Page 5 of Knotting With A Stranger

The response comes fast.And hey... if you need help hiding any other bodies...

My heart stutters as I read the implied invitation. Before I can respond, another message appears.

Or you know, if you just want to talk about non-homicidal things sometime...

The mixer chooses that moment to make a sound like a dying elephant, and reality crashes back in. I have a cake to save, abakery to open, and a very real life to deal with. This was fun, but...

But what? The practical part of my brain says to end it here. The Omega part of me, the part that’s been dormant for so long, whispers something else entirely. My fingers hover over the phone keyboard, torn between sensible and spontaneous. The next message I send could change everything—or end it before it begins.

Through the kitchen doorway, the snow continues to fall, and somewhere in the distance, church bells chime the hour. Time to decide.

I snatch my phone and begin to type.

Shame. I only date people who can handle a little murder and mayhem with their morning coffee.

Setting my phone down, I turn back to my kitchen nemesis with renewed determination.

In moments, the phone dings again, and I glance over at the message.

True, non-homicidal is overrated. But I might be persuaded to lower my body count...

My laugh bounces off the kitchen walls, surprising me. Shaking my head, I return to the wedding cake, unable to wipe the smile from my face. Who knew disaster could lead to something so unexpectedly delightful?

2

JAMES

Aweek of these daily chats with my mystery girl, and still, my restless feet carry me back and forth across the room as I wait for her message. I glance at my closed door—old habits die hard—before staring down at my cell phone again. Pacing helps me think, always has, but lately these conversations are the only thing that gets me moving. The phone feels warm in my hands as I read her last message again. Something about her responses makes my Alpha instincts stir—her quick wit, the way she combines chaos with humor. It’s been a long time since anyone made me feel this... alive.

My room is small, sparse, but the morning light streaming through the window makes it feel less confining than usual. A few more weeks until I’m out of here.

I glance at her last message again, and the urge to protect, to pursue, rises strong and unexpectedly. I haven’t responded to anyone like this in years.

I should get back to work,I type quickly, then glance up to my shut door, at the gap beneath it for any shadows. All clear.But I enjoyed our chat, Lily.Something shifts in my chest when I type her name—it has ever since she shared it during our second conversation. Sometimes, at night, I catch myself saying it under my breath like a secret worth keeping.Lily. A simple name that’s become anything but simple to me.

Giving up so easily, James? And here I thought you were hardcore.

I grin despite myself.Trust me, sweetheart, I’m plenty hardcore. Just temporarily occupied.

Mysterious. Let me guess—international spy? Professional ninja? Underwater basket weaver?

The laugh escapes before I can stop it.

If I told you, I’d have to kill you. And you’ve already got one body to deal with.

Fair point. Though now I’m definitely intrigued.

Footfalls sound out in the hallway. I type faster.Keep being intriguing, then. Maybe you’ll find out someday.

Is that a promise or a threat?

Both, I think. Neither. Everything’s complicated right now.Let’s call it a possibility,I send instead.

I like possibilities.

Her reply makes something in my chest tighten.

So, mysterious stranger, we’ve been chatting for a week, and you haven’t asked for photos once. Either you’re not a creep, or you’re playing a very long game.

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