Page 45 of Break Me Knot

I don't tell him about Haven's strict rules against entertainment, about how TV and movies were considered “distractions from proper omega behavior.” Don’t mention that after I was taken to the basement, the last thing I thought of was what was happening in Hollywood. That most days I was so exhausted from the endless work and starvation I fell asleep wherever I happened to sit at the end of the day. And then, after I escaped, surviving and working two jobs kept me more than occupied.

“Well then. This is your day,” he says softly, his voice carefully light despite the emotion I can smell on him. “I think a rom com is on the cards for this afternoon’s entertainment.”

Chapter Twenty

Zane

The omega beside me is so small, so fragile, it makes me keen with the need to protect. She settles into the corner of the couch, making herself as compact as possible, like she's trying to take up the least amount of space. The soft, new blanket Cole left across the sofa for her drowns her thin frame. She burrows into it, using it as some sort of armor. I’m glad I wrapped it around her because she wouldn’t have reached for it herself, no matter how much her nature would have hounded her.

Omegas love soft things. Comfort items. And she had none of those in that disgrace of an apartment in which we found her. She probably couldn't afford them,but I suspect she intentionally avoided getting anything for herself because she's worked so hard to suppress her nature.

I bring up a selection of rom coms I think she might like. “Let’s see. These are the latest and greatest on the market today. How about a movie with Jacob Knight in it?”

From what I recall, the actor is the latest heartthrob no female alpha, beta, or omega can resist. Her scent shifts, spun sweetness to an edge of burned sugar. Her fingers stroke the soft edge of the blanket as her eyes glide over the images. A nervous tell, one of many I've started cataloging. Her hands are too thin, the bones too prominent. The lack of recognition in her expression pings something in my brain. “Uh. I don’t really know him, but I’m happy if you think it’s the right choice.”

Her expression is blank yet guarded as I study her. The actor is the biggest heartthrob on the planet right now. There aren’t many people who wouldn’t know of him and…she’s not lying.

I bring up a selection that goes back a few years, testing her with older actors who have moved on to other things or roles more suited to their age. I try to hide my frown when she shows no recognition. “Do you like any of these?”

Her eyes light up when a slide catches her attention. “I like that one. Mom, Dad and I watched it the last time I saw it.”

I hadn’t realized the selection had moved into the previous decade. Her green eyes dart to my face, checking my reaction, always vigilant. Always waiting for the threat. The dark circles under her eyes speak of chronic exhaustion, and there's a slight tremor in her hands that suggests she's running on pure adrenaline. It’s going to take her more than a few days of good meals to heal. I make a mental note to ask Dr. Maverick to run more tests when she’s better healed, to see if there’s any permanent damage to her system. Past the more recent malnutrition to the reason why her body is covered in scars.

I want to pull her into my arms, to shelter her from whatever horrors she's survived, but she's not ready for that. Instead, I maintain my casual demeanorbecause that helps the most for now, though my hand tightens on the remote until the plastic creaks.

I force a smile to my lips and start the movie. “I love that one too! I haven’t seen it in ages.”

I haven’t seen it at all, but I’m rewarded when her shoulders finally drop from up around her ears. I move slowly and settle my arm around her. She tenses, but I keep my touch light, not pulling away. She's a bird ready to take flight, every muscle coiled with uncertainty, but she has to learn that touch from us is only good. Only pleasurable. Her scent carries notes of anxiety mixed with something like longing… as if she wants the comfort but doesn't trust herself to accept it.

“Alphas need contact too. Would you mind indulging me?” It's a careful lie. Well, not entirely a lie. I do need the contact, but more importantly, I need her to accept my comfort and understand it’s given without obligation.

“I haven't watched a movie in such a long time. It’s decadent,” she murmurs, her attention already caught by the opening scenes. I don't think she realizes what she's revealed in that simple statement, how it speaks volumes about her life these past years.

“Why is it decadent, Baby Girl?”

Her glance at me is wary. She shrugs a pointy shoulder as though to throw the thought away. “Just not a lot of time to watch a movie between jobs, that’s all.”

I don’t press for more, even when I want to beg to know everything about her. As the movie plays, I can't take my eyes off her. Her face is transformed by wonder at simple animations, at moments of joy and friendship playing out on screen. Each genuine reaction is a gift, a glimpse of who she might have been before whatever happened to make her so wary, so hurt.

Gradually, her body begins to relax against mine. The exhaustion she's been fighting starts to win. Her head grows heavier against my shoulder, her breathing evening out. The dark circles under her eyes look even more pronounced up close, and I can see other signs of chronic stress—the slight gray tinge to her skin, the way her pulse still races even as she drifts off.

She finally sinks fully into slumber, even though the movie is barely a third of the way through, her small body curling against mine. It’s a victory and a heartbreak at the same time.

I adjust the blanket around her, making sure she's warm and comfortable and try not to jostle her awake. Her scent in sleep is sweeter, less bitter with fear and anxiety. Lingering traces of her heat are there, as though it’s not quite over, as though its claws are still locked there.

That doesn’t make sense.

Her heat was brutal enough to have finished, and yet complex musky notes still float off her skin, hovering.

I pick up my phone and pull up our pack chat.

ZANE: She's asleep on me. Guys, she hasn't seen a movie in almost a decade. Had no idea who Jacob Knight is.

I snap a photo of her curled against me in sleep, looking small and vulnerable under the cream blanket. Longing washes through me from both Adrian and Cole. Good. If it makes Cole pull his head out of his ass when it comes to Mira, then I have no guilt for making him jealous.

He’s beaten himself up and denied himself long enough. It’s time to heal and this little omega, our scent-match no less, will help him with that. She doesn’t realize how precious she really is. How much power she wields over us.

I look down at her sleeping form, so small against me. I hate to think of her life before we found her. A life that left no room for normal experiences.

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