Page 92 of Cruel Knots

“Nah, I don’t get hard for bitchy women,” he replies.

A bubble of hope swells inside me. Kiara can pant after him all she wants but he’s mine. The sudden possessiveness washing over me surprises me. I smile, looking toward the colorful display of clothes and scarves near the tents.

“Hey, Jacky!” Mikhail calls out loudly.

“Mikey!” a young guy hollers back and waves enthusiastically.

“Long time no see,” says Jacky. He’s wearing a dark leather jacket that’s similar to the other bikers here. Dusky red locks fall into his clear blue eyes as he squints at Mikhail. His boots are dusty and the smell of gas clings to him but I can tell he’s a beta. “And who’s this?” he peers at me closely.

“She needs some clothes,” says Mikhail.

“No shit,” he says as an amusing grin spreads over his heavily freckled face. “She’s kind of pretty but what’s with the men’s jacket and those ugly pants?”

“I borrowed them,” I mutter.

“It’s all my fault,” says Mikhail. “She came to us in a beautiful wedding gown but my brothers and I made a mess of it.”

Jacky guffaws like an idiot but he doesn’t seem as venomous as Kiara.

“Get whatever you like,” Jacky says with a shrug. “All on the house. And for fuck’s sake, get her some shoes too.”

I glance at the slippers I borrowed from Lilja yesterday. The delicate material is already dirty and fraying.

“Choose something you like,” Mikhail says, gesturing toward the makeshift racks of clothes and shoes. “We can buy better stuff in town.”

“I can choose whatever I like?”

A frown comes upon him. “Did Callum control what you wore too?”

I give a grim nod. “He said I looked best in dresses,” I say in a bitter tone. “He never allowed me to wear trousers and shorts.”

“Fuck that bastard,” he hisses, his gray eyes flashing with rage.

His anger is like a balm to my aching heart. People only saw a girl who lived in a big mansion. They saw my polished clothes and makeup, assuming I was happy. No one knew the pain and darkness I struggled to suppress every single day.

“Go crazy,” Mikhail says through clenched. “Hell! Walk naked. I’m not going to care and if anyone looks at you wrong, I’ll stab their eyes.”

“Maybe not do that,” Jacky mutters. “For our sakes.”

I laugh, feeling lighter than I’ve felt in years.

Moving forward, I sift through the jeans hanging from the stands. They’re all beautifully embellished with sequins and colorful threads. I choose a bell-bottomed pair with floral patterns sewn onto the thighs.

“Nice,” Jacky says, moving closer to me. “How about you pair it with these tops?” He turns me toward another stand that displays long-sleeved tops in georgette and cotton. They’re all colorful with bold patterns and designs on them.

The omega in me seems to awaken. I forget about everything as I sift through the clothes on display.

Mikhail hovers in the background as Jacky proceeds to show me more clothes, jewelry, and shoes. He doesn’t comment even when I choose to buy a ridiculous sombrero hat with a wide brim.

“Where can I get changed?” I ask while Jacky dumps a scarf inside the garbage bag that contains the rest of my stuff.

“In there,” he says, pointing to a tiny tent nearby.

I glance toward Mikhail, silently asking for his permission.

He gives a slow nod. Picking up the cue, I head inside the tent with the clothes I want to wear for the rest of the day.

Other than a rickety chair, there’s nothing inside the tent. I hurriedly take off the dirty trousers and shirk off the jacket and sweatshirt.

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