Page 29 of Knot All is Forgiven

He speaks slowly and quietly as if he can see through my excuses. "Well, you need to eat more. Grab a fork, and come finish this."

"No, no, I'm fine. I'll just grab an apple." I reach for one in the fruit basket, and he stops my hand.

"You'll eat your brunch or let me cook for you. You need the calories. You burn more as an Omega." He's got a strange look on his face as if he's dissecting me. I feel stripped bare in front of him.

It's too soon to tell him about how strange I am when it comes to food. How I can speak in front of hundreds of people and not blink an eye, but ordering dinner or eating in front of others makes me want to panic. I can sometimes push past it, but I won't be able to today.

I'm too shaken up by the interaction with Henrik and Lanie's comments.

Today is a day for damage control, a message to my therapist to schedule an off-cycle session, and safe foods.

"No, really, I'm okay. An apple sounds like exactly what I need." He removes his hand from mine and I snag one of the sweet Honeycrisp apples from the basket. "I promise I'll eat a big dinner, okay?" Desperate to take the attention off food, I give him a dazzling smile. "Did you get all your errands done?"

Vick blinks slowly, still looking like he wants to address the takeout container in the room. He takes the hint, though, and follows me to the couch.

"I did, thank you. I got you something while I was out."

My eyes widen. "You got me a gift?" I feel selfish and materialistic, but I have zero desire to turn the gift down. Seriously, no part of me even considers telling him he shouldn't have or tries to play coy.

He chuckles, places his mug on a coaster that I'm pretty sure I didn't have on Friday, and heads to the pile of bags near the door that I'm just now noticing. "Did you buy out the department store?" I ask with a laugh.

Icarus shrugs nonchalantly but doesn't answer, setting two large bags in front of me. One is matte black, with ribbons for handles. I recognize the name on the bag in the gold script as a local boutique that caters to Omegas.

I have to hold myself back from moving too quickly so I don't rip the bag. Inside, I pull out a blanket so soft it's like lotion as it slips over my hands. It's blush pink with an iridescent sheen. I've never felt something so soft, and immediately, I pull it to my face and rub it against my cheek.

"Oh shit, Vick, this is so soft. You didn't have to do this!" I wonder if he can hear that I really don't mind that he did it in my tone.

"I wanted to." His voice is tinted with amusement. "It's a courting gift."

A courting gift is a massively old-fashioned concept that should come back in style. When an Alpha finds someone he is interested in bonding with, he gets her gifts to show her how well he can care for her. I'm not surprised Icarus is someone who participates. I imagine his father courted his mother, even though she's a Beta.

"Keep going," he says, tilting his head back at the bag. Inside, hidden under the blanket, is an oversized, fuzzy navy blue sweater and matching socks. I squeal, kicking off my sandals and pulling the socks onto my feet.

"You like them?" he asks shyly.

"Like? Love! These have got to be the best thing I've ever felt." I pull the sweater over my head and snuggle into it. Omegas are sensory seeking in general, preferring soft, fuzzy, or silky fabrics. These gifts are what Omega dreams are made of. "Seriously. These are the nicest gifts anyone has ever gotten me."

His face falls momentarily at my words, but he shakes it off so quickly I barely notice. "I have one more," he reminds me, hitting the brown bag with his toe. "But it's kind of a selfish gift if I'm being honest."

Oh fuck, it's probably lingerie or sex toys or something. Not that I'd mind, but that is kind of presumptuous. But he is my Alpha, so it's widely accepted that we're going to be fucking pretty soon.

At least the man knows how to grab what he wants.

Gingerly, I pick up the bag, finding it surprisingly heavy.

What the hell kind of dildo did he get?

But I pull out a beautiful cherry wood box that looks remarkably familiar, and clarity hits.

Opening it, I see my gut was correct. "Tea?"

He flushes. "Well, yes. But it's a crafting kit. It's teas, herbs, flavorings, fruits, enhancements… basically, I thought we could make our own blend. An homage to our little pack." The redness creeps down his neck, making the skin splotchy beneath the collar of his gray polo. He bounces his knee repeatedly, and I can feel the anxiety roll off of him.

All of it, from the sentiment to how he awaits my response, warms me to the cockles of my jagged heart. I place my hand on his jiggling kneecap.

"I love that idea, Icarus."

"Yeah?"

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