Page 53 of Knot the One They Want

I burst into my room and stop short, my jaw dropping. It's been completely transformed, the once sparse and utilitarian space I hardly ever spend time in now a haven of old world comfort and style. The bed is piled high with plush pillows and soft throws, and the walls are painted a soothing shade of blue that reminds me of the ocean.

But what really catches my eye is the black box sitting on the new dresser, adorned with a hot pink label that reads NaughtyKnots. I lift the lid, doing a double take at the sight of the sleek cock sleeve nestled inside with a bulge at the base just big enough to accommodate an alpha's knot. Haven't seen one ofthesesince college.

"What the fuck?" I mutter, picking up the note that's tucked beneath the toy.

Since you've chosen not to avail yourselves of the omega you've been provided. Alphas have to drain their knots somehow. Enjoy! - E

A strangled laugh escapes me and I scrub a hand down my face, disbelief and grudging admiration warring in my chest. This cheeky little omega, leaving sex toys and sassy notes for her alphas as retribution for humiliating her the other night. There's definitely more to her than the prim and proper image she projects to the world.

Lake appears in the doorway, his eyes widening as he takes in the box and its contents. "Is that what I think it is?"

I hand him the note, watching as his cheeks flush a delicate pink. "Apparently our omega has a wicked sense of humor," I say dryly.

He groans, running a hand through his hair. "I'm afraid to know what's waiting for me in the box she left onmybed."

"She got you too, huh?" I ask, already moving past him to check on Cole's space.

Sure enough, his room has been given the same treatment, all traces of his spartan tastes erased in favor of a warm, inviting retreat. And there, on the nightstand, is another black box.

"Fuck," I mutter, a thought occurring to me. "My music room!"

I take off at a sprint, my heart in my throat. If she's messed with my instruments, my sanctuary, I don't know what I'll do.

To be fair, it's nothing more than I deserve after what we did to her.

But as I skid to a stop in the doorway, I realize my fears were unfounded. The room has been repainted a soothing shade of green, and the furniture has been updated, but all my instruments are accounted for. The piano, the violin collection, the amps and recording equipment. It's all there, untouched.

"Admiring my handiwork?" a sweet voice asks from behind me.

I spin around to find Evie leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest and a smug little smile playingabout her lips. She looks like the cat that got the canary, and I hate how much it turns me on.

"You didn't touch my instruments," I say, the words coming out more accusing than I intend.

Her smile sharpens, her blue eyes glinting with challenge. "Of course not. I would never do something so petty."

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I wouldn't blame you if you did. Your reception here hasn't exactly been warm."

She pushes off the door frame and saunters into the room, her hips swaying in a way that makes my mouth go dry. "An alpha's home should be his sanctuary," she says, trailing her fingers over the gleaming surface of the piano. "And it's an omega's job to ensure that sanctuary is as peaceful and comfortable as possible."

She meets my gaze, her smile turning dangerous. "I intend to do my job, Asher. Whether you four like it or not."

With that parting shot, she turns on her heel and walks out, leaving me staring after her like an idiot. I can't help but admire the sway of her hips, the confident set of her shoulders. She's a force of nature, a tempest in a teacup.

And god help me, but I want her. I want her with an intensity that scares me, that makes me question everything I thought I knew about myself.

I sink onto the piano bench, my head in my hands. This is a fucking disaster. Damien is going to lose his shit when he's through licking his wounds, and I have no doubt he'll take it out on her in the most vicious way possible.

But even as I worry for her safety, for her sanity, I can't help the flicker of admiration that kindles in my chest. Evie is a fighter, a survivor. She's not content to play the passive victim, to let us break her spirit and bend her to our will.

No, she's giving as good as she gets. And if I'm being honest with myself, it's fucking hot.

I think back to the meeting with my agent, to the decision I have to make about the tour. A part of me knows I should go, that I need to get some distance from this clusterfuck before I do something I can't take back.

But the thought of leaving Evie alone with Damien, of not being here to protect her and keep him in check, makes my stomach twist with dread. Especially now.

She's gotten under my skin, burrowed deep into my heart in a way I never saw coming. And as much as I hate to admit it, I don't think I can walk away from her.

Not now. Not ever.

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