Page 24 of Break Me Knot

The bed is obscenely soft when he sets me down. The duvet puffs up around my bare legs, and I have to resist the urge to nest into the softness. I stiffen as he reaches for something next to me. I’m on a bed and going into heat. This is where he’ll demand payment for the food and the bath and the soft touches, but he only reaches for a stack of folded clothes at the foot of the bed.

He shakes out a soft gray T-shirt that smells like Zane and a flutter of something starts up inside me. I clench my hands and keep them locked at my side so I don’t reach for it.

A flush colors his cheeks as he holds it out. “We don't have any women's clothes here. Would you mind wearing ours? Just until we can get you something more appropriate?”

The implication surprises me. They don't keep clothes here for other women? No omega entertainment? No beta companions? Something in my chest loosens slightly at this revelation, though I refuse to examine why.

“Thank you, it’s better than my uniform,” I manage, eyeing the dirty heap of fabric on the bathroom floor. The thought of putting those sweat-and-fear-soaked clothes back on makes my skin crawl.

He helps me dress with careful, clinical movements. The T-shirt that smells like Zane drowns me, falling to mid-thigh, but it's soft and clean and is reassuringly safe. The sleep pants must be Cole's from how much they have to be rolled up, and something about wearing his clothes makes me feel oddly protected, despite his obvious dislike of me. Adrian's hands never stray, never linger, never suggest anything beyond helping. Even when the towel slips, he keeps his eyes averted, maintaining my dignity in a way no alpha ever has.

“Did you try to drown yourself in the bath?” Adrian asks quietly, perching on the edge of the bed. There's no accusation in his voice, no judgment, just careful concern. I pull Zane's shirt closer around me, inhaling the comforting scent without meaning to.

“The water was warm, and I was so tired. I must have fallen asleep.” It's not a lie, exactly. The drowning was in the dream, in the memory. In that dark river where I almost gave up everything. That moment when it would have been so easy to give in. Not in the here and now.

He studies me for a long moment, his hazel eyes intent. The weight of his gaze makes me want to hide, but I force myself to remain still. “We scented terror in the room when we came in. Pure panic. And you were thrashing under the water.” His hand twitches like he wants to reach for me, but he stops himself. “I'm worried about you.”

The concern in his voice confuses me.

“Honestly, it was just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about.” I won't tell him about that night. Won't speak Emma and Leah's names aloud. I’ll do everything in my power to keep them safe. I hope they're out there somewhere, living free lives. I hope they found better hiding places than cleaning jobs and black-market suppressants. I hope they managed to build real lives, not just survival. I hope they're happy, wherever they are. Even though I scour the Daily Herald for our ad, I don’t blame them if they never want to revisit the past.

“It was just a nightmare,” I repeat, more to myself than him, but the memory of dogs baying in the forest makes me shiver despite the warmth unfurling inside me. Phantom icy water closes over my head, Emma's sobs ring in my ear, and Leah's fingers bruise my arm as she pushes us away.

Adrian frowns at me, clearly wanting to ask more questions, but I bite my lip and look away. The action makes him understand I won't say more, though his scent carries notes of frustration and concern.

A knock at the door saves me from further interrogation. Zane enters with a man who must be in his fifties, with silver-streaked dark hair, kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, and a gentle presence that immediately puts me at ease. He's wearing casual clothes rather than a white coat, and something about that helps calm my racing heart.

“This is Dr. Maverick,” Zane introduces, hovering near the door.

“That was quick,” I say.

Zane offers me a shy smile. “Dr. Maverick works for us. He was only a few floors down.”

“Oh.” How could I have forgotten I was in the enemy’s building?

The doctor's earl gray tea beta scent carries no threat, no underlying agenda. If he's surprised to find an unmated omega in heat in the Pinnacle alphas' penthouse, he doesn't show it. I make no guesses about what other situations he might have seen here.

“Please, call me David,” he says, setting down his medical bag with careful movements. “I hear you've had quite a day.”

“You could say that.”

“Do you mind if I examine you?”

I glance at Adrian and Zane, still hovering anxiously. “I'd like to be alone for this. Please.”

They exchange looks, clearly reluctant, but eventually nod. “We'll be right outside,” Adrian assures me, as if that's supposed to be comforting.

Once they're gone, Dr. Maverick—I can't quite bring myself to use just his first name—begins his examination with careful efficiency. He talks about his three cats while he takes my temperature, tells me about their latest antics as he checks my blood pressure. His touch is clinical but gentle, nothing like the invasive examinations at Haven.

“I'd like to draw some blood,” he says eventually, “to check your nutrient levels. You're showing signs of several deficiencies.” He doesn't mention how obvious that must be from my protruding bones and pallid skin.

I consider refusing, but what's the point? This is the first real medical care I've had in two years that wasn’t specifically about my omega biology. “Okay,” I agree, holding out my arm and hitching my breath as he fetches the necessary items from his bag and lays everything out.

“So, there's Mr. Whiskers, face-to-face with this cucumber,” Dr. Maverick says as he draws blood, his hands gentle on my arm. “And you've never seen a cat so convinced they're about to be murdered by a vegetable. Back arched, fur standing on end, making these little 'mrrp' sounds of absolute betrayal.”

A laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, surprising us both. I can't remember the last time I laughed. The sound is foreign in my throat, almost wrong after so long making myself small and unnoticeable.

Exhaustion hits me, making my head spin. The world tilts slightly, and Dr. Maverick's hands steady me as he notices my fatigue. His experienced eyes miss nothing behind those wire-rimmed glasses. “Your heat is very close. Is this your first?”

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