Page 91 of Knot My Sin

“Wow,” he mutters. “My knot is definitely going to be blue today. Honey, you look incredible.”

“Told you so,” Flynn chuckles under his breath.

I can’t stop smiling as I reach the bottom stair and Amb steals me away from our omega.

“All mine,” he rumbles, brushing his lips against mine. I swallow back a whimper because I want more, though I should have worn scent blocking panties as well, because my body gives me away.

I don’t have to hide, though. Not from them.

“Oh yeah?” Amb rumbles with a mischievous grin. “Mmm, we’re going to have fun. We’re leaving! Don’t burn down the house.”

“Take care of our girl,” Shaw says sternly, his eyes greedily taking me in.

“Goddamn,” Everest mutters. “You’d need the virtue of a saint to withstand that dress.”

My lips twitch as Ambrose ushers me out of the house. The wind blows my dress around my thighs as I walk, making me giggle as I attempt to keep it from blowing up.

“It shouldn’t be as windy where we’re going,” Ambrose says sheepishly, rubbing his neck as he opens the garage door to reveal a sleek black truck.

Ambrose opens the passenger side door, and then wraps his hands around my waist to lift me into the seat. My breath escapes in surprise as he smirks at me. He’s strong, isn’t apologetic about it, and is flexing his gentleman skills. It’s really hot.

“It’s just a door, honey,” he teases me as he puts on my seatbelt as well. It’s so much more than that, and I can feel my eyes prick with tears as I watch him close the door and walk around the truck.

I feel cherished, cared about, and there’s not been very much of that in my entire miserable life. Forcing a shuddering breath into my lungs, I stare out the window as I struggle to get my emotions under control. They’ve been shifting like the wind outside, and I’ve never been like this before.

Control has always been the way that I’ve stayed alive. No tears, no stray noises, no mistakes. Anything less led to punishment at Trey’s hand.

No thank you.

Ambrose opens the truck door and climbs in, pressing the push to start button to turn on the vehicle. Swallowing hard, I try to get my breathing and tears under control. I’m supposed to be having fun, not falling apart because he was fucking nice to me.

Ambrose gives the truck a little gas, quiet as he drives. I almost wish he’d chatter or put the radio on, because even my breaths feel too loud as I gulp in air.

“So, did I do something wrong?” he asks carefully. “Your scent is a little off, and Shaw is currently yelling at me through our bond asking why you feel so sad.”

“I…” How do I explain this without sounding insane?!

My nose is starting to run to make matters worse, making me sniffle as a wayward tear makes its lonely path down my face.

“Fuck, I made you cry, didn’t I? God, I haven’t courted anyone in ten years. I suck at this, honey, I’m sorry,” he grumbles.

Turning, I shake my head, wishing my hair was down so I could hide behind it.

“No,” I deny, sighing. “I’m over sensitive. You’re so sweet lifting me into my seat and everything, and it made me think of how much I’ve missed. I haven’t had anyone make me feel like I’m…”

“Everything?” he asks wryly. Ambrose keeps his eyes on the road as he reaches out and links his fingers in mine. “Wren, that’s what you are to us, for me. Knowing we threw a part of ourselves away will never stop torturing us. We fucked up, and you deserved better. You need a place for yourself, comforts to make you feel at peace, all the things omegas need to center themselves.”

“I don’t need stuff though,” I tell him, shaking my head. The last thing I need is for them to think that I want them for their money. None of that matters to me.

Being rich doesn’t make someone a good person, just look at Trey.

“Wren,” Ambrose chides. “Omegas crave safe spaces. It’s in their DNA, honey. You’re twitchy at times in the house, you stare out the window all day long, your instincts are trying to tell you there’s something wrong. If not wrong, maybe missing is a better word.”

“I don’t think there’s anything else that I need,” I tell him, but the words taste like ash in my mouth. I have to keep myself from making a face, because of how awful it feels.

“Mmhmm,” he grunts. The truck makes its trek down to the gate, making me sigh. “Look, I don’t think we should lie to each other, Wren. Would you like to try again?”

The way he says that makes my lips twitch as I brush away the tear that finally slips off my jaw. I really hate leaking so much.

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