Page 25 of Shaken Knot Stirred

“If you leave…”

Our heights were similar, my lips inches from hers.

“If you leave, Beg will…” My words got stuck on my tongue.

Being so close to her made me feel like I was the one who’d taken a blow to the head. Everything about her was softness and warmth, like the promise of a hug I would never get. I felt her fingers rest lightly on my hip and pour all her warmth into me to settle in my core.

My eyes felt too drugged to stay open in a battle not worth fighting. I brushed my lips against hers, soft and tasting sweet. Something sizzled between us. I jolted back, snapping back to reality.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” I shook my hair out of the knot and subconsciously brushed it forward to hide behind.

“No, it’s fine. It was me. It’s an omega thing.” Her voice was bright, but she was lying. I couldn’t tell about what, however.

“Beg has every inch of this place alarmed and under camera. You can’t just walk out without him knowing.” I made myselfbusy at the worktable, shuffling packaging supplies into neat stacks.

“And he made you my babysitter.”

“Whatever you did, you’re screwed now. Running isn’t going to get you out of it.” I wasn’t trying to be mean, but false hope was dangerous. Any kind of hope was dangerous.

Moxie took a private tour of the room. I had pulled in throw rugs to liven up the industrial carpet and draped the backs of sofas with throws to give the room some character. Beg tore down any art I hung. I picked at my cuticles, suddenly nervous she’d think this was all ugly and my fault.

“Is there a shower I could borrow?” Moxie plucked at her shirt. There was a tear on the knee of her jeans and mud splotches here and there.

I led her down the hall. There were a half dozen offices that we’d converted into bedrooms. My room was first. Nico’s was halfway down on the other side. Beg had a room at the very end of the hall, but he never used it, probably convinced Nico would try to kill him in his sleep. The others were empty.

The bathroom wasn’t fancy, just a converted locker room, but it had endless hot water. We weren’t really set up for guests. I had to dig in one of the dented lockers for a clean towel.

“Feel free to use any of my products,” I said, refolding the towel and placing it on the edge of the double sink.

She picked up a bottle of lotion and sniffed at it.

“Your scent is nicer.”

Flames burned my cheeks. No one ever mentioned a beta’s scent.

“I’ll see if I can find you something to wear,” I muttered as I practically fled.

The sound of the shower pinging through the old pipes chased me down the hall to my room. I flipped on the overhead light, which I never did, preferring the collection of floor lamps. Thecloset door opened with a squeak. It must have been a supply closet back when this was a working factory. Since the walls were concrete, I had absconded with the retail-grade rolling clothing racks Beg had stocked the go-go dancer dressing rooms with. I trailed my fingers through the rainbow of dresses, pulling one out. It was a navy ombre going from dark to light at the bottom, sleeveless with a square neckline. Moxie would look fantastic in that.

Frowning, I shoved it back into place. She was an omega; they preferred comfort. I snapped open a pair of leggings from an athleisure set I had never worn. They still had the tags on them. I grabbed an oversized cashmere sweater. I drowned in it, but it should be perfectly oversized on Moxie.

I yelped when I stepped back into the bedroom, finding Moxie framed in the doorway. Water dripped from her hair. She clasped the towel tightly to her chest. It wasn’t big enough to wrap around her and showed off a big slice of her upper thigh. Tearing my eyes away, I knelt at the edge of the bed and pulled out a plastic bin from underneath. I dug through to find the sports bra.

I held it up and frowned, looking into the bin of never-worn lingerie, most still with tags.

“I, uh, thought you might like something comfortable.” I nervously held out the stack of clothes to her. “I mean, you could pick out something from here. But I get it if wearing another girl’s panties gives you the ick.”

She knelt next to me, the towel splitting open all the way to her hip. I leaned into her as she picked through the bin one-handed.

“Wow, quite the collection,” she picked up a bra and read the label. “They’re all different sizes?”

“Yeah, well, men don’t really understand tits and bras. They buy you what they want, not what actually works. Most are from Beg.”

Moxie paused briefly before holding up a t-shirt bra and checking the label.

“We’re not… He’s not… We don’t sleep together. It’s just that he…” I didn’t know why I was trying to explain myself to this omega.

“He’s manipulating you.” Moxie said simply. “And you’re pack. What goes on in a pack is none of my business.”

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