Page 29 of Knot Your Rebel

It suddenly occurs to me that this alpha is being demanding but not the domineering one I saw in the woods earlier tonight.

Strong hands slip under my knees and the small of my back before I’m being lifted into his arms once more. He carries me to my room and sits me down on the bed. Suddenly, I’m thankful I had the mind to change the sheets before I started drinking.

“Fuck.” He curses, probably seeing the mess of shredded clothing and bedding at the bottom of my bed on the floor.

I concur. Fuck, indeed.

“Tate…” His name comes out in a whisper, almost as if I'm afraid to say it out loud.

He grabs my chin to look up at him even though my eyes keep falling closed. “Sleep, Rebel. You’re okay. We can talk about things tomorrow before I bend you over my knee and make that ass red with my hand prints. What you did, staying here tonight, was reckless. The fact that you tried to have Nova lie to us about it was even worse. Whether you fucking like it or not, you are my damn responsibility, and I do not take that lightly. So you will obey me. You will behave. And you will not put yourself in compromising situations like you did tonight. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” I grumble.

He grabs my chin, forcing my eyes to find his. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now sleep.” My eyes fall closed again, and I’m aware that he’s removing my bra and putting another shirt onto me. Then he’s pulling off my leggings and slipping my legs under the blankets before pulling those up my body, covering me.

I curl onto my side. The scent of the shirt reminds me of him. Safe. I hear him shuffling around the room before complete silence greets my ears. Time passes by, and I hear the angry voice of my best friend. “Why the fuck did you mark her?”

“Because she’s fucking mine.”

It’s the last thing I remember before darkness greets me once more like an old friend.

twelve - tate

. . .

Somehow, I knew she wouldn’t be where I left her when I went to get us drinks, but I didn’t expect her to run. Fear and anger permeate the bond between us. Guess I should care, but the fucked up, jaded part of me doesn’t. She’s mine now. There is no changing it as much as her little heart desires.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I log into my app, and what I see on the screen turns my blood cold. Her room is destroyed. The sheets on her bed are shredded. Bras and panties haphazardly thrown on the floor are also shredded. A few pairs are crumbled together, and I zoom in, noticing there’s a shiny, creamy substance on the outside of them.

Did this fucking freak use my mates’ underwear to get himself off? Apparently, he has a death wish, and I’d be more than happy to grant that for him.

Pulling up all the different camera angles, I look for my mate, but she’s either not there yet or she's not in the vicinity of a camera, at least.

Backing up the footage, I finally find what I’m searching for. I zoom in for a better view. A tall, what I’m assuming is a man, steps into her room. He’s dressed in black with a ski mask. I shake my head. How cliché. It seems like he doesn’t know where to start because he paces between her bed and closet several times.

Appearing to decide on the bed, he leans down and pulls a knife from the boots he’s wearing and flips the blade out. It glints in the moonlight, streaming through her window. He wheels back with an arm and just starts shredding her sheets, no remorse. No second thoughts. Then he follows it by stabbing into the pillows, one by one, carefully macerating them so they won’t have a purpose any longer.

When he’s finished, he heads back over to her dresser and starts pulling her clothes out, piece by piece, and slicing them down the front. I watch him work. It’s like he’s done this before. He sticks mainly to the shadows as he moves. The more I observe, the more I wonder who he is. He’s definitely not Brad Clark. This guy is definitely an alpha; his frame is too big to be a beta.

He finds her laundry basket in the corner of her room and pulls out a pair of panties, dark colored from the looks of it. I watch as this bastard lifts them to his nose, and his eyes close in ecstasy as he inhales deeply like a demented fucker. Like something I would do. Well, I’ve done it. But he doesn’t deserve to smell her sweet perfume. Only I do. She is mine.

A growl slips out, and my hands clench. What the fuck?

“Dude, what’s up?” I hear Gunnar’s voice from behind me. I didn’t even realize he’d been standing there.

He looks over my shoulder, nodding to my phone. “Shit, you got a second home I don’t know about?”

A frustrated sigh puffs out. “No, it’s my mate’s.”

His eyes widen comically. “You have a mate? Why the fuck you been hiding it?”

I quirk a brow at the same time my lips curve into a devilish grin. “Haven’t. Just happened tonight.”

He smirks. “Nice. Glad I could help ya out with the theme night, brother. So, who’s your friend?” He tips his head towards my phone. I’m glad he doesn’t ask more questions… like why I have a camera in my mates house or why I’m spying on her.

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