Knot In My Wildest Dreams – Violet Dawn

This is bad. This is really bad. A soft knock at the door makes me turn. “Luna?” Beau’s voice, careful and concerned. “Are you awake?” “Yeah.” “Can I come in? I need to check your temperature.” I hesitate, then unlock the door and step back. Beau enters carrying a medical bag, his expression professionally neutral even though I can smell the tension in his scent. He’s changed into comfortable clothes—worn jeans and a thick sweater that makes him look softer, more approachable.

More dangerous to my defenses. “How are you feeling?” he asks, setting down the bag. “Better. The soup helped.” “Good. Rowan made it. He’s been cooking all afternoon—nervous energy.” Beau pulls out a thermometer. “Open.” I comply, letting him check my temperature while his scent—pine and lemon balm—wraps around me like a blanket.

“One hundred point two,” he announces, relief clear in his voice. “That’s better. Still elevated, but better.” “The storm looks bad.” His expression tightens. “It is. Weather service is calling it a historic blizzard. They’re recommending everyone stay inside until it passes.” “How long?” “At least through tomorrow. Maybe longer.” He meets my eyes. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t ideal—being stuck here during your heat.

But leaving isn’t an option right now. The roads are already impassable.” A different kind of panic flutters in my chest. Stuck here. With them. For days. “Hey.” Beau’s voice gentles. “It’s okay. We’ll manage. You have your space. We have ours. The house is big enough that you don’t have to see us if you don’t want to.” “What about—” I gesture vaguely. “What about my scent? Won’t it—” “Drive us crazy?”

He offers a wry smile. “Probably. But we’re grown men, Luna. We can handle our instincts. You don’t need to worry about us.” “That’s not—I don’t want to make this harder for you.” “You’re not making anything hard. Well—” He stops himself, clearing his throat. “Poor choice of words.

The bus rumbles to a stop at the edge of a town that looks like it’s been dipped in sugar and starlight. I press my forehead against the cold window, watching snowflakes drift past streetlamps wrapped in evergreen garlands. The town sign creaks on its wooden post, wearing a crooked Santa hat someone must have nailed there as a joke.

WELCOME TO SWEETBAY HOLLOW WHERE WINTER STAYS A LITTLE LONGER. Beneath the main lettering, someone has scribbled a smaller addition in red marker: AND THE COCOA IS ALWAYS HOT. A weak laugh escapes me. Cute. Wholesome. Exactly the opposite of everything I’ve known for the past three years. Sweetbay Hollow sprawls before me like a scene from a holiday card— shop windows glowing amber, wreaths hung on every door, twinkle lights strung between lampposts in swooping arcs that make the whole street shimmer.

I’ve never seen anything like it. My old pack’s territory was all glass towers and concrete, sharp edges and sharper voices. No one hung lights there. No one baked gingerbread or hummed carols in the grocery store. Christmas was another obligation, another performance, another reminder that I was decorative at best—useful when my scent was needed to soothe tempers or smooth over pack politics, forgotten the moment I wasn’t.

I swallow hard and pull my threadbare coat tighter. That’s over now. You left. You’re safe. The bus door hisses open, and I step down into the snow with my single duffel bag slung over my shoulder. Cold air bites sharply at my cheeks, carrying the scent of pine sap and woodsmoke.

Somewhere nearby, a bakery is baking something cinnamon-sweet. My stomach twists with hunger and nerves. The bus pulls away, leaving me alone on the corner of Main Street. For a moment, I just stand here, breathing in the quiet. No honking horns. No crowded sidewalks. No voices shouting my name, demanding I come here, go there, smile prettier, scent softer. Just snow falling gently onto my dark curls and the distant sound of bells chiming from the town square. I exhale slowly, watching my breath fog in the air.

This is it. A fresh start. The Cozy Book Nook bookshop sits three buildings down, its green- painted door framed by a string of golden lights. The windows display stacks of novels surrounded by tiny ceramic reindeer and frosted pine branches. A hand-lettered sign in the window reads: Cozy reads for cold nights. We brew tea. My heart squeezes. I found the job listing online two weeks ago, posted by an elderly Beta named Betty, who needs help during the holiday rush.

The pay is modest, but it comes with a small apartment upstairs—exactly what I need. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere far away. Somewhere no one knows what I am. I make my way down the snowy sidewalk, boots crunching softly. A couple pass me holding mittened hands, their laughter warm and easy.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 87d79cfd37b00b2b
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,828,230 bytes (1.744 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 230
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 334.05 minutes
• Total Words: 66,810
• Total Characters: 380,127
• Average Words per Page: 290.48
• Average Characters per Page: 1652.73

Most Frequent Words

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