Pack Obsession (Love Knot War #3)

Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

CASEY

I slam my bedroom door and lean against it, heart hammering. The woods, the training, the kiss—it had all been perfect until Logan started pushing about... No. Not going to worry about how his persistence about my heat made me storm away mid-kiss, leaving him standing there in the clearing.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I mutter, pushing away from the door and pacing the length of my room. Five steps forward, turn, five steps back. The walls feel like they’re closing in. Everything feels too close, too intense. My fingers trail along the windowsill as I pass it again and again.

I catch my reflection in the mirror—cheeks flushed, white-blonde hair wild from running my hands through it. I barely recognize myself anymore. A week ago, I was a protected Omega, surviving with my brother, having no idea that Julian had been making plans to kidnap me. Now, I’m here, surrounded by three men who make my head spin and my heart race, and I don’t know how to handle any of the emotions choking me, the desire making me kiss them.

I pause at the window, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. Outside, the trees sway in the morning breeze, peaceful and uncomplicated. Unlike my life, which has turned into a tangled mess of worries, obligations, and things I don’t want to think about. The forest reminds me of training earlier—how natural it felt working with Logan, learning from him… until everything went sideways.

“Just behave,” I whisper to myself, wrapping my arms around my middle. “A couple more weeks. That’s all I need to perhaps have Nexus forget about me. Maybe Julian, too. Then I can figure out where to go next.” The thought of leaving has my chest aching, but I shove that feeling down deep where it belongs.

The knock startles me. “Not interested,” I call out, but the door handle turns, anyway. Of course, I forgot to actually lock it in my panic. Logan fills the doorframe, all 6’3” of solid muscle and quiet intensity. His dark brown hair is windblown, and the jagged white scar disappears beneath his black t-shirt that molds to his broad shoulders. The cargo pants and boots complete his military bearing.

When I try to speak, my response catches in my throat. Those steel-gray eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes breathing difficult. He has this way of looking at me, as if he can see straight through to my soul.

“We need to talk about what happened,” he says quietly, his tone carrying that edge of authority that makes me want to both run and stay rooted to the spot.

“Nothing to talk about.” I turn away, pretending to fluff up the pillows on the bed.

“Casey.” Just my name, but it holds weight. His boots creak on the wooden floor as he enters my room in slow steps, as though he’s approaching a spooked animal. Maybe he is. “Look at me.”

“I’d rather not.” But I do anyway because something in his tone pulls at me. He’s closer now, and I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. The light scruff along his jaw catches the morning sun streaming through my window. A muscle ticks in his jaw, and I realize he’s just as tense as I am.

“Why did you run?”

“Because you wouldn’t drop it.” I cross my arms, trying to build a wall between us. My fingers dig into my biceps. “Some things don’t need to be discussed to death.”

“You mean about your coming heat?” His words softens but remains firm. One step closer. “We need to have a plan, Casey. You can’t just ignore it and hope it goes away.”

“Watch me,” I challenge, but my voice wavers. I take a step back, bumping into the bedside table. “I’ve handled most things on my own. I can handle this, too.”

His expression darkens. “That’s not how this works. Not anymore.”

“No? Because last time I checked, my life was my business.” I lift my chin, going for defiant despite the tremor in my hands.

He closes the distance between us, and my breath catches as he cups my cheek in his calloused palm. I hate how I quiver at his touch, hate how my body betrays every attempt at maintaining distance. His thumb brushes under my eye, and I realize I’m close to tears. When did that happen?

“Sugar, ignoring problems doesn’t make them disappear. Trust me, I learned that lesson the hard way in combat.” His other hand comes up, framing my face, and I’m caught in his gaze. “Lost good men because we didn’t plan, didn’t prepare. I won’t let that happen to you.”

“This isn’t combat,” I whisper, but my hands have somehow found their way to his wrists, not pushing away, just... holding on.

“No,” he agrees. “But the principle’s the same. You need to be prepared. Need to know you have support.” His thumbs trace my cheekbones in matching rhythms that make it hard to think. “Need to know you’re not alone anymore.”

“I barely know you,” I protest weakly, even as I fight the urge to lean into his touch. “Any of you. You’re all... so much. Too much sometimes.”

“Then let’s change that.” His forehead nearly touches mine. “What do you need? To trust us?”

I close my eyes, overwhelmed by his proximity, by the gentleness in his touch that contrasts so sharply with his warrior’s ways. My mind races, trying to find solid ground in this moment that feels like stepping off a cliff. An image flashes through my mind—Axel telling me about his paintings, the way his whole demeanor changes when he talks about it, the smile he wears.

“What if...” I wet my lips, gathering courage. “What if we did something together? All of us?”

His eyebrow lifts, curiosity replacing some of the intensity in his expression. “I’m listening.”

“A painting session,” I say in a rush, my words tumbling over each other. “Something casual, fun. Axel could teach us if we need it. Just... being together without pressure or expectations.” I bite my lip. “Getting to know each other better, in a way that doesn’t involve training or... other things.”

He blinks, and I catch a flicker of hesitation cross his face. His hands slide down to my shoulders, his thumb brushing my collarbone in a way that makes me suppress a shiver.

“Oh, if you don’t like that idea…” I start to backtrack, my heart sinking.

“No, it’s good.” One hand returns to my face, and I lean into it before I can stop myself. “Unexpected, but good. I’ll talk to Nash and Axel about setting it up.”

“Tonight,” I say impulsively, needing this to happen before I lose my nerve, before I can think too hard about how much I want to be around them, despite knowing better.

A slow smile spreads across his face, transforming his features to almost playful. “Eager to spend more time with us?”

“Eager to see you make a fool of yourself with a paintbrush,” I counter, but my response isn’t as steady as I’d like. Not with him still touching me, still looking at me as though I’m something precious and wild all at once.

“I’ve handled worse weapons.”

My heart flips.

“He’s incredible,” I say softly, thinking of the way Axel loses himself when he speaks about his art, how his entire demeanor changes. “I don’t think he even knows it.”

Logan’s expression softens, and something in my chest squeezes.

“Art changed him. You should have seen him before—fucking wild, unpredictable. His demons were eating him alive.” He pauses, considering his words. “Now, painting centers him, gives him control when everything else feels chaotic. It’s like... he found his peace in colors and canvas.”

The tenderness in his voice makes my insides ache. I’ve seen glimpses of their brotherhood, but this feels deeper, more personal.

“You really care about them, don’t you?”

“They’re my family.” His steel-gray eyes hold mine. “He’s going to love having us all there tonight.”

We stand there, caught in each other’s gaze, and I stare at his lips again, just like in the woods. And look where that ended. My throat goes dry as the air seems to thicken around us.

“Well...” I swallow hard, trying to break whatever spell we’re under. “Okay, then. Sounds like a plan.” My words come out breathy, betraying my attempt at casual indifference.

His lips quirk up in a knowing grin that tells me he sees right through my facade. He starts to step back but pauses, something shifting in his expression.

Before I can react, he cups my face again. His lips brush mine, soft and tentative at first, as if he’s giving me time to pull away. But I don’t want to draw away. Not this time. His kiss deepens, his tongue tangling with mine, and the power behind his kiss weakens my knees. This time, he’s gentler, almost reverent, as though he’s trying to tell me something without words.

When he finally pulls back, his expression darkens. His thumb traces my lower lip once, sending tingles down my spine before he steps away.

I can’t help but watch him as he moves to the door, my attention trailing over the broad expanse of his shoulders, lowering to that firm ass, lingering too long. I’m too weak not to gawk, and from his knowing smirk as he glances back, he’s well aware of my wandering eyes.

“I’ll let Nash and Axel know about tonight, sugar,” he says softly, leaving me with burning lips and my thighs squeezing together.

He moves toward the door with that fluid grace that he possesses. At the threshold, he pauses, staring back over his shoulder. “Your instincts are solid, Casey. Don’t doubt them so much.” Then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

I slide down the bed to sit on the floor, my legs too shaky to hold me. The room feels empty now, too quiet without his presence filling it.

“Get it together,” I mutter to myself, pressing my palms against my burning cheeks. “He’s just a man. They’re just men.”

As I head for the shower, hoping to clear my head, I know I’m lying to myself. Logan, Nash, and Axel are far more than just men. They’re quickly becoming everything I told myself I might never have, everything I never thought I deserved, seeing as I come from a broken family who has already lost so much.

That’s the most terrifying thing of all. The closer we get, the more it’s going to destroy me when I finally have to leave. When whatever this is builds to its inevitable breaking point.

Deep down, I know I’m already in too deep. Every touch, every look, every moment pulls me further into their world. They’re warriors, protectors, men who’ve seen and done things I can barely imagine. And here I am, a runaway, just trying to survive. Each day I spend with them only highlights how much I don’t belong in their world, even as my heart tells me I’ve already lost too much to set myself up for loss.

That’s what makes this so dangerous.