Page 131 of Tangled in Knots

“I was dehumanized, humiliated, and raped for your father’s enjoyment. I seriously thought about ending everything, begging for a weapon, but I’m tied to your damn ass forever.”

“You do care,” Damon deadpans. “You’re right, my pack and I have a lot to make up for, and we will. Now, I want to see how well you shoot. It’s always a great stress reliever.”

“As long as there’s no bets riding on this,” I sigh, opening the door to the shooting range. It’s much warmer here without being stifling.

“Maybe we should,” Damon croons. The teasing lilt to his voice is something I’m more used to hearing from Kane. Damn, I don’t think I can handle this from both of them.

Kane managed to charm me out of my panties with a knife and his smirk. I’m not planning for a repeat.

“Uh, no,” I say, shaking my head.

Taking off my mittens, I leave my coat on, so I can get used to shooting without complete mobility. It’s something Duncan recommended after teaching me the basics of shooting. I won’t always have full motion of my arms, so I should learn how to shoot with a handicap as well.

“I’m not going to bite unless you beg, Adira,” Damon says, making my eyes widen. No, I do not want that. Absolutely not. “Come over here and let’s see what you’re most comfortable holding.”

The change of subject keeps me off balance as I walk over, and he opens his case. He’s still wearing his leather gloves, his fingers long and elegant. The same hands that kill so easily, could have been used to create beauty in another life.

Damon has me hold several different sized firearms, until he decides on a Sig Sauer P365. This isn’t a gun that I’ve fired before, but I find that it’s easy to hold. Damon helps me with stance, and I find that it somehow helps with my balance when the gun recoils.

Noise canceling headphones seated tightly over my ears, safety glasses on my face, I shoot at the paper several feet in front of me, until he tells me to stop. Duncan and Callum are great teachers, but the small tweaks Damon offers make me even better.

Pulling the paper forward, Damon grunts in approval. “I want you to try shooting my Glock next,” he says. “I’m impressed. With more practice, you’ll be able to defend yourself just fine. I’m not even needed, and that’s a difficult pill to swallow.”

“I was standing with my legs wider before, and it was making my shot go a little wild,” I say softly. I hate the part of me that wants to soothe his ego, but I also believe in giving credit where it’s due.

“How were you standing before?” he asks, interested.

I show him how, and he nods. “I can see how that would happen. Let’s try the Glock, and then you can tell me which you prefer. The bet is that if you don’t completely hate my company, you’ll let me take you out on a date,” he says.

My lips part at his simple, confident request. “That doesn’t count as a bet,” I admonish.

“It does for me,” he says. “I want to be trusted enough to have time with you that’s unsupervised. Valentine’s Day is apparently a thing, even though I don’t understand how it’s a holiday.”

Amused, I shrug. “It’s a Hallmark holiday, so I don’t think it really counts. I’ve never been on a date, so I’m not an authority on this.”

“You get very serious and proper when you’re divulging personal secrets,” Damon observes. “I’ll have to remember this. I would love to be each other’s first date. I’m a recluse, and my track record isn’t the best when it comes to experience with omegas.”

“I sense a story there,” I say.

“Remind me to tell it another time, beautiful. I don’t want to ruin this moment with a fucked up story. My father has a way of traumatizing people through sex,” he says softly.

Jed’s words float back to me from last night, confirming his words. My heat isn’t something I remember well, because of how desperate I was. It was need, slick, and knots. I don’t remember any conversation that may have been had at all.

It’s yet another reminder that Rock needs to die. Painfully.

“What are you thinking about?” Damon asks, moving to bury his face in my neck. “Fuck, you smell so damn good.”

“People dying,” I whisper, gulping. “Is that completely terrible?”

“What’s right and wrong? My moral compass is broken, all I know is that if it makes you happy, I want to make it happen,” he says.

“Is it really that simple?” I ask him.

“It is for us,” he says. “Rules don’t apply to us, Adira. You probably don’t want to talk about Jed, but he’s working on things behind the scenes.”

“He mentioned it,” I say. “He’s running into some difficulties getting people to take him seriously here.”

“Proving that your stripes have changed is hard,” he says. “Doesn’t make it impossible. Jed’s working on it. Have you decided if you want to be involved when we finally make our move against Dad?”

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