Page 86 of Knot Your Rebel

“Firebrand…” His voice sounds so sad and broken.

I shake my head, pushing away the part of my omega that wants to just forgive him because he’s my alpha. Maybe I'm being dramatic about all of this. Maybe he truly didn’t know and wasn’t sure how to tell me. Fuck, I don’t know what to think. All I know is that I can’t be here right now.

I want to pack up my shit and go to Nova’s, but she’s not home, she’s with Gunnar for the time being. And after what happened to her, she probably doesn’t want to see me, either. It’s basically my fault she got assaulted. So, instead of walking out the front door and having to figure out where to go, I march upstairs and find another empty bedroom.

I have nowhere to go, so I’m staying here, but I refuse to stay in the same room as him.

My heart feels like it was put into a grinder and it's being obliterated. Of course, Rebel, you should know better. Nothing ever pans out how it should.

A knock sounds on the door, and then I hear his voice. “Rebel. Talk to me.” My omega wants to comfort him for simply the sheer sound of sadness in his voice, but I remind her that he did this to himself. I don’t respond, and minutes later, the door knob rattles. Thank God I remembered to lock the damn door.

“You know I have the key to this lock, right?” This time, his voice is a growl. I remain silent, and eventually, footsteps lead him away from the door. I’m left to breathe again. In, out. In, out. Another tear falls.

I fall into a fitful sleep, hoping that when I wake up, all of this will just be a dream.

The mattress dips beside me, and I wake with a start. The dark disorients me. Moonlight streams in from the window, casting its gaze on the shadow seated on the side of my bed. My heart picks up. Who’s here?

His head turns, giving me a profile, and I realize it’s Tate.

A yawn is pulled from my lips. “Tate?”

“Hey, little firebrand.” His hair is ruffled like he’s been worrying his hands through it. He’s shirtless, and I can’t help but admire the way the light touches his chest. “We need to talk. I’ve given you time, but I won’t let you run from this, and I won’t let you hide. We’re going to discuss this. I can’t wait any longer.

My mind is foggy from sleep, and my eyes are puffy from the tears that stained my pillow. Running my hand across the side table, I search for the switch to the light and turn it on, shielding my eyes from the brightness of the light. He looks awful, with a morose expression on his face.

“I’m not sorry that I didn’t tell you when I figured it out. You’re mine, Rebel, and I won't lose you. I can’t lose you. I know how you feel about him, and I can’t fucking compete with the memories of him.” Shoving hair out of his face, his eyes meet mine. The normally vivid color is dimmed with stress and… worry.

“It was never meant to last, right?” I say it quietly, knowing exactly what I’m doing.

He reaches out and touches my cheek. I should recoil away, I’m mad at him after all, but I also like the comfort it brings me. “Fuck that. We’re meant for forever. You and me against the world. Don’t let the voices in your head win. Don’t let them make you question what we have here. Make you question us.”

“I always thought it would be Drake and I. At the end of the road, I thought we’d be the ones mated. He’d have gone off and gotten a few years in with the NHL, and then he’d come back for me. But life changes. Things happen. Things we don’t want to happen, happen.”

“If I was a better alpha, I’d understand. I’d let you see what could happen between the two of you, but I’m selfish. I want you all to myself, and I don’t share well. I am in fucking love with you, Rebel Davis. I know that’s not what you want to hear, and, fuck, it may have you wanting to run, but don’t. Give this a chance.”

I search his face for any type of lie, but he’s telling me the truth. I can feel it in the bond. He’s certain about us.

I hate that I have doubts.

“I can see the wheels turning in your head. Let me turn them off.” Leaning in, he kisses me, not giving the slightest opportunity to respond or even think about what he just said. His lips meet mine in a clash of desperation. Do his lips taste better when he’s trying to prove to me that he wants me?

The bond tingles between us, and my heart flutters. How does he give me butterflies even when I’m mad at him? A thought breaks into my brain like a criminal, making me wonder if maybe I was wrong, maybe Tate Geekies is my true mate. Maybe it’s not Drake. Maybe I clung to Drake because he was what I knew, and Tate is what I didn’t know I needed.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you look in my shirt?” It dawns on me that when I confronted the guys, I was doing so in only Tate’s shirt. Well, fucking lovely. But the way his fingers are trailing under said shirt is distracting me. Pushing my shirt up my chest, he latches onto one of my nipples, while a finger tweaks the other one.

I swear, the sensation zips right down to my pussy. The slick seeps from between my thighs onto the blankets below me. His eyes flare with desire, his pupils dilated.

thirty six - tate

. . .

Her thighs feel like silk under my hands as she lifts up and straddles my body, her hot little core lined up exactly with my cock. She moves those sinful hips back and forth over me. My boxers are the only thing standing between her wet pussy and my cock being coated in her juices. It’s trying to slip out through the hole with each twist of her hips.

Hands framing my face in reverence, she leans in and kisses me. Her lips cover my bottom one as she sucks it into her mouth and nibbles on it. A growl slips out of my mouth. It’s taking everything in me to stop from throwing her off me and pounding her into the damn bed. “Fuck.” My eyes roll back, simply enjoying the feel of her rubbing herself against me. My cock jumps below her, and she throws her head back in a laugh.

I swear to God, the sound makes me even harder. Reaching between us, I rub my thumb over the cute little bud peeking out. I take full advantage of her distraction and lean in to pebble kisses and nips along her neck. She squirms against me.

A soft whimper slips from her lips. Her grip tightens on my shoulders as she uses them for leverage with her attempt to kill me by grinding against my length. She’s soaked through my boxers at this point, and my tip is leaking for her.

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