Page 25 of Knot Their Princess

“Who?”

Fuck.

He lets out a loud laugh. “I knew you weren’t really mated.”

I blink, and he’s in front of me, his arms on either side of my head, hands resting on the wall behind my back. My breath catches as he hovers over me, head hanging as it tilts to one side.

“What are you doing with Mikhail Petrov?”

My hackles rise at his demand, and I narrow my eyes at him, set my jaw. “None of your business.”

He laughs again, this time, he actually sounds amused. “Fiery. I like that.”

His head drops further, his lips coming close to my ear without touching, and I can’t breathe.

“But you know very well,” he whispers, his breath moving my hair before his mouth travels lower, setting my body ablaze, “that it is absolutely my business.” The growl he emits is deep in his chest, and it sounds like something out of a horror movie, but I’m not frightened. Not in the slightest. Instead, my skin tingles, my chest aches, and so does my pussy.

When his teeth skim along the column of my neck, I want nothing more than for Ilya to sink them into my skin, to mark and claim me.

But he can’t. And I can’t let this go on.

With every last ounce of strength I have, I duck down under his extended arm and rush back into the bathroom.

The interior is just as gorgeous and ornate as the rest of the building, and I twist the cold water on before gripping the edge of the marble sink counter with all my might and glaring at my masked face in the mirror.

This can’t be happening. I’ve never left Los Angeles, hardly ever left the club unless charged with making an escorted supply run, and the one opportunity I receive to get far away from that life, from Mama, I find my Alphas.

But I can never have them because I’ll never jeopardize Matty’s life.

I want them. There is no denying that fact. And how could I deny it? We’re meant for each other. We’ll always be meant for each other.

But Mama will never let me be free. She’d kill me before that happened. And probably kill Matty in front of me first.

I want nothing more than to splash the cold water on my face, but I can’t dare ruin my makeup, even if I have a mask to mostly hide any imperfections. So I run my forearms beneath the tap instead, blotting them dry with paper towels after they’re sufficiently doused.

Before leaving the bathroom, I crack the door a bit and peek outside.

No Ilya. Thank the gods.

I squeeze out the door, trying to call as little attention to myself as possible, noting the lights were all nearly off except the fancy colorful ones dancing around the room from the DJ setup, the chandelier refracting the colors like a million-dollar disco ball.

Distracted by the light show, I cross in front of the ballroom entrance to get back to the opposite side of the room where Petrov and my table is, when I step straight into a wall of muscle.

A wall of muscle that smells just like fresh-baked bread.

I gape up at the man I’m chest-to-chest with and find the Alpha from yesterday’s interview outside.

Ilya and Garen’s handsome friend with curly brown hair and honey-colored eyes.

And that scent of mouth-watering, carbohydrate-laden bread filling my lungs to the choke-point.

I am so fucked.

Chapter Ten

Cade

When Garen first struck out, then Ilya did so, miserably, I kept my eyes trained on Sindella’s every move. When she went back into the restroom, I skulked in the opposite corner under the cover of shadow like a total creeper.