Chapter 42
forty-two
Violet’s Knots In Shining Armor
Ryker
Hurry your ass up
Finn
she’s just walking downstairs!
cool your jets, lion
Ryker
I never should have let her tell you about that nickname.
Finn
and I never should have gotten you texting if you’re just going to harass me every two seconds.
Ryker
It’s been sixteen seconds.
Now, like I said—hurry up.
As we’ve established, I am utter trash at courting.
But I think, maybe…
Well, we’ll see.
I carefully crafted every bit of this evening, from tracking the weather like a hawk to screening about fifteen YouTube videos on how to weave flowers.
Why, you ask?
That’s a great fucking question.
The man I was a month ago would have balked at the very thought of going to all this trouble for another alpha. And, really, it’s for Violet, not Ryker, but…
C’mon. Someone has to help the poor bastard.
Things have taken a drastic turn for the better since Violet’s impromptu pack meal last week.
Apologizing and opening up to her were the main factors—but I also noticed how much she appreciated me bringing everyone together.
It seemed only natural for me to continue…
and, for better or worse, Ryker and I have the same mate.
We have to figure out how to make her happy. Together.
It’s also been surprisingly difficult to watch the big guy struggle. Ryker so clearly loves Violet just as much as she obviously adores him; it’s eternally unfair that their fucked-up past has made it hard for them to physically reconnect.
So when I had an idea to potentially make things a little easier…
I figured, what the hell?
It can’t exactly make things worse.
That may not be true anymore, actually. Because this afternoon, when Violet found me lingering outside her room—with a fresh pair of pilfered panties burning a hole in my pocket?
She smiled.
I’m still dazzled by her grin when I finish twirling her into a hug. “Hey, firefly,” I murmur, nuzzling her temple. “I have something to show you. Where’s your shadow?”
I already know, but she’s not supposed to. Violet leans back and cocks a sassy brow that makes my stomach flip. “Ryker is downstairs, I think. I was crafting with Gideon, but he texted me and sent me here to you…”
The glowing curiosity on Violet’s face makes all my simp behavior well worth it. I flash her a grin and start to tug her into her room. She stumbles after me, giggling, “You rogue, it isn’t even time for our bath yet—”
Her eyes fall to the items I’ve laid out on her bed. There’s a periwinkle dress, a pair of ribbon panties I totally stole and reluctantly washed, hair ties… and one other thing.
She floats forward, automatically reaching for the one homemade item in the batch. My lungs prickle as I hold my breath, watching her examine the braided circlet of white daisies. Her scent somehow darkens and sweetens at once.
“Finn,” she whispers, lightly touching one of the small petals. “What did you do?”
I shrug, unable to resist the urge to wrap my arm around her waist for a reassuring squeeze. “There’s a surprise, out in the meadow. No makeup or jewelry necessary, but I figured I’d help you with your hair.”
Her eyes light up when I mention her meadow, and I can’t help my answering grin. She bounces an excited glance at all her hair stuff. “How about a braid?”
A braid? Ha! I’m about to blow her mind.
“You got it, baby,” I tease, nipping her shoulder. “Come, sit in front of me. And let me tell you the story of the time I stole all the frogs from the biology department’s dissection lab and set them loose in Gideon’s ex-girlfriend’s sorority house.”
Half an hour—and eight very impatient texts from my hairy blond packmate—later, I lead Violet out the manor’s back doors with my hands over her eyes.
The dark irony is not lost on me: the last time I attempted this, I was trying to give her a much fancier, more expensive gift…
and she clobbered me with her damn frying pan.
This time, the only things I bought are the pure white daisies I wove into a crown.
They’re perched on her head, carefully fastened into the fishtail braid I learned from TikTok.
Violet can’t see it yet, but the area I set up earlier glows like a beacon, backlit by the sunset. I also catch Ryker in the distance, prowling in circles like a big, caged cat.
Huh. I guess “lion” was a good nickname for him.
I walk Violet halfway across the meadow before pausing. A giddy surge swoops through my lungs. Fuck, I hope she likes this.
“You ready, firefly?”
Violet nods against my palms. I drop them and step to the side, presenting her evening plans with a flourish.
Personally, I don’t think they require much explanation.
I did my best to turn the outdoor “bedroom” into a romantic oasis.
A Persian rug, a king-sized bed, gauzy, pale green linens—all arranged under a twisty Crenmore oak tree.
Complete with twinkling fairy lights, of course, and clusters of my favorite paper lanterns.
The bed was the hardest part of the equation, honestly.
It was easy enough to rescue the abandoned wood frame from our garage—and the piece is sturdy, too.
But Ryker’s Alpha had a shit fit when I suggested a new mattress…
Which meant we had to carry his down three flights of stairs to get it out here.
All while Gideon kept Violet busy in their craft room for most of the afternoon.
Even though he was in on every part of this plan, Ryker looks just as stunned as Violet does. He’s frozen in place, facing us.
Waning sunlight bounces off his white henley and heaving chest. I watch him drink in our omega. His eyes linger on Violet’s exposed shoulders and bare neck. Pride sings in my chest as her mouth drops open.
“I—Finn—did you do this? For…?”
I shrug off her disbelief, going for a casual tone as I stuff my hands in my pockets. “Ryker told me how hard it’s been for you guys, getting into a groove after everything you went through. I think spending some alone time, out of the house, will make a big difference.”
There are no walls out here to remind them of the place they met—where, to my knowledge, they were always trapped inside, under fluorescents. There aren’t any harsh lights in the meadow, either.
I tilt my head toward my packmate. “Ryker liked the idea, but he was”—planning to throw a blanket on the ground, which is nowhere near good enough for my mate— “having a hard time with aesthetics. So, I offered to help.”
I don’t clarify that all this bonding happened via text. Honestly? At this point? I don’t care if the scary fucker never actually speaks to me. He loves her, and he’s willing to go along with my whole romantic scheme to prove it. That’s good enough for me.
Hell. I might even be lucky… And he just might deserve our girl in a way I never will.
Tears cling to Violet’s voice as she blinks up at me. “Y-you planned this for us? You’re really not staying?”
The fact that she looks a little disappointed makes my heart soar and stammer all at once. I hate to keep myself from her, but we have a plan, damn it. So I shake my head.
“Not tonight, baby.” My voice drops low for privacy. “I think Ryker needs you all to himself for this… but I promise I’ll be in my room the whole time, with my window open. If either of you needs me, just call my name.”
Violet sways, fully relaxing into my embrace for the first time ever. Her forehead finds the swath of bare skin at the top of my button-down, rubbing her incredible honeysuckle perfume there.
My grin nearly splits my face. I earned a real scent-mark.
“Thank you,” she breathes, her brilliant gaze beaming up at me. “Finn… this means more than any gift ever could.”
Relief loosens the air in my lungs. They vibrate for her as pure satisfaction warms my blood.
Because I’ve finally figured it out.
Violet doesn’t want things.
She wants safety. And space. And sunshine.
All the knots she can get surely won’t hurt, either.