Knot Happening Again (Claimverse Book 2)

The conference room door slams behind me as I storm out.

Fucking vultures.

I’ve spent the last three hours arguing with the PR team Maddox made me hire, considering all this is way above his pay grade, about how to handle this shitstorm with that asshole reporter, and I’m no closer to a solution than when I walked in.

‘Mr. Carver, please reconsider⁠—’

I whirl around, fixing the PR rep with a glare that could melt steel. ‘For the last time, no. I won’t drag Ophelia into this mess. She’s been through enough.’

The woman—Sarah? Sandra?—flinches but stands her ground. ‘A joint statement could help smooth things over. The public loves a good redemption story⁠—’

‘I don’t give a fuck what the public loves,’ I snarl. ‘Ophelia isn’t some prop to be trotted out for damage control. This conversation is over. Figure out something else, or you’re all fucking fired.’

I stalk away, ignoring the frustrated whispers behind me. My hands clench into fists as I reach the elevator, resisting the urge to punch something.

How did everything get so fucked up so fast?

The ride down to the parking garage gives me a moment to breathe, to try and get my temper under control. It doesn’t work. By the time I reach my car, I’m still seething.

I slam the car door and grip the steering wheel, knuckles white. This is all my fault. If I’d just been honest from the start, if I’d had the balls to stand up to my parents years ago… but I didn’t. And now Ophelia’s paying the price for my cowardice.

Still.

The drive home is a blur of anger and self-recrimination. It isn’t until I pull into the driveway that a new scent hits me—clean, crisp, like fresh linen and ocean rain. Ophelia’s heat is over.

For a moment, I forget how to breathe. The realization crashes over me as soon as I step in the door, as soon as I feel the shift in the energy of my packmates, gathered around the kitchen counter like they’re staging an intervention. And there’s only one thing it could be.

She’s fully marked now.

Mated.

To Rhys, Troy, Mace and Maddox.

My inner alpha wants to be jealous, irrationally. And I am, but mostly all I feel is… relief. She’s safe now, protected. Loved. Everything I should have given her years ago.

Rhys is the first to look up when I come in.

‘Hey,’ he says cautiously. ‘How’d it go with the PR team?’

I grunt, not trusting myself to speak without snapping. Maddox’s eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t push.

‘That bad, huh?’ Rhys gives me a sympathetic grimace and offers me a beer I take only a swig of. I must look like a mess if he’s offering alcohol.

‘I’m dealing with it,’ I tell him.

‘In or out of prison?’ Troy asks, always the one to break the ice.

‘Har fucking har,’ I mutter, taking a swig of my drink. ‘The journalist backed off the idea of pressing charges when Maddox pointed out that little scandal he had last year at a rut bar that he really doesn’t want his wife being reminded of. So far, that’s more than those assholes at the Right Image have managed.’

‘Right. Well, uh.. Ophelia’s heat broke a few hours ago,’ Mace announces. ‘She’s been asking for you.’

My heart skips a beat. ‘She has?’

Maddox nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. ‘Yeah. She’s upstairs in her nest if you want to see her.’

I hesitate, torn between the desperate need to see her and the fear of what I’ll find. I don’t want her getting the wrong idea if my alpha instincts make me react less than perfectly to the sight of her other marks. ‘Of course I do. I guess she wants to announce it herself.’

She seems to enjoy torturing me, and I can’t say I blame her, but the little minx may be disappointed to know that more than anything, I’m happy for her. All of them.

The others exchange a knowing look.

‘It wasn’t planned or we would have given you a heads up,’ Mace offers.

‘Don’t. No reason to,’ I tell him. ‘This is the way it should have been from the beginning. I’m happy for all of you.’

And I mean it. Even if they’re now close to her in a way I might never be, I’m glad she has them. Glad they can give her what I couldn’t.

‘Leon.’ Rhys’s voice is gentle but firm. ‘Go talk to her.’

I nod, swallowing hard as I head for the stairs. Each step feels like I’m climbing a mountain, my legs heavy.

I pause outside her door, raising my hand to knock. Before I can, her voice drifts through the wood.

‘Come in, Leon.’

I push the door open slowly, drinking in the sight of her. Ophelia’s curled up in a nest of blankets and pillows, her raven hair a tangled halo around her face.

She looks… softer somehow.

More at peace than I’ve ever seen her.

My eyes are drawn to the fresh mating marks on her neck, a vivid reminder of what I’ve lost. What I threw away.

‘How are you feeling?’ I ask, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

Ophelia stretches, catlike, before sitting up. ‘Better. Clearer.’ She pats the edge of the bed. ‘You can come closer, you know. I don’t bite.’

I move to sit beside her, careful to keep some distance between us. ‘I’m glad you’re feeling better. I know your heats have been… difficult.’

She snorts. ‘That’s an understatement.’ Her blue eyes search my face, and I fight the urge to look away. ‘How are you doing with all of this?’

I shrug, not sure how to answer. She shouldn’t care. My feelings should be the least of her concerns, but that’s Ophelia. Innocent. Kind. And far too forgiving. But even an angel has her limits. ‘It doesn’t matter how I feel. As long as you’re happy and safe, that’s what counts.’

Ophelia pins me with a look, as if she’s trying to suss out any deception in my words. But she’ll find none.

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ I say with a wry smile. ‘I’m jealous. I’ll always be jealous of any other man who touches you. Especially one who leaves his mark on you. Even if he’s pack. Even Rhys.’

My words seem to surprise her, but she says nothing. I continue, ‘But I’m just glad that after all these years, you’re finally getting the life you deserve. The life I should have given you. And I’m glad to know my pack is everything to you I should have been back then.’

There’s a war behind her eyes, two opposing factions I won’t even try to pretend I understand. Truthfully, I don’t know why she didn’t tell the others to throw me out and lock the door the day we both found out who the other was. But she’s not like that. And that twists the knife of guilt in even deeper. Knowing I threw away something I never deserved to begin with.

Ophelia takes a deep breath. ‘I want to try moving forward. All of us. Together.’

‘Ophelia…’ I struggle to find the words. ‘I don’t deserve⁠—’

‘Stop.’ She cuts me off. ‘This isn’t about what you deserve. It’s about what I want. What we all want.’

Hope blooms in my chest, fragile and terrifying. ‘And what do you want?’

A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth. ‘I don’t know. Things can’t go bath to the way they were, but… I guess I’m willing to find out what they could look like. With a fresh start.’

My eyes go wide and I realize I’m not doing a good job of playing it cool, but what’s the point? She already knows I’m a fucking idiot. And now, after that incident at the press conference, a hotheaded idiot. ‘Well, for starters… how about a date?’

She blinks, as if surprised by that answer. ‘A date?’

‘Once all this media circus dies down and we can go out without being harassed,’ I tell her. ‘I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.’

This time, the smile tugging at her lips matches the glimmer of mischief in her eyes. ‘A date,’ she muses thoughtfully. ‘Okay. I want to see who you are now, Leon. The man you’ve become.’

‘I’d like that,’ I say softly. ‘More than you know.’Belonging to NôvelDrama.Org.

Ophelia’s smile widens. ‘Of course, if you want to start making it up to me sooner…’

I tilt my head, not sure what she means, until she shifts, spreading her legs beneath the blanket. My mouth goes dry as her scent hits me—clean and sweet, with an undercurrent of arousal and the recent heat that makes my head spin.

‘I’m not willing to let you come,’ she says, her voice low and husky. Just in case I needed any confirmation that she wanted me in here while the others were fucking her to torture me. ‘But if you think you can control yourself… you’re welcome to taste. And prove you can be worthy of fucking me again.’

For a moment, I’m sure I’m dreaming. But Ophelia’s gaze is steady, challenging. Daring me to prove myself.

‘Are you sure?’ I ask, my voice rough with need. ‘What about the others?’

She rolls her eyes. ‘They know I’m up here with you. We’ve talked about this, Leon. We’re all figuring it out together.’

I nod, unable to form words as she pushes the blanket aside, revealing smooth, pale skin. I move between her legs, breathing in her intoxicating scent.

‘Remember,’ Ophelia says, a hint of steel in her voice. ‘You don’t get to touch yourself.’

The corners of my mouth tug upward as her enticing scent calls to me, beckoning me deeper. ‘So you were torturing me before.’

‘Of course,’ she says, as if it should be obvious, spreading her legs a little wider. She reaches between her legs and spreads her pussy open with her fingers, impossibly compounding the temptation. ‘And a part of me just wanted to be surrounded by my whole pack.’

Those words strum a cord buried deep within me. She considers me her pack, too. Fuck, I don’t deserve it, but I’m not going to give her reason to doubt it.

I intend to start slow, but I bury my face in her pussy instead, like a man starving. And that’s exactly what I am. Starving for her. After those first few ravenous licks that elicit a moan from her, making her hand fall away, I manage to restrain myself to teasing licks and gentle kisses. Ophelia sighs, her fingers tangling in my hair. The taste of her explodes on my tongue, and I have to fight to keep from growling with pleasure.

I take my time, savoring every gasp and moan I draw from her. My cock aches, straining against my jeans, but I ignore it. This isn’t about me. It’s about Ophelia, about proving that I can put her needs first.

Her thighs begin to tremble as I focus on her clit, alternating between broad strokes of my tongue and gentle suction. Ophelia’s grip on my hair tightens, her hips rocking against my face.

‘Fuck, Leon,’ she gasps. ‘Right there, don’t stop⁠—’

I double down, determined to make her fall apart. My tongue works faster, circling her clit with relentless precision. Ophelia’s thighs clamp around my head, her hips bucking against my face as she chases her release. I groan into her, the vibrations making her gasp.

‘Oh god, Leon, I’m so close,’ she pants, her fingers tightening in my hair.

I redouble my efforts, alternating between broad strokes of my tongue and quick flicks against her clit. Her taste floods my senses, intoxicating and addictive. I could spend hours like this, worshipping her with my mouth, drawing out every moan and whimper.

Ophelia’s back arches off the bed, her body going taut as a bowstring. ‘Leon!’ she cries out, her orgasm crashing over her in waves.

I don’t let up, lapping at her greedily as she rides out her climax. Her thighs tremble against my cheeks, her fingers alternating between tugging at my hair and caressing my scalp. The dichotomy of pain and pleasure only spurs me on.

As her shudders begin to subside, I ease off, placing gentle kisses along her inner thighs. My cock throbs in my jeans, begging for attention, but I ignore it.

‘Fuck,’ Ophelia breathes, her chest heaving. ‘That was…’

I look up at her, drinking in the sight of her flushed cheeks. Her hair is a tangled mess, spread out on the pillow like a dark halo. She’s never looked more beautiful.

‘Was that okay?’ I ask, suddenly unsure. It’s been so long since I’ve been with her—with anyone—like this. The fear of disappointing her again gnaws at me.

Ophelia looks at me through heavy-lidded eyes, a satisfied smile on her face. ‘Not bad. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.’

I laugh softly, ignoring the painful throb of my neglected cock. ‘I aim to please.’

She reaches out, cupping my cheek. ‘Thank you. For listening. For not pushing.’

I turn my head, pressing a kiss to her palm. ‘I meant what I said before, Ophelia. Your happiness is what matters most to me.’

‘I know.’ She yawns, stretching languidly. ‘Now get out of here and go take care of that.’ She nods toward the obvious bulge in my jeans. ‘I need a nap.’

I stand, adjusting myself with a wince. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

As I reach the door, Ophelia calls out. ‘Leon?’

I turn back. ‘Yeah?’

She smiles, soft and genuine. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

My heart swells. ‘Me too, Ophelia. Me too.’