Page 18 of Knot As It Seems

When I open the door, I’m met with an absolutely massive bag of stuff with a dainty little card sitting on top like an afterthought. When I open it up though, it’s clear it’s anything but.

I find myself analyzing Calloway’s neat handwriting, enjoying the little loops he leaves behind before moving on to the next group of letters. I’m not sure quite what to make of the note; it’s formal and polite, but I can almost tell that he was trying to say something else with the handful of words he gave me.

We’re not all bad alphas here, though we have been through some bad stuff. Don’t let us taint you.

This is just a small offering. I couldn’t sleep without making sure you had everything you might need to be comfortable here. Because Moon is a dick, he didn’t tell you, but the nest you were offered yesterday is completely unused. It’s been waiting for you, it would seem.

This bag is only the essentials for now. If you want the rest, head up to the third floor at the end of the hallway and make that nest yours.

Your hopeful alpha,

Calloway

PS Consider this your first courting gift from me.

I don’t even know when he had time to go shopping forme, but the fact that he made it a priority and nobody else did, speaks volumes.

Feeling my heart softening at the thoughtfulness when nobody ever thinks of me, I decide to go thank him in person. After pulling the bag into the room and rifling through it, of course. I feel way too giddy getting my grubby hands on all the nice products, planning ahead for a hell of a bubble bath later.

My omega is preening in my chest, acknowledging the alpha wants us to be comfortable and finding him a good option for us. The gift is way too much of course, but nobody has ever given me such nice things before, and if the note is to be believed, there’s more tucked away somewhere in this veritable mansion.

Consider this your first courting gift from me…

Is that something I want? Something I’m ready for? I suppose I’m technically being courted by Anderson now, but that feels less intimidating than entering into a similar situation with Calloway. Is it the fact he put it in writing that’s making it feel like such a big deal? I guess I won’t really know if that’s what I want for sure unless I spend some time with him. How does he already know that he wants me, though?

Maybe if I get Calloway on my side, some of the other alphas won’t be so openly hostile and I won’t feel so uncomfortable in the house I’ve just decided I’m commandeering.

They are my scent matches, after all.

I need to hear from this alpha exactly what their experience with my sister was, because as angry as I am for how Winslow carried out everything regarding this pack, ifthey had nothing to do with keeping me in the situation I was in, then carrying all that resentment into my new situation won’t do anything but make my life more difficult than it needs to be, and I’m kind of tired of living a difficult life.

As I follow Calloway’s scent to his room, I try to put a voice to the feelings rampaging in my chest. I’m incredibly fucking offended none of them figured out that my sister wasn’t an omega, that she was hiding me behind walls when I so desperately needed to be rescued, but if I find out they were all living this blissful life with her, it’ll be even worse and I don’t know if being scent matches will ever be enough to overcome it.

Why did they never use the nest with her? It makes some sense, I suppose, since Winslow was just a beta and therefore lacking the intrinsic need to nest when she was nearing a heat or was feeling unstable or needed a bit of extra comfort, but they were with her foryears.

These alphas are getting interesting.

I don’t knock, because if he’s irresponsible enough to be caught with his pants down, that’s on him. No reflection on me.

Calloway’s room is so dark it takes me several moments to adjust, even though it’s got to be late morning by now. I lift the curtains just the tiniest bit to see where he’s lying so I don’t accidentally knee him in the face; that’s a second date activity.

Deep in the throes of sleep, he’s absolutely stunning. Hell, he’s a stunner of a man regardless. Black hair that’s got to hit him at midback with big, wild waves in it, pulled into a ponytail. The sides of his head are shaved though, thehair slightly tapered near the top of his head where the long hair grows. His jaw is so fucking angled that I could wash laundry on it, if that were my kink. Dark, straight brows and small gages in his ears, deep olive skin and scratchy stubble that’s kind of making me crazy.

I know my scent is sweetening for him, but I can’t control it any more than I could yesterday in front of all of them.

I want to cry, sitting here like this, with complete access to him. How many times have I wondered about this scent? How many times did I picture what the alpha that produced it looked like? He smells kind of like a tea party in a blooming meadow, which should absolutely not work for an alpha as big and hard as he is, but it’s somehow endearing.

He looks exhausted. The circles under his eyes are visible even in the low light, and I quickly close the curtain because I feel bad waking him up now. He must have been up all night shopping for me, and maybe there was an ulterior motive there, but it was so unnecessary and so absolutely lovely of him to do, that I feel unbalanced.

While I’m debating what to do, his arm snakes out and wraps around my middle, pulling me into his body. At first, I’m stiff, not sure where he’s going with it, but when it becomes apparent he’s still very much asleep, I can’t fight the comfort it gives me to erase old memories of his scent and replace them with this. Tucked into his massive bed that feels like a cloud, shrouded in artificial darkness and being held because it’s instinctual for him to do with me.

I don’t think I want to know how many times he did this with my sister.

Fuck.Yes, I do.

Me pulling away wakes him, and the wave of hurt that flows into that emptied space is incapacitating. I want to rage at all of them, demand to know why they didn’t come find me sooner, why they hate me, but all I can do is let the feelings run though me, leaving me metaphorically bleeding out on the bed I was just admiring.

Later, maybe I’ll be impressed with how quickly he goes from dead-to-the-world-asleep to awake-enough-to-sit-up so he can pull me into his lap to offer comfort I can’t decide if I want. For now, I’m fighting for my life, sobbing as wave after wave of hurt works through me, hollowing me out.