Page 34 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

She retrieves the container with those same careful movements, like she’s expecting to be punished for every step. When she settles back in her corner, she holds the food like it might disappear.

“It’s not a test,” I say softly, reading the anxiety in her posture. “There’s no right or wrong way to eat.”

She opens the container slowly, and the scent of Finn’s cooking fills the cabin. Her stomach growls audibly, but she doesn’t move to eat.

“Would it help if I looked away?”

She startles slightly at the question, then nods.

I turn my head toward the window, giving her privacy while keeping her in my peripheral vision. The rain creates patterns against the glass, and I find myself counting the drops to keep from watching her too obviously.

The first tiny sounds of eating make something in my chest unclench. She starts slow, hesitant, but gradually the movements become more confident. Hungrier.

“Good?” I ask softly, still watching the rain.

“Yes, Alpha.” Her voice sounds stronger, less frightened. “Thank you.”

We sit in companionable silence as she eats, the rain providing a steady backdrop. I can smell how her anxiety slowly ebbs, replaced by something closer to contentment. It’s a good smell on her. Right.

When the sounds of eating stop, I risk a glance. She’s finished most of the pasta, though I can see her eyeing the remainder like she’s unsure if she’s allowed to continue.

“You can finish it,” I encourage gently. “Or save it for later. Whatever you prefer.”

She blinks, eyes darting to me for a split second, that same confused look in her eyes. “Later?”

“Yes. I’ll bring more food tomorrow. But you can save that if you want.”

“Tomorrow?” Her scent spikes with something complex—hope warring with fear. “You’re…coming back?”

“Yes.” I can’t tell her that staying away would be near impossible. If she hasn’t figured out what I am yet—whatweare—she eventually will. Now that I notice, I spot the jacket I’d left behind pressed close beside her. My scent. She’s no doubt attracted to it. Though, I’m going to hedge a guess that she has no idea why. If she did, she’d know I’d rather die than hurt her. “I won’t leave you out here alone.”

Her gaze searches the floor, but not before I catch the shimmer of tears. “Why, Alpha?”

Why?

It’s barely a whisper, but it carries such a heavy weight, I feel it in my bones. She’s so brave. I wish I could tell her, but I can’t yet. Not until I gain more of her trust and unravel the details of her arrival on our property. I can’t get too close, or I’m pretty sure I’ll push her away.

But she’s so brave. I can already tell. This omega—Hailey—has a core of steel beneath her fear.

I can see it now in how she holds the tears back, even as her body shakes. The sight of her pain makes me growl, and she flinches, pressing into the wall immediately.

Fuck.

“I’m sorry, Alpha.” She moves so quickly, I don’t realize what she’s doing, what I’ve done, until she’s on her knees before me, ass in the air, hands outstretched, forehead pressed into the wood. The same position she’s presented herself in before. “I’m sorry, Alpha.”

Oh fuck. This is my fault. She asked a question and instead of responding, I got stuck in my head and growled.

I fall to the floor with her, grasping her hands in mine. They’reso small, so soft. “No, please. Please don’t do that. I wasn’t angry at you. I was angry at…” At whoever hurt you. At myself for frightening you. At this whole messed up situation.

She remains frozen, but doesn’t try to pull away from my grip. I want to tug her into me, let her fall against my chest, but I know I must take my time with this. Her breathing comes in short, sharp bursts that make my chest ache.

“Can you sit up for me?” I keep my voice gentle, thumbs brushing over her knuckles. “Please?”

She shifts slowly, uncertainty in every movement, but she lets me help her into a sitting position. Her eyes remain downcast, but she doesn’t pull her hands away. Small victories.

“I growled because I was angry at the people who hurt you,” I explain softly. “Not at you. I’d never growl at you like that.”

Her shoulders tremble slightly, but she stays still in my loose hold. Not melting into the comfort, but not rejecting it either. Like she’s suspended between what she’s been taught and what she wants to believe.

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