Her Knotty List (MVP: Most Valuable Pack Book 4)

“Well,” Zane chirps, smirking, “This is cozy.”

Micah stands between us, holding a pillow and cringing. “There really isn’t anywhere else to sleep, Knox?”

Unfortunately, no.

I scratch my beard and shake my head. Gunnar chuffs, “An entire compound with God-knows-how-many rooms, and you only have one sofa and one bed?”

The fact is, I almost didn’t buy the sofa. I had my eye on a recliner.

Micah reads my expression and snorts. “Figures.”

With a grunt, I shuffle toward the couch and shove one of the cushions off to make more room. “It’s the couch or the floor,” I admit. “If you want to freeze your ass off on the hardwoods, be my guest.”

“Such hospitality,” Gunnar mutters, tossing the extra pillow I gave him onto the opposite end of the U-shaped sectional.

Releasing a deep sigh, Micah snatches two more leather cushions off the back of the sofa and lines them up on the floor to form a makeshift cot. “I’ve been camping since I was two. I’ll take the floor.”

Zane looks from me to Gunnar and back again. “So I have to decide whose feet will be in my face all night?” He eyes my socks and then the other alphas’. “Easy,” he declares. “Hockey Boy it is.”

He’s been insulting me all night long—all day, really. Something about the way he does it that makes it feel less like a true threat, and more like a form of camaraderie. Granted, it’s been a while since I spent any time around other alphas.

We all shuffle into our places for the night, silently maneuvering around each other until Zane breaks the silence again. “How long does it usually take you mountain-dwellers to fix your roads?”

“A few days,” Micah replies, pounding a fist into his cushion and lying back on it. “They can’t start until the snow stops, though.”

Everyone turns to look out the wall of windows at the back of the room. An insistent deluge falls from the sky, creating freshly fluffed piles all over the back porch.

Goddamn it.

Gunnar grunts. “What do we do if we need stuff?”

Zane chortles. “If? Mountain Man only has one bed, and his taste in groceries is appalling. We definitely need stuff.”

Micah hums thoughtfully. “Especially if Emma starts nesting.”

Right. Her heat.

My teeth grit on a smothered growl. How the hell am I going to send her away if she’s about to go into heat? Or, worse—what will I do if it happens early?

“When I was checking the bump on her head before she went to bed,” Micah goes on, solemn and quiet. “Her forehead felt warm, and she mentioned that being around all of us might speed things up for her.”

Low-grade panic thrums under my skin as a possessive rush rears up in my chest. I fight both down, repeating all the facts I’ve chanted to myself since the moment Micah pulled Emma out of her car.

She can’t stay.

She doesn’t belong here.

She doesn’t belong to me.

I don’t have anything to offer her.

And she deserves everything.

I may not know much about Emma, but I already know that. The little omega we rescued is kind, with more love than most and a stunning willingness to share it. I’ve never seen anything like it—never met anyone so confoundingly open.

She should have a pack of generous, protective alphas who can meet all of her needs when she goes into heat. Not some flashy, shallow asshole like Zane. Or someone as lost as Gunnar.

Or me. Even if I weren’t ten years too old for her, I’d still be all wrong. Rough and hardened and just… better off alone.

Of all of us, Micah might be the only one here I could stomach for her. But she would still need other knots. And a goddamned nest.

Fuck. I’m barely holding my Alpha back as it is. If she goes into heat while we’re stuck here, will I be able to force myself to leave? I already feel less than three heartbeats away from bending her over the nearest hard surface every time she drifts too close.

I could snap into a rut and terrify her.

I’ve seen that happen before. And knowing I put even an ounce of fear on that sweet little thing’s face would smash the hardened remnants of my heart to bits.

“She can’t stay here,” I snarl, low. “I’m not equipped for an omega in heat.”

Gunnar tosses me a look. “Yeah, no shit. You don’t even have a Christmas tree.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Zane makes a ponderous sound. “Omegas like homey shit. Blankets and pillows and twinkle lights. You know, Knox, if you wanted in on this whole courting thing, I bet Emma would love a big tree and stockings and a few garlands⁠—”

“Enough,” I bark, unable to stand the odd, seething stomach flip his words invoke. “I don’t decorate. Because I don’t have an omega. Or a pack. I’m sure as hell not going to get a bunch of Christmas stuff airlifted in with our groceries. You’re all leaving the minute the road is fixed.”

Thick silence pulls taut between all of us.

Micah finally clears his throat. “Actually…” he says, “I don’t know what any of your plans are, but I don’t want to be away from Emma. I was planning to call the station tomorrow and take some leave. I want to offer to stay with her for her heat, if she’ll have me.”

My insides coil tighter, envy burning bright. Zane rolls up onto his side, looking down at Micah through the dark. “Oh, she would. She told me she wants to see what this would be like. As in all of us—together. You know, if we can do the whole courting thing and still get along, somehow.”

But that’s not possible.

None of this is. The courting, the heat. These guys.

I can’t have a pack. I’ve proven as much.

Even if I could, I wouldn’t want three strangers in my head. And I wouldn’t want to share my omega with outsiders, either.

That’s the way bonds work, though. If Emma wanted all of us, we would have to bond with her individually because we aren’t a pack. If we did that, she would be split between the four of us forever.

No, I correct myself, the three of them.

I’ll never trust myself to be alone with her. The very thought of what might happen is unacceptable. I refuse. She deserves so much better.

“Court her if you want to,” I practically growl, flexing all of my control. Needing it in order to hold my Alpha down while he thrashes against the painful reality unfolding under my own damn roof. “But don’t make her choose one of you before her heat. She’s going to need more than one alpha. So you all need to figure out how to share, at least temporarily.”

Gunnar grunts his thoughts about sharing with a terse, “Goddamn it. I really am stuck with you fuckers, aren’t I?”

Another thick beat of shock echoes through the room, while my Alpha’s rage gathers. Zane finally sighs, “Guess so, Hockey Boy. I know I can’t say no to her. Have you seen her face?”

He has a point. How will I say no to her if she asks? Telling these guys is one thing, but looking into those big, hopeful green eyes? Telling her all the reasons I could never do right by her?

Damn it all to hell.

When I can’t come up with one single solution, I tell myself I must be too tired to think straight. It’s late, and it’s been a hell of a day. I’m sure the fact that all of my blood has been circulating through my dick instead of my brain for the last twelve hours isn’t helping.

Nothing I can do about that now. God knows I can never use that masturbator again without reliving Emma’s horrified giggles.

Sighing, I lie back and try to force my eyes shut. The rest of the room falls into silence reminiscent of a bunk room at summer camp. I hear Zane rolling from one shoulder to the other. Micah breathing deeper, Gunnar rearranging his blanket.

None of us have anything left to say.

I tell myself it isn’t my problem what any of these guys choose to do, but as minutes slide past, I find myself clocking everyone’s breathing, paying attention to who falls asleep first, second, and third.

Gunnar is last. My restless mind wonders what kept him up so long… and if a certain omega upstairs might be having the same issue.

When my Alpha abruptly stops pacing my middle and settles with an exasperated huff, I get the sinking feeling I’m only at peace because everyone else finally is.

I’m not sure what to make of that, but I know I don’t like it.

There’s a thin band of pink light on the horizon when I open my eyes. The pale sun burns my retinas while I restart my thoughts. For a second, I don’t remember why the fuck I’m in my living room.

Then, Zane snores.

With a grumble, I push myself upright and rub my crusted eyelids.

I slept like shit the first half of the night, then dropped into the deepest slumber I’ve ever had. The others seem to be in the same state, each of them knocked out cold.

Except for my dog. He comes sniffing at my hand, licking the knuckles.

“What are you doing down here, traitor?” I tease, ruffling the fur between his ears. “I thought you were all about the little miss upstairs now.”

He chuffs at me, clearly expecting to go out for our usual walk despite giving me the cold shoulder all day yesterday. I start to roll my eyes, but they catch on a tartan-wrapped bundle wedged between Micah’s big body and Zane’s spot on the sofa.

Emma.

She must have wandered down here in the middle of the night and brought my only throw blanket with her.

Is that why I finally got some rest? Did my Alpha hold out until she was nearby?

More importantly: did she have such a hard time being away from us that she couldn’t sleep either?

McKinley whines softly, nosing at Emma’s blonde curls. I wave him back to my side, petting his head. “That’s why you’re here,” I realize. “You came down with her?”

He leans into my leg, looking back at the omega with an intent expression; because he wants her to come on our walk, too. I exhale hard, bending to pull the blanket away from her face, pausing to brush her hair back before I even know what I’m doing.

The silky strands sift through my fingertips, and for just a moment, I let myself stare.

It’s something I avoided at all costs yesterday. Even when my instincts insisted I hold her in my lap after she passed out… I did everything I could not to look at her face too closely.

But now, in the buttery morning light, with my mind at half-speed, it suddenly doesn’t seem so dangerous.

It suddenly seems… necessary.

She really is beautiful.

So much softness and light. Her bright hair and brows, the rounded apples of her cheeks. Her sloping little nose. The chin that wobbles between tears and giggles in the most endearing ways.

The word I can’t allow myself to accept bubbles back up. I said it twice yesterday, lost to the heat of her haze. Then, I vowed to myself that I was wrong.

I had to be.

This is clearly a mistake. Because I don’t deserve her, and I can’t take care of her. She’s already been through so much. The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to someone so kind.

But the word reverberates through the very core of me. Louder with every step I take in retreat.

Over to the closet where I keep my outerwear.

Out the back door.

Across the fresh field of snow sprawled over my property.

Mate.

Mate.

Mate.