Page 39 of Knot My Sin

I guess that’s what it was. I’ve slept dreamlessly for so long, I hope this isn’t a regular thing.

Standing, Ambrose starts to lay down a pillow and blankets on the floor next to me.

God, he’s serious. A part of me wants to deny him this. It feels so wrong. The set of his lips show me how determined he is, until his loosened hair hides his face from me when he leans forward.

“Ambrose,” I say haltingly, his name feeling strange on my tongue.

Turning as he lays on his back on the ground, he pushes his hair off his face. “You can say my name as often as you’d like,” he says softly. “What’s up?”

“I don’t understand any of this,” I admit.

“All I know is that I’m happier where you are,” he says with a sheepish smile. “We’d all be sleeping on your floor if you’d let us, if I’m being honest with you. I have this driving need to make you feel better. We all have it with Flynn as well.”

“You can’t have two omegas,” I protest. Somehow, in the darkness of the night, it’s easier to talk to him. Ambrose doesn’t seem so large and imposing now. “Isn’t it considered obscene?”

“I don’t really give a fuck what people think,” Ambrose says in amusement. “We live the way we want, and have the clout to back it up. We aren’t good men, Wren. We do want to prove to you that we are good alphas though.”

I don’t know what any of that means, but I yawn as I lay in bed.

“Your body needs sleep so it can heal. Pay attention to it so I don’t get banned from sleeping on your floor,” he says. There’s no command, no power behind his words, just suggestions and supplication.

Blinking, I ask the question that’s been running through my mind.

“What if I don’t sleep?” I ask, waiting for the threats and punishments to begin.

“Then you’re tired tomorrow, baby girl,” Ambrose says goodnaturedly. “I’m not your parent, I do want you to be safe, but I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Does that help?”

“Yeah, it does,” I breathe. I listen to Ambrose’s deepening breaths as he falls asleep on the hard ground, and it lulls me back to sleep.

I also don’t dream again tonight.

9

WREN

I’m alone in the room when I wake up, stretching in bed. Yawning, I sit up slowly, wincing at the aches and pains that also seem to all feel like saying good morning as well. Lifting the shirt I’m in, I look down at the scrapes and bruises all over my body.

The ones on my thighs look as if they’ve been done by my own nails, something I’m not surprised as I remember the haze of pain I was in during my heat. Closing my eyes, I wonder if there’s anything I can do, so that I’ll never have one again. I don’t trust anyone enough to be so vulnerable with. I can’t think during that state.

No thanks. Can I just get a shot so I’ll never go into a heat again?

There must have been a doctor who came to see me while I was passed out, maybe he can help me?

Blowing out a breath as I drop my shirt, I turn when I hear a sound by the door. Flynn smiles shyly, and my stomach flip-flops at the sight of it. Biting my lip, I beg my body not to perfume, because I really might die from embarrassment.

“Hey, Darling. You looked like you were thinking really hard, but now you look as if you’re having naughty thoughts,” he chuckles.

Walking over, he crawls into bed, shamelessly wrapping his arms around me as he buries his nose in my throat.

“You act a lot like an alpha,” I tease him with a giggle.

“Maybe I just need a girl in my life to snuggle with me in my nest, who will read dirty books to me, and help me redecorate whenever I feel like,” he says. “I have my moments where it’s obvious that I’m omega, outside of the normal biology of things. I’m really impulsive, love sweets, crave soft blankets, and I’m sure there are other things. God, you smell so good, Wren. Please never use scent blockers again.”

Running my fingers through his short copper hair, I sigh. “I don’t know if I can promise that,” I whisper.

The door is open, but Flynn pulls the blankets over our heads, creating our own little bubble. He seems carefree and relaxed, making me wish I could feel the same. I’m too broken, too much has happened to me, so I know I don’t think I ever will.

“It’s just us,” Flynn says. Our head is sharing the same pillow, his leg casually pushed between my legs. It’s strangely intimate, but I’m not uncomfortable. His arm wraps around my waist to bring me closer to him, his brows wiggling in a way that makes my lips curl into a smile.

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