Knot Giving In

1. Lily

Lily

Rain trickles down the cab window like the tears I’m failing to hold back. My forehead presses against the cool glass as we slow to a stop, and I catch my first glimpse of the Haven.

The mansion rises against a backdrop of snow-capped mountains, its stone walls draped in climbing ivy that shifts in the wind. Wrought-iron gates stand open, leading into a place that seems almost ethereal in the light afternoon haze.

My stomach churns. The word haven feels too soft for what I need.

“Are you getting out, or should I keep the meter running?” The cab driver's voice slices through my thoughts. I flinch, gripping the strap of my duffle bag.

“Sorry.” I dash the tears from my eyes and press a wad of bills forward. “I’m getting out.”

My hand trembles as I open the door. Cool mountain rain hits my face as I step onto the gravel driveway, my boots crunching underfoot. The driver pulls away, leaving me standing in the rain, water trailing through my hair as I follow the path to the looming mansion.

Double doors swing open as I reach the entrance, and a Beta steps out. She’s dressed in a navy blazer, her hair pulled back in a neat bun. A faint scent of soap drifts toward me. Everything about her radiates calm professionalism, but I can’t help the instinctual tightening in my chest.

“Lily Grace Bennett?” She glances up from her tablet, a small, reassuring smile tugging at her lips.

I grip my duffle tighter. “Just Lily,” I murmur, managing a weak smile.

“Got it, Lily.” She nods as she steps aside, holding the door open. “I’m Savannah. We’ve been expecting you. Come in, let’s get you settled.”

I hesitate at the threshold. Warm air greets me, carrying the faint scent of something floral. Subtle but soothing.

This place is meant to be a sanctuary. A space to breathe, to let go. And right now, I need that more than anything.

I take a deep breath and step inside.

Holy—

The foyer is massive. High ceilings arch overhead, and polished wood floors gleam under soft golden lights.

A sweeping staircase curves up to the second floor, while hallways stretch out on either side of me.

The walls showcase photographs of fields of wildflowers and misty forests.

Even the chairs along the walls, upholstered in soft gray, whisper of comfort rather than refuge.

Savannah moves to a sleek computer at the welcome desk, her fingers flying over the keyboard as I stand in front of her, dripping onto the floor.

“You’ll be in Room 7 on the second floor,” she says, glancing at her screen. “We’ll go over your stay details another time. For now, let’s just get you settled in.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, heat rising to my cheeks as a small puddle forms beneath me. My gaze flicks to the stairs—a room with a lock is the only thing keeping me from bolting back into the rain.

She hands me a small key with a metal tag stamped with 7. Her eyes catch on my wrist, lingering for a moment on the silver bracelet with its delicate engraved initials.

“That’s lovely,” she says with a genuine smile.

My pulse quickens as I tug my sleeve down, fingers brushing against the cool metal. “Thanks,” I murmur, dropping my gaze to the floor as my voice constricts.

The bracelet feels heavier than it should, like an anchor tethering me to something I haven’t managed to let go of yet.

I swallow hard and adjust my grip on my bag, forcing the thoughts away.

Savannah doesn’t push, her attention shifting as she turns back to her computer. “Raphael will help you with your luggage. He’ll be here in a moment to show you to your room.”

***

A sharp scent of cedar and musk floods my senses. My grip tightens on my bag as I turn back and look up.

I instinctively draw back at the sheer presence of him. An Alpha.

He looks like the type of man who doesn’t just walk into a room—he owns it.

He’s at least 6’2, broad-shouldered and all lean muscle.

He fills out a gray henley that does nothing to hide his athletic build.

A day’s worth of stubble darkens his jaw, and his raven hair has that perfectly messy look that makes my fingers itch to run through it.

Even the way he stands, confident and sure, seems too commanding for a place like this.

“Lily Grace, right?” His voice is low and smooth, but there’s an edge of authority that rubs against my nerves. His blue eyes sweep over me methodically, like he’s already assessing where I fit into his world. A muscle ticks in his jaw, and something hot and dangerous flares in my stomach.

“It’s just Lily,” I say, my voice clipped, trying to ignore how small I feel under his gaze.

“Lily, then.” His mouth curves into a half-smile that probably makes most women weak in the knees. “I’m Raphael. But people call me Raph.”

His eyes drop to my duffle bag, and he reaches for it without hesitation.

I step back, clutching the bag tighter. “It’s fine, I got it.”

He moves closer, his intoxicating scent wrapping around me.

"That bag is almost as big as you are," he says with an amused edge. "Let me help."

Without warning, he grabs the strap, his fingers grazing mine. A jolt shoots through my body.

“I got it,” I blurt, hoping he doesn’t notice my blush.

His brow furrows. Then his mouth pulls into that infuriating smirk again. He crosses his arms, the movement making his biceps flex beneath his henley. “Stubborn little thing, aren’t ya?”

I blink, caught off guard by how shameless he is. “I’m fine, really.”

“You sure about that?”

Those dark blue eyes lock onto mine, challenging. Heat crawls up my neck, but I force myself to meet his gaze, even as my heart pounds traitorously against my ribs.

“Well.” he finally says, his voice rough. “Your choice.” He turns toward the stairs. “Try to keep up.”

I freeze for a moment, thrown off by his abruptness, before my feet move on their own. I trail after him toward the staircase, my eyes betraying me as they track the flex of his back muscles with each step.

As he reaches the stairs, he glances back. “You coming?” His tone is flat, like I’m now a tedious obligation.

I grit my teeth, quickening my pace, and start up the stairs with the duffle bag heavy on my shoulder.

The polished wood steps gleam under soft lighting, their elegance a stark contrast to my ascent.

I mask my struggle, refusing to give him another reason to be smug. But the bag shifts, yanking me off balance, and my boot catches on the step before I can recover.

Strong hands stop me right before I hit the stairs, steadying me effortlessly.

“Careful,” Raphael murmurs, his voice low and close to my ear.

For a moment, I freeze. His chest is firm against my back, solid and unyielding. One of his hands spans my waist, and I’m achingly aware of how small I feel in his grip.

Heat spreads across my face as I stiffen in his hold. "I'm fine," I mutter.

He takes his time to remove his hand from my waist, and when I dare to glance up, that exasperating smirk plays at his lips again.

My pulse races, but I refuse to acknowledge it.

I tighten my grip on my duffle and follow him as he continues up the stairs, focusing on my footing.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. But it won’t work on me.

Minutes pass before we stop at a mahogany door marked with a golden 7.

"We're here," he says, barely sparing me a glance.

I slip past him, fish my key from my pocket, and step inside.

The words die in my throat.

The room is spacious, with a plush queen bed, rich wood furniture, and Victorian artwork adorning the walls.

Floor-to-ceiling windows flood the space with natural light, framing a view that steals my breath: sprawling gardens unfold in a tapestry of vibrant blooms and winding stone paths.

Wildflowers spill over the edges of neatly trimmed hedges, blending order with untamed beauty.

Beyond the gardens, sweeping meadows rise gently toward a mountain range, their snow-capped peaks glinting through the soft afternoon haze.

“Impressed?” His voice holds a note of genuine pride.

“Are all the rooms like this?” The words slip out.

“Yeah.” He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “The founder believes environment shapes healing. Spared no expense making sure every inch of this place helps people get back on their feet.”

“I can’t believe a place like this exists,” I whisper, moving toward the windows.

“You were lucky to get a room on such short notice.”

The words hit like ice water, dragging me back to the desperate phone call I made from the cab, the terror that drove me here still fresh enough to taste. My hands start to shake.

Relax Lily. You’re fine.

“This is your space,” Raphael interrupts my thoughts, still leaning against the doorframe like he owns the place. His damn scent fills the room now and makes my head spin. “You’ve got your first intake session in twenty minutes. Room 201, aisle C, downstairs.”

I blink at him, my stomach clenching.

Intake session? I just got here, and now I'm supposed to sit down and—what? Bare my soul to someone?

My fingers tighten around my bag strap.

"Is this mandatory?"

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back some arrogant comment. “Afraid so. Rules are rules,” he says, straightening up.

My attention snags on him. Everything about Raphael feels... off. If the Haven is supposed to be about healing, he doesn't belong. He's too intense. Too Alpha.

“Why are you here?” The question slips out before I can stop myself.

He raises an eyebrow. “I work here.”

“Obviously,” I say, my voice sharper than I intend. “But why?”

For a moment, he just looks at me, unreadable. Then that insufferable smirk returns. “Maybe I like helping people,” he says, his tone dry enough to turn the ocean to sand. “You should get ready. Twenty minutes isn’t much time.”

And with that, he turns and walks out, the door clicking shut behind him.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and drop my duffle onto the bed. My heart is still racing.

It’s just stress… being somewhere new. Not him. Definitely not him.

I unzip the bag, pulling out a change of clothes. My hands move automatically, but my mind keeps replaying the moment I stumbled. His firm chest against my back, the strength in his hands, how comfortably small I felt in his grip.

I shake my head, trying to push the thought away. He’s an Alpha. Of course he can have that effect on me. It’s biology, nothing more.

I strip out of my jeans to pull on a pair of soft lounge pants when I see it. Slick. Clinging to my thighs.

Damnit.

I wipe it away with a fresh towel, my jaw tight, then push open the tall sash window. Cool air rushes in, slowly diluting the lingering trace of his scent.

“It doesn’t matter how my body wants to react,” I mutter, yanking my shirt over my head.

I’m here to get back on my feet, not to get tangled up in anyone else’s.