Page 28 of Knot His Beast
CHAPTER 9
Bentley
He loves my singing.There’s not a soul in the world that can tell me he doesn’t, not even him.
…which will be happening in three…two…one.
“Why the fuck are you in front of my store?” Tav snarls.
I’ve made it my business to find out his name, not that the grumpy fucker has bothered to give it to me. Every day, I learn something new about my grumpy omega. Scent matching never lies, and he’s meant to be mine.
He comes out and yells at me, while I struggle not to adjust my cock that’s punching against my zipper. I’m a stalker, not a pervert.
Octavian Jones is one fine omega specimen. His hair is always wild, his lips snarl as I ignore his yelling and continue to play a country song. Variety is the spice of life, and my internal playlist is a bop, y’all.
There are a few things that are already concerning me from my time spent watching him. Tav often walks with a small limp, his temper is sometimes worse than others as if he’s having a hard day, and he’s hiding his scent from the world.
Even while having a full blown temper tantrum, there’s a very little hint of his scent on the light breeze blowing on Bright Street today. The street name his record store is on always makes me snort with mild amusement since his disposition is less than sunny, but goddamn are the yellow flecks in his dark brown eyes mesmerizing.
I’m obviously obsessed with him, and I make it a habit of making sure he thinks about me often, even if it’s simply to yell at me.
“I can’t hear you,” I belt out, smirking as he growls at me from outside his record store. Aw, it’s adorable. My song transitions into one about being grumpy that’s originally sung by Buck 65, and his nostrils flare in annoyance.
He’s so much fun to play with. My guitar case is full of crumpled dollar bills, which I plan to donate to Hands Over Pine City on my way home. My life is much fuller than when I first moved here a month ago. I’ve been singing for Tav for at least three of those weeks, and when I’m not here or working, I volunteer.
I like to think that I’m pretty well rounded, despite the stalking.
“You’re panhandling!” Tav yells. “Could you stop fucking playing?”
“Why?” I ask. “As you can see, people enjoy it.”
All the while, I continue to strum my guitar, though I’m now conversing with the omega whose head might just pop off from frustration. He’s so easy to fuck with. I’m actually considering suggesting that he try yoga or some shit.
“Your voice is too sharp,” Tav complains. “I have perfectly good music inside.”
“Great, an invitation. I accept.” I wink, squatting down to pick up the money so that my guitar will fit. My scar isprominent on my hand nearest to Tav, and I note the way that his eyes drag over it.
I had a disagreement with the edge of a knife while I was cleaning some fish I caught and the knife won.
I’ve spent time looking into his finances, checking to see if he has any friends, and I’m still working through what I’ve found. Tav doesn’t have friends, but his record store does pretty well for itself.
He’s definitely no slouch in pinching pennies and making his dreams come true. I dig it.
“Excuse me?” he seethes, pulling me out of my chaotic thoughts. “I did no such thing. I want you gone… or I’m calling the police.”
“That’s adorable. I’ll just move to the other side of the street and sing even louder,” I say, standing with my guitar case. “Or… you could go on a date with me and I’ll pack it in for the day.”
An adorable blush climbs the bridge of his nose. His glasses would hide it if I wasn’t so attune to everything about him right now. I have it real bad.
“I don’t even know your name,” he grumbles. “No. You know what? You’re not my type.”
Barking out a laugh, I shrug. “Have it your way. I guess I’m going to go shopping for some new music. You can be as grumpy as you want. Please, don’t change on my account. The blue in your shirt looks really good on you.”
He gives me a slow blink at my flirting, as if he doesn’t know what to make of me. That’s really good, because I like keeping him unbalanced. He’s less likely to throw something at me if he can’t calculate my next move.
He’s too damn distrustful for his own good.
Closing up my guitar case, I stand with its weight in my right hand. Tav snarls at me angrily while I keep the case between usfor a bit of distance. He’s mad enough to swing at me and I’d hate for him to hurt himself.
