Page 14 of Knot My Sin

This omega may use her hair as a shield as she looks down at the floor, but I know she has a button nose, hazel eyes that feel as if they can see down to your soul, and pouty lips.

“It’s better this way,” she says with a smile, glancing up at me. There’s so much pain in her gaze, it makes me take a step back. Fuck. “I’m really not meant to be here or anywhere. No one wants me here, and that’s okay. I’ll just start walking and let fate take me.”

“No,” I snarl. Tears threaten to fall as I shake my head. “What the hell happened to you? You can’t just give up.”

“Why not?” she asks, tilting her head inquisitively to the side. “You don’t know me, and nothing will ever get better.”

Now that she’s finally talking to me, I’m torn between asking her to shut the fuck up with her terrible words, and begging her for more. If she’s here talking to me then she won’t leave.

“I want to know more. I bought you, and I don’t know what drew me to you. What’s your name?” I ask her. There’s a desperation in my voice that makes her stare at me.

“Wren,” she murmurs. “It’s what he calls me. I don’t actually remember my name.”

Darlin, you’re killing me right now.

“Please stay? You have to be hungry, Ambrose’s cheese isn’t going to do shit to sustain you. I’m making berry French toast pudding,” I tell her. “I’m craving something sweet and really fucking bad for me. Be my partner in crime and eat with me?”

“I still need to go,” she says almost gently. “I can’t stay here.”

“But why?” I ask her. Wren starts to walk past me, and I stumble backward trying to stay ahead of her. I don’t want to cage her in or actually stop her, I want the decision to be hers.

“Okay, I’m sorry. It’s not my business. We don’t know each other like that yet. Strangers eat breakfast together all of the time. Eat with me, and then maybe take a shower? It’ll make you feel better. If you still want to go afterward, at least you’ll have real clothes on.”

“What clothes?” she scoffs, sounding like discordant musical notes from her lips. This is an omega that should be cherished, in fact I feel that all omegas should be adored and happy. Just because I don’t like people very much, doesn’t make this any less true.

“I have clothes coming out of the dryer,” I say quickly. “They may be big, but they’ll be better than what you’re wearing.”

Wren’s lips purse as she thinks. “Can I shower and dress now?” she asks.

“Now?” I ask. Wren flinches, as if waiting for me to hit her, and I swallow hard as I glance at the timer. My food needs to cook for a bit longer, so I nod. God help me, but I want to give her something, anything to keep her from looking at me the way she is now.

“Yeah, of course. Let’s do it. I’ll grab you some clothing now, and then you can shower. Come on,” I murmur.

Wren doesn’t seem to trust it as she continues to stand there. “I can shower alone?” she asks.

“Darlin’, please,” I groan. “I have never fucked a girl before in my life, I’m not about to have the first time be against her will. You’re going to shower alone, but I will be checking on you to make sure you’re not drowning yourself. I’m taking everything sharp out of the bathroom too.”

Wren stares at me for a moment before giving me a sharp nod. I wish I knew what was going on in her mind. An omega with a death wish wasn’t in my plans when I decided to make breakfast for us.

“Come with me then,” I murmur, moving to the side so we can walk together. I don’t trust her at my back, no matter how tiny and sad she is. I grab a hoodie of mine, a towel, and frown as I realize I don’t have anything she can use as underwear. “Fuck, I don’t have panties or even boxers that will fit you.”

Wren shrugs, taking the items from me. She's careful not to touch me, and while I can appreciate it, it’s not necessary. This little omega isn’t affecting me in any of the destructive ways we’re taught we will when a foreign omega is in our space. Everything I’m going on is theoretical physiology.

Growing up, I remember in school that most girls were catty even before they were awakened as an omega, alpha, or beta. I had a fantastic childhood outside of that, since no one really cares what your sexual preference was.

Men, women, it doesn’t really matter when you find your scent match. There’s this inescapable draw to the person or people, and all you want to do is spend time with them. The instinct to mate, bite, become pack is everything.

“Who is ‘he’?” I ask her as I start to move toward the bathroom downstairs. None of us typically shower down here, so there shouldn’t be a razor or anything inside. There is shampoo, conditioner, a bar of soap, and a random new toothbrush though.

This could be Shaw or Ambrose’s work, but I don’t know. They both are very particular about keeping things well stocked, ‘just in case’ there’s a need for it. It’s everything I can do to make sure it doesn’t enter hoarding territory.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she murmurs as I check over the bathroom.

Gazing at her, I feel this odd feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s the same reason I yelled out an absurd bid yesterday, and why I feel almost protective.

“The bathroom’s all yours,” I say. “I really wish you’d talk to me.”

“Wishes and prayers don’t mean much to me,” she whispers as I step back and she shuts the door. I stand outside the bathroom as I listen to her turn on the water, and then force myself to go check on the food.

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