice raw.

I suck on her clit gently, fingers working in tandem with my tongue, coaxing her into that high, sweet edge. Her moans fall like syrup over us. Her fingers tighten in my hair. Her thighs start to shake.

But I don’t let her fall.

I stand again, licking my lips, tasting her as I kiss her mouth. Her lips are parted and swollen, eyes wide and hazy.

“You remember this?” I whisper.

She nods.

“Good. Because we’re not done.”