Page 163 of Knot my First Rodeo

"Fuck."

Autumn's hand finds my arm immediately.

"We have to tell them." My voice is hoarse.

She looks up at me, eyes hazy, still floating on the endorphins of the bond. But clarity seeps in fast, and she nods, jaw tightening.

I look at her and my chest tightens. She doesn't look scared or trapped. She looks happy, radiant even, and that hurts more than if she hated me.

Because she trusts me completely, and I’m not deserving that trust right now.

"I know," she says.

The bond carries everything she doesn't say aloud.

I'm with you. We'll face it together.

She squeezes my arm once before letting go.

We clean up in silence. I help her into one of my flannel shirts and then I pull on jeans, no shirt, because I can't stand the idea of covering my chest, my skin, the scent of her all over me.

She takes my hand when we walk downstairs. By the time we reach the kitchen, every muscle in my body is locked tight. They look up when we enter, and I feel the shift in the air immediately. They can smell it.

Tripp's eyes narrow. "What the hell happened?"

Autumn steps forward, and I let her. She tugs the collar of my shirt down, just enough to expose the mark on her shoulder. The distinct shape of my teeth.

The room goes dead silent. Clint drops his screwdriver, and it clatters against the floor, loud.

"You marked her." His voice is low.

“We haven’t talked about marking, at least not since your heat,” Tripp adds.

“I didn’t ask,” I confess immediately. “I went into rut and marked her.”

"You marked her without asking. Without consent?" Clint spits as his eyes narrow at me.

"Clint—" Autumn starts.

"Don’t defend him, Autumn." Tripp stands up, fists clenched. "He lost control. He rutted and bonded you without your permission."

"I gave it⁠—"

"He didn't ask!" Tripp roars, and I see the vein pulse in his forehead. "He's supposed to be better than that! We're supposed to protect you!"

I don't say anything. I can't. Because they're right.

Clint crosses the room in three strides. He grabs me and shoves me backward, hard. I stumble, hit the doorframe, and let him drag me outside.

The gravel bites into my bare feet. Tripp follows, slamming the door behind him, and I hear Autumn scream from inside.

“Stop! What are you guys doing?!”

Clint spins me around, and his fist connects with my jaw. The impact snaps my head to the side, stars bursting behind my eyes. I taste blood, copper and salt, but I don't raise my hands. I don't block.

"You son of a bitch!" Clint's voice cracks. "She trusted you! We trusted you!"

Tripp steps in next. His punch is square to my cheekbone. I hear something crack, maybe bone, maybe cartilage, and warm blood drips down my chin.