Page 42 of Torment Me Knot
She's fuckingstunningand she doesn’t seem to know. She’s different to the omegas, all lean muscle and quiet strength, but no less alluring. Her wet curls cling to her neck and her amber-gold eyes are fixed on Espie and Aubrey, checking they're okay, always checking on everyone else—
Gods.I'm a pervert. My mates are standing right there, and I'm ogling the female alpha who just bathed them. I shove the thought down and rummage in Kev's bag. There's another set of clothes at the bottom. I pull them out and hold them toward her.
“These are for you.”
“Uh, thanks,” she says. Surprise flickers across her face, like she didn't expect anyone to think of her. I don't like that look on her. She should know she'll be looked after here. We barely know each other, but it doesn't matter. Our omegas have bound us together. She's pack now, whether she realizes it or not. Funny how quickly the realization lands like it was always there.
We walk Espie and Aubrey back to the bedroom. Espie leans on Sera. Aubrey's fingers graze the inside of my wrist. I keep up my purr the same way Sera keeps her purr going. My mate’s skin is against mine, warm from the bath and smelling sweet and clean.
My throat closes. My eyes sting. He's letting me be close. Exhaustion might be doing the work that trust can't yet, but he'sletting me.
I'll take it. I'll take anything.
They walk to the corner behind the bed, back to the duvet on the floor. They lower themselves down, slow and stiff, every movement costing them. Espie tucks herself against Aubrey's chest and his arm wraps around her. For one moment I think this is it. Progress. They're clean, warm, safe, and maybe—
Aubrey drags the duvet over both their heads, sealing themselves inside.
Gone. Three feet away from me andgone.
Chapter Fifteen
Espie
Warmth pulls me from sleep. Body heat soaks through cotton, pooling in my joints, loosening muscles I've held clenched for years. My brain keeps waiting for concrete under my cheek, for the chemical burn of suppressants, for the guards’ boots on concrete heading for my door.
The waiting is a reflex now.
But there's only warmth. And Aubrey pressed against me.
He's chest to chest with me, his breath slow. Our legs are wound together under the duvet, my knee hooked over his hip, his arm heavy across my waist. I don't remember moving closer in the night or reaching for him. My body did it without asking permission, the same way it's been doing everything lately.
Even in the dim light, the sharp jut of his collarbone shows through the pajama shirt, the hollows under his cheekbones deep enough to cast shadows. He's so thin. Starved down to bones and angles, and it makes me want to burn the world. But his face in sleep is soft. Long lashes fanned against pale skin. Ash-blond hair falling across his forehead. He's beautiful, even wrecked like this. Maybe especially wrecked like this.
We match.
His scent fills the space we've made. Cedar and chamomile, warm from sleep, mixing with my gardenia until I can't tell where he ends and I begin.
My shaking has stopped, or at least faded to a tremor I can ignore. My heartbeat is steady. No scramble to figure out where I am and who's touching me.
I woke up and didn't want to run. The thought should scare me. It does, a little, in some distant part of my brain still waiting for the trap to spring. But the fear is muffled, held at arm's length by the warmth of him against me.
Then I remember the bath. Lex’s hands threading through my hair. The purr that rolled from his chest into mine, heavy enough to pull the fight right out of me.
I’d leaned into his touch. I’d wanted it.
The anger flares. Omega biology. Traitor cells and traitor hormones and a traitor designation that makes me soft for any alpha who knows the right tricks. They purr and I melt. They touch me gently and I arch into their hands like a cat. Haven and the Facility should have burned that response out of me, buthere I am, still panting for scraps of kindness from people who could crush me.
Aubrey's fingers flex against my hip. A small movement, but I go still. He's awake. His breathing has changed, gone shallow, and his arm has tightened around my waist. I don't know how long he's been lying here in the dark with me.
“Are you okay?”
Three words. Hoarse and broken, barely a whisper. His voice is scraped raw from disuse. His eyes are open. Hazel-green with flecks of gold, watching me in the dim light under the duvet. Yesterday those eyes were clouded. Now they're focused. More present.
My omega. My scent-matched mate. I still can't wrap my head around it. He’s broken and beautiful and mine. I've known him for no time at all, and somehow he's already become essential. It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense. But he's there like a second heartbeat, his pulse against my wrist where we're pressed together, syncing with mine until we're breathing the same rhythm. Whatever this thing is between us, it goes both ways.
“I'm here,” I say. My voice comes out rough, catching on the words.
His other hand finds mine under the duvet, threads our fingers together, holds on.
