Page 27 of Knot Your Rebel

Thinking about my foster homes brings up thoughts of Drake. “What are you doing now?” I whisper into the space around me. It’s not like anyone will hear it or respond. I still miss him. Whether I want to admit it or not, he was my first love and always will be. Even before he became an alpha, I wanted him. And not in the physical way.

He made me feel safe when I needed it. At times, where it felt like I was drifting or lost, he would wrap me up in those strong arms of his. Sometimes, he’d sneak into my bed and just hold me. Those were the nights I slept the best, wrapped in his warmth.

Maybe a small part of my soul knew that he would become an alpha someday. I sigh, withdrawn.

I could use him tonight to ground me; to be my fucking anchor in the maelstrom we call life. To remind me that there are still good people in the world, but he’s not here, and I have a feeling he wouldn’t want to see me after he ghosted me all that time ago.

Reaching into my pocket I curse, catching the fact that I have yet to plug in my phone. Even if Nova was trying to get a hold of me, she couldn’t. I jog back to my room, grabbing a charger from the side table, and making my way back into the living room. Before I sit down, I contemplate a drink just to calm my nerves.

Some of me feels like it’s a bad idea in case the person who broke in comes back to finish what he started… but I just don’t care. I need to not think for a while. Bending down, I drop the charger into the outlet on the wall, wait until my phone lets me know it’s charging, and make my way to the kitchen.

The mini bar draws my attention like a catalyst, and I’m shifting to walk that way. Instead of grabbing a glass and pouring myself one, I pick up the entire small bottle and head back to my normal place on Nova’s leather couch. The coldness of the leather seeps into my ripped leggings, and a shiver zips up my spine. I grab the remote from the coffee table and press the on button, pointing it at the flat screen on the wall before me.

The screen lights up, giving me the make in big, bold letters before it dips into the main menu of streaming services that we have.

Taking my time, I slowly flip through the channels until something catches my eye. It’s him, Tate. He’s doing an interview, dressed in hockey gear, sitting on a bench in what appears to be an arena. The lady is asking him about different things that apparently happened in the game. When I hit the more info button, I’m told this is a replay. Okay, so it was earlier this week.

The woman interviewing him is skinny and blonde with bright blue eyes and cherry red lips. I hate her instantly. Jealousy floods my body, and I can’t stand it. I shouldn’t care. He’s not mine, but then the bite on my neck tingles, reminding me it's still there with a throb. He is mine. I’m just not sure I want him.

The more I watch, the more I drink.

I even go so far as to decide on words that I’ll raise my bottle to. Glasses are for cowards.

eleven - rebel

. . .

The sudden buzz of my phone has me jumping as if it’s the bad guy. Pulling it out, I see Nova’s name and answer.

“Hey, girl. Where are you? I’ve been looking everywhere.” Shit, that means she probably questioned Tate about… which means that he also knows I’m missing.

“Nova… dude… cannnn you go into another room? I gots ta tell you something, but don’t want the guys to know what I’m about to say, ‘kay?” I murmur into the phone.

The silence on the line is loud between us, her breath picks up slightly before she answers. “Yeah, hold on.” I hear her say something to whoever she's with, I’m assuming Gunnar. There’s silence for a minute, the voices behind her disappearing. “Okay, what’s going on, Rebel? You’ve got me worried. Wait, are you drunk? Your speech is a little slurred.”

“Nah… I’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”

She sighs. “Tell me what’s wrong?” She knows better than to ask me stuff when I’m not ready to open up yet.

I clear my throat. “Did you happen to leave the drawers on your desk open when we left today?”

“Um, no?” she says as a question.

“Don’t freak out, but…?”

“Rebel… you’re really weirding me out. Just tell me what the fuck happened. Where are you? Why did you leave? I thought we were leaving together.” She sounds hesitant with her words this time.

“Someone broke in. S’kay, though. I made sure they weren’t still here. Had to clean up my room a bit, but s’all good now.”

She gasps. “What the fuck? Why are you there? What if they come back?” The questions fly from her tongue like bullets from an automatic gun.

“I’m fine. Not scared if they come back. Got my baseball bat beside me in the living room, good drink in my hand. I’ll be all right.”

“Shit.” I hear her curse, but it's muffled. Her mouth is no longer right next to the speaker any longer. “Don’t move. I’m coming home now.” I hear her moving around, and then there’s a male voice. I can’t tell who it is, but I’m hoping it's just Gunnar coming to check on her.

“Let me talk to her,” the voice growls, and a shiver tears up my spine. I know that voice. In fact, I got very intimate with that voice earlier tonight.

“No. What the hell, Tate. She won’t want to talk to you.”

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