It’s fast, but I catch it.
The kind of look people share when they’ve already agreed on the lie.
Something goes cold in my chest. I let go of Knox’s hand, then sit down, pretending to fuss with my mug just to have something to do with my hands.
Alex clears his throat too quickly. “Anyway, I think the eggs are getting cold. You should eat before Dakota smells food and comes storming in.”
Knox gives a short nod, that same faint smile still on his lips—but now it feels wrong. Forced.
I rub my palms over the tops of my thighs, trying to shake the unease. Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe I’m imagining it.
But that doesn’t stop the thought from digging in—What are they keeping from me?
Why was Knox upset yesterday?
And was he pretending to be asleep last night?
Because Idefinitelyfelt something in our bond.
“Sky,” Knox’s soft voice cuts through my thoughts. “What’s wrong, omega?”
My throat tightens, words piling up somewhere deep where I can’t reach them.
I want to tell him the truth—that something about the way he’s looking at me feels off, that I can taste a lie in the air, faint but sharp like metal—but the thought of saying it out loud makes my chest ache.
So I just shake my head. “Nothing,” I whisper, but even to my own ears it sounds wrong.
Knox’s hand brushes against mine, gentle, careful, as if Imight shatter under too much pressure. The warmth of his skin only makes the unease worse. My stomach twists, a dull ache spreading low in my gut and settling in my back.
I shift in my seat, tucking my knees up and pretending to take a drink of my coffee, hoping he won’t see how my fingers tremble.
“I’m just tired,” I whisper. It’s the easiest thing I can think of to say…and it is true.
Knox studies me for a long moment, that faint smile still pinned in place, and for some reason, it makes my pulse stutter.
“I promise, I’m okay,” I say, not wanting him to worry.
He nods slightly, making his long hair fall forward. But the second he looks away, a cramp hits low in my belly. It catches me completely off guard, and I suck in a quick breath, trying to breathe through it.
“Skyla,” Knox’s deep voice is filled with worry as he falls to his knees right in front of me. His hands skim my knees, and a second cramp hits me. This one is longer and more painful, making me whimper.
A deep rumbling purr fills the room, making some of the tension in my pelvis lift, but only slightly.
“What’s wrong?” Alex asks. “Should I call a doc—” He stops mid-sentence as slick gushes out of me.
I gasp, shocked and scared at the rush of fluid. It’s so sudden, I’m so confused by what’s happening. But then I feel the swift dilation of my sex. It opens wide, horribly empty, desperate to be filled and stuffed.
“Holy fuck,” Alex growls, low and slow. “Is she?—?”
The world tilts sideways, a dizzy blur of motion and noise as I’m lifted out of my chair. I clutch at Knox’s chest, fingers fisting in his shirt, trying to ground myself in the solid heat of him. His scent—rich smoke, cherries, andsomething unmistakably masculine—hits me hard, thick enough to make my heart stop. His pheromones spike, filling the air as he carries me through the house.
The living room blurs past in streaks of color and light. Another sharp cramp tears through me, making me double over. My lungs forget how to work. For a long, awful heartbeat, I can’t breathe—just hang there, shuddering in my alpha’s arms until the sound that escapes me is half sob, half plea.
“It—hurts,” I gasp out, voice breaking, hands pressing against my stomach as another wave rolls through. “Hurt—please!”
Knox runs down the hallway, then he muscles his way into the bedroom like a man on a mission.
“Dakota!” His voice booms, sharp enough to cut through the thick haze clouding my mind.
