Page 24 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

The horror of that thought makes me drop my gaze immediately.

The scent of food hits me next, making my stomach clench. Two days might have been optimistic. Between halving my alreadymeager Reform Academy portions and skipping meals entirely, I can’t remember the last time I actually ate properly. Not that starving myself had made any actual difference in the end.

“This looks good.” He sets something on the edge of the cot, far enough away that I don’t have to be close to him to reach it. “Best to start with the fruit. Small bites.”

My hands twitch in my lap, but I don’t move. Can’t move. Haven’t been given explicit permission.

He makes that sound again—that pained almost-growl. “You can eat. Please eat.”

Permission granted. I reach slowly for what he’s left—an apple, perfectly ripe. My fingers tremble as I bring it closer, waiting for him to snatch it away. To make me beg. To…

But he just moves back to the table, keeping his distance as he continues unpacking supplies. I take a tiny bite, then another when nothing happens. The sweetness explodes on my tongue, making my eyes water.

“These are the clothes.” He hesitates. “You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to. But it would help keep you warm.” He hesitates again. Through my peripheral vision, I see him run a hand through his hair. “And I need to check your bandages, but…” He trails off, scent flickering with something complex. “That can wait until you’re more comfortable.”

Comfortable. The word almost makes me laugh, but that would be disrespectful. Nothing about this situation makes sense. His kindness terrifies me more than cruelty would. At least cruelty I understand.

The apple is half gone before I realize I’m still clutching his jacket with my free hand, drawing comfort from that pine scent that speaks of safety and…something else. Something that makes me stir in ways that six years of training apparently didn’t touch. I turn it over in my mind, but I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t know what it is. I don’t unders?—

A sound outside makes me jump, the apple tumbling fromsuddenly numb fingers. The alpha moves faster than I can track, catching it before it hits the floor.

“Just a bird,” he soothes, but he doesn’t try to hand the apple back directly. Sets it on the cot instead. “You’re safe here. I swear it.”

I want to believe him. That’s the most terrifying part. Something in me wants to trust that pine scent, those gentle hands, that careful distance he keeps maintaining.

The longing to surrender to that trust aches in my bones. Six years of vigilance has left me exhausted, and his gentle presence calls to something deep in me—something that recognizes safety when it’s offered. But hope is dangerous. Hope is what got broken out of me, piece by piece, until I stopped reaching for it.

I know better. Don’t I?

The silence stretches, broken only by the distant bird calls through the window. I keep track of the alpha even with my head bent and my gaze not meeting his. When his pine scent shifts with something I can’t identify, it makes my skin prickle with awareness. The half-eaten apple sits between us like a question I don’t understand.

“So,” he starts, then stops. “You must have been freezing out there last night.”

I remain silent, hands folded in my lap.

More silence. His scent twists with what might be confusion.

“The woods aren’t safe at night,” he tries again. “Especially not in this weather. Temperature’s dropping every day.”

Still not a direct question. Not an order either. My fingers twist together, but I keep my eyes down.

He adjusts his hip where he’s standing, leaning against the table. “You don’t want to answer me…”

Dread surges through me. I can detect it in my own scent. And it seems he can smell it, too.

“…or maybe you…can’t?”

I can almost hear the gears turning in his head.

“I’m being honest when I say I won’t hurt you…”

Yes, so he’s said. But only time will tell if that is even true.

He utters a low sound, dragging his hand through his hair again. I’m making him frustrated. My anxiety spikes some more. But I can’t speak to him when he isn’t commanding me to. The stress of doing that, even when it seems safe to do so, but being eventually wrong, makes my vocal cords stiffen and dry up. It’s happened before at the Academy. One particular lesson with Widow taught me never to become so complacent again. Not after she forced my hands into ice water till they became numb and swollen for days. And all because I’d replied to heroncewhen she’d been talking to me in much the same way this alpha is doing right now.

“The cabin,” he finally says, voice careful. “Were you trying to reach it specifically?”

A direct question. I can answer this. “No, Alpha.”

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