Lahat ng Kabanata ng Knot My Alpha: Kabanata 71 - Kabanata 80

One of his hands lifts, his knuckles trailing the length of my jaw, barely a whisper of contact, but it sets my nerves on fire. I suck in a sharp breath, my body going still, my pulse hammering as his fingers trace down, following the delicate column of my throat before stopping at the base of my neck.And then, just to be a bastard, he presses his thumb against my pulse. I know he can feel how fast it is. I know he can tell what he’s doing to me.Jacob hums again, tilting his head slightly, watching me like he’s testing something, like he’s waiting to see if I’ll push him away or pull him closer. I know what he’s doing. He’s letting me set the pace, letting me decide how far this goes, if it goes anywhere at all.I should make him suffer. I should lean back and laugh it off, make some snarky comment, pretend like he doesn’t have me wrapped around his finger.But I don’t.Instead, I lift my chin just slightly, baring my throat a fraction more, letting him see what he’s doing to me, le

My father’s message is simple and direct, sent through one of his staff. “Jacob, come to my office—alone,” it reads, clear and blunt as ever. The wording puts a knot in my stomach instantly, a tense coil tightening just under my ribs. I glance briefly toward the living area where Xavier is curled up on the plush sofa, wrapped in a soft blanket, paging through a stack of books and magazines as he plans out his nest. He looks peaceful right now, content and safe, and I hate the idea of disturbing that sense of calm. So I slip away quietly, nodding to the staff member in acknowledgment before moving down the familiar halls toward my father’s office.I knock once before stepping inside, finding him at his desk, his expression solemn and serious as he glances up to meet my gaze. He gestures toward the chair opposite him, his mouth drawn into a tight, thin line that sends another wave of apprehension through me. My father is a controlled man, rarely allowing emotion to slip through his c

Breakfast is warm and quiet and—oddly enough—kind of perfect.Jacob’s seated across from me at the massive kitchen island, shirtless again because he has no shame and apparently no awareness of how distracting he is when he’s pouring coffee with that smug little grin on his face. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla is thick in the air from the French toast he made, and I’m on my second slice because I have no self-control when it comes to food that tastes like comfort and safety.We’re teasing each other about something ridiculous—I think it started with whether or not I could take him in a fight and has now devolved into him impersonating my voice and dramatically swooning over how broad his shoulders are.“You’re obsessed,” I say flatly, trying not to laugh as I stab another bite with my fork. “Seriously, Jacob, this is starting to look like a cry for attention.”“Oh, I’m obsessed?” he counters, leaning back in his chair and flexing way too obviously, just to make a point. “You were t

Jacob doesn’t speak as we walk through the estate. Doesn’t comment when I hesitate slightly near the front foyer, my body remembering the tension of walking through those doors earlier. He just grabs my hand and keeps walking until we reach the garage doors.When he opens one, I blink.Inside, lined up neatly like something out of a magazine, are cars. Sleek, glossy, expensive as hell. A few motorcycles. And in the back, tucked in the corner, a matte black four-wheeler that looks like it’s seen actual off-road chaos.I blink again. “You want me to drive that?”“No,” Jacob says, grinning. “I’m driving. You’re riding.”I stare at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a four-wheeler.”He shrugs. “Then you’re about to lose your off-roading virginity.”I groan. “You’re unbearable.”He tosses me a helmet from the shelf. “And you love it.”A few minutes later, we’re flying across the property—through the trees, over dirt trails I didn’t even know were there. The wind whips around us, fast an

Xavier’s asleep in my arms. Or at least, I think he is. He’s breathing like it, soft and steady against my chest, one hand curled near his face, the other resting over my ribs like I’ll vanish if he lets go. His cheek is pressed to the space just above my heart, and I swear to god, every time he exhales, something in me settles a little more.The sheets are still damp from when we fell into bed after the bath—too tired to dry off all the way, too tangled up in each other to care. We hadn’t planned it. That wasn’t what the bath was supposed to be. I ran it for him because he needed comfort, and I needed to give it to him. Needed to do something to remind him that the world could still be kind. That he was still loved. But somewhere between the water and the steam and the quiet way he looked at me—something shifted.And it was him. He was the one who let his scent roll out first, thick and heavy and laced with need so strong I could barely think. No hesitation, no fear. Just instinct a