Page 22 of Knot Only His

She bites her lip as she stares at me. “I need to go home.”

A first aid guy appears at my side with an ice pack. “Let me check your mouth, sir. You’re bleeding.”

I wave him off, but he insists. Dabbing my chin as blood trickles from my split lip.

“I’m so sorry.” She stands beside me, hands fluttering like nervous birds. “This is all my fault. I should never have come here. I’m sorry.”

“Wait.” I reach for her, but she steps back. “At least let me buy you a drink.”

“I can’t.” Her eyes lock with mine one last time, something vulnerable flickering in their depths. “I’m sorry. This place isn’t for me.”

She turns and rushes toward the exit.

I try to follow, but the first aid guy blocks my path, pressing the ice pack against my face.

By the time I push past him, she’s gone.

I slam the front door, wincing at the throb in my jaw. The scent of coconut and vanilla, and now I smell pineapple too as it clings to my clothes and there’s a mysterious undertone I can’t place.

“Holy shit, what happened to your face?” Oliver lounges on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table.

Asher appears from the kitchen. “Whoa. What happened to you?”

“I ran into a fist.”

Asher disappears in the kitchen, reappearing a minute later with a medical kit already in hand. “Sit.” He points to the chair.

I drop into it with a grunt. “I was at Club Midnight.”

“The hook-up club?” Oliver’s eyebrows shoot up. “Since when do you go there?”

“Since I needed to blow off steam.” I hiss as Asher dabs antiseptic on my split lip.

Oliver sniffs the air, his nostrils flaring. “You met an omega.”

“Not in the way you’re thinking.”

“Hold still,” Asher murmurs, examining my jaw.

“There was this omega dancing. Some alpha wouldn’t take no for an answer.” My hands clench, remembering. “Istepped in.”

“Why?” Oliver leans forward. His nostrils flare as he leans forward and smells me.

“Stop sniffing me.”

I sink deeper into the leather armchair, letting my head fall back against the cushion. Our living room is bathed in warm light from the Tiffany lamp Asher insisted on buying.

“It adds character,” he’d said. “And it’s the kind of thing omegas like.”

Strange, considering Asher’s personality.

He wasn’t wrong, though.

The soft colors reflect off the cream walls, creating a cozy atmosphere that helps ease the tension in my shoulders.

“Did Jagger get to sleep, okay?” The thought of my nephew makes my chest tighten. No matter what happens, he’s always my first concern. Not getting an omega. Though I know one would be good for him.

Oliver nods from his spot on our oversized sectional, the dark blue fabric. “Yeah, I helped him with his homework and he was down before nine.”

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