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

This, quite simply, cannot be real.

I must have died in that car crash. Or I’m in a coma. Something bad. Because this can’t be my reality.

Fading quivers of achy need echo through my lower abdomen. Right now, those trembles are the only convincing proof that this might actually be happening.

That… and the all-too real swirl of scents sinking into my lungs.

Even that’s too good to be true, though. Enchanted mountaintops and snowy pine trees and spicy warmth. Especially now that the sweet, salty nuttiness I’ve dreamed about all year is woven in the mix.

Because Gunnar Sinclair is… here?!

Gunnar. Sinclair.

Here.

Now??

Does not compute. Cannot compute.

And maybe, probably, should not compute, because this has to be a hallucination.

The fingers sliding into the damp hair at my nape don’t feel like a mirage. They’re solid and warm, drawing gentle circles that raise the fine hairs there.

I blink at Gunnar’s handsome face—his square jaw and mussed, highlighted hair—peeping the only question I can think to ask. “Are you really here?”

His warm smile pulls into something pained. “Twelve months too late,” he admits. “But, yeah, I really am.”

The air between us thickens. When I finally manage to drag in a gasp, the taste that skims over my tongue widens my eyes.

It hits my throat and a sharp whine shatters out of me. Because it’s just… impossible.

Unfathomably good.

A mix of all of them. Woody and spiced and rich and fresh. My whole mind melts and twirls, blotting out the room as my core convulses with fresh need. Perfume pours out of me, infusing the alphas’ world-ending aroma with cinnamon sugar.

Gunnar leans closer, raking in a breath and sloughing it back out on a ragged moan. “Fuck, you smell so good, Em.”

My inner muscles give a wet squeeze at hearing him husk my name. The delicious salty richness pouring off his skin has me whimpering for more. A shaky exhale bursts from his sculpted lips as he crowds closer, setting his forehead against mine.

“Yeah?” he asks, gray eyes brimming with emotion. “You feel this, too?”

A thick lump wedges its way into my gullet. How is this happening? How can I possibly feel this way about all of them? They aren’t an established pack; and the match service told me the Dunlaps were my mates.

No, my Omega snaps, nearly barking at me. These are your mates.

I don’t know how, but I know it’s true. So I ignore the lightheaded panic soaring high inside my head and nod at Gunnar. “I—I feel it.”

His eyes fall shut, relief and despair tearing at his handsome features. “Did you know?” he whispers, squeezing his eyelids tighter. “That night…?”

The sting of rejection returns full-force, just as strong as it was last New Year’s. My scent shifts, and Micah’s purr hitches into a low growl, his muscles twitching around me protectively.

“I thought I felt it,” I manage, my voice thick. “But the champagne and the de-scenter… and then you were gone, and you didn’t ever come back⁠—”

Zane interrupts, straightening and snapping forward. “This asshole left you somewhere?” His eyes bulge as they fly to the alpha behind me. “What are you waiting for? Kill him, Micah.”

Micah frowns deeply, as if he’s already considered the idea. After a tense beat spent tracing my face with his hazel gaze, he sighs. “Don’t think I can. Our little omega likes him too much.”

But that’s the problem. I like all of them.

Way too much.