Page 32 of Knot Your Pucking Secret

Lennon’s eyes only seem to darken in anger with every single word she speaks. But for once, her ire isn’t directed just at me.I’ve hit a nerve there where her uncle is concerned. Maybe I’m a little slow. Maybe something has already happened.

“You deserved to know.”

“You don’t get to tell me what I deserve, Holden. You failed in that department. Like everyone else. You failed me. How are you any better than the rest of them?” She closes her eyes, her knuckles whitening as she grips tighter to her keys. She’s trying to calm herself down but it is futile. She is turning feral. The build up of everything is too much. I did this to her. This, this reaction is because of me.

I lean in, bending to her eye level, but she still doesn’t give me her attention, completely gone to her anger. I don’t blame her. But I refuse to walk away while she’s like this. I won’t abandon her again. I’m not like the others. I’m certainly not like her piece of shit uncle, even if I’m doomed when it comes to her and I being more than colleagues.

It took everything in me not to kill that motherfucking uncle right where he stood. But I couldn’t do that to her. That’s the only reason he’s still breathing. I don’t want her to think I just walk around plotting her family’s death for the fun of it. I’m nothing like Patrick.

I move, picking her up, and turning, throwing her over my shoulder before she can register what’s happening. Like I had expected, she immediately starts fighting me. Good. That means she isn’t completely gone. At least not yet.

Chapter Twelve

Lennon

Who the fuck does he think he is?

I rain down punch after punch on Holden’s back even as he continues to walk back into the arena. I scream as many colorful profanities as I can possibly muster, demanding that he put me down. I should hardly be surprised that he’s manhandling me. I shouldn’t have expected anything less from an asshole like him.

Holden Woods does whatever the fuck he wants with no consequence. Time doesn’t stop that from being a fact. I should have known that what he said before was total bullshit. Because if he really wanted to make amends, not that I’m in the business of handing out forgiveness, then he’d know when to leave well enough alone.

I am blind to where he’s leading us until he walks through a door and switches on a light. Gym equipment comes into view, even though it’s upside down and blurred around the edges.

I can feel myself turning feral. Even though I can’t trust a single thing that Holden or an Alpha says, I know that what he’d overheard was true. I’d already figured as much with Julian.He’d told me enough about Brett to inform me that he’s not going to take my buying the team lightly. By now, he’d be aware that I’m the new owner and coach. Ruining his fucking plans completely. Men like him hate being shown up in business. Even more so when that amount of money was on the line. While Julian told me Brett was unaware of how much was at stake, it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out.

Julian had assumed that Brett had bigger plans than acquiring the money. I was just another stepping stone in his very private, very corrupt business plan. I wasn’t a long lost niece that he was desperate to get to know. I was an inconvenience he needed to remove so he could carry out his plan.

Thanks to Julian, I now have a will of my own. Can’t fucking trust any of these traitorous assholes if my life depended on it. So if Brett thinks he’s getting it now, he doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.

If Holden wants to get back in my good graces like he is currently trying to do—even if my current predicament is less than desirable—he will back me up with what he overheard. But that’s as far as I am willing to take our relationship.

“Put me fucking down, Woods. I swear to fucking God, I’ll trade you so fast!”

He doesn’t respond which only pisses me off even more. Once we get to wherever he has decided, he slides me down his body, allowing me to feel every single hard edge of him.

I hate the way my body reacts.

The dampening of my thighs.

The way my anger morphs into something so not fucking suited to the moment.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the need building in my core to dissipate. The desperation for the relief I know he could give me right now, even though that’s the last thing I want from him.

Or maybe I do. No. I will not give in to this.

That would be surrendering, and I refuse to do that.

I remain silent as Holden steps away, and my eyes roll over his body, noticing the tension in his broad shoulders. The way his eyes tell me he wants this just as much as I do. That our instincts will always be in the driver’s seat because he is my scent match. Fuck fate. And fuck him. He’s been pining for me all this time. Followed me back home to make sure I was okay. I don’t know whether to strangle him, or fuck him through this anger and that only makes this worse.

Grabbing a roll of tape and a set of boxing gloves, he takes my hands in his, wrapping them with slow, practiced precision before sliding the gloves over my fingers and fastening them around my wrists. I let him. My body almost vibrates beneath his touch, every nerve ending hypersensitive as his rough fingertips brush against my skin with a tenderness I never asked for. I don’t want his care. I want him to bleed. To hurt. To fight. To finally understand what it feels like to have something ripped out of you that you can never get back.

Because I’m tired.

I’m tired of all of it.

I don’t want this. I don’t want my every thought to be of Ars Mortis. I don’t want to remember the way their bodies felt writhing with mine as they fucked me into oblivion. I don’t want them to be the last men to have touched my body. I don’t want fate to win, and I sure as fuck don’t want the universe to keep insisting these men belong to me after everything they’ve done.

Taking a step back, he gestures toward my hands.