Page 46 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“What about Stone?” he presses. “What has he…what does he do when he comes here?”

I shrink into myself, remembering the alpha’s visits. Despite my constant terror, there was always something about him that didn’t quite fit with what I’d been taught to expect from alphas. He never grabbed, never forced, never demanded submission. Just quiet care and careful distance. He’d simply tend to my wounds, leave food, and respect my space. Even now, he still averts his eyes whenever I eat. It’s such a small thing, but it speaks volumes. After everything I’ve experienced, after every alpha who treated me like property, the alpha’s gentle consideration feels almost surreal. Looking at this beautiful omega who seems to know him, who stands here radiating hurt rather than fear, maybe I wasn’t wrong to feel that flicker of trust. Maybe the alpha really is as different as he seems.

But then it hits me. The omega refers to the alpha by name. Not “Master”.

The realization rocks through me like an electric current. I straighten, my eyes widening as I replay the name on his tongue. Stone. So casual. So familiar. Not “Master” or “Sir” or any of the other titles I’ve been trained to use. Just…Stone.

My mouth goes dry. In all my time here, I’ve never dared to speak his name aloud. Never even thought about it without the appropriate honorific preceding it in my mind. The punishment for such disrespect would have been…would have been…

But there wasn’t any punishment, was there? Not from him. Not once.

I stare at the omega before me with new eyes. The way he sits—hurt and angry, yes, but with a strength I can’t comprehend. Like he has every right to be here. Like he belongs in his space, wearing his clothes. Like he’s…free.

The word catches in my thoughts. Free. Is that what this is? Is that what he’s been trying to show me all along?

“You aren’t going to answer me?” The omega’s gaze shifts to me for only a second before he looks away again, as if it’s too painful to stare at me too long. “Is it really that bad?” His voice cracks on the last word and my distress spikes.

“N-no. He brings food. And…” I gesture vaguely at the clothes I’m wearing. “These. He doesn’t…he hasn’t…” I can’t finish, but the omega seems to understand.

“He hasn’t touched you?”

I shake my head quickly. “No. He just…waits. And brings things. But he never stays long.”

The omega—I still don’t know his name—runs a hand through his honey-gold hair, messing up the strands. “This doesn’t make sense,” he mutters. “None of this makes sense.”

“Please,” I say again, hating how small my voice sounds. “I stayed because I was scared, but I can’t…I can’t stay in that cabin forever. I need help.”

He looks at me for a long moment, and I can see him wrestling with something internally. His scent shifts between distress and determination, making my anxiety flutter.

“The bandages,” he says. “Your wrists. Can I…?”

I hesitate, then slowly extend my arms. He moves closer, though still maintaining some distance, and examines the wrapping. His fingers hover over the gauze but don’t touch.

“Stone did these?”

“Yes. I was…they were already wrapped when I woke up.”

He sits back, running both hands over his face. “Fuck,” he mutters. Then again, louder, “FUCK!”

I flinch at the outburst, and immediately his scent shifts to something soothing, apologetic.

“Sorry,” he says softly. “I just…this isn’t…” He takes a deep breath. “You really do seem lost.” He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing. “You need proper food. A real bed. Not whatever the fuck this is supposed to be.”

Hope flutters in my chest, but I try to suppress it. “You’ll help me?”

“I…” He stands suddenly, pacing a few steps before turning back to me. “Look, I don’t understand what’s happening here. Stone is one of my alphas. He wouldn’t…” He stops, seems to gather himself. “But you can’t stay here. Whatever this is, we need to figure it out. And you need somewhere safe to stay while we do.”

“Safe?” The word comes out as barely more than a breath.

He nods, though something haunted crosses his expression. “I have a house. Well, we…it’s complicated. But there’s food there. Real food.” And then he pauses. “I can cook.” There’s a slight hopeful smile before it disappears and he rushes on as if the mention of him cooking will somehow dissuade me. “And a proper bed. Bathroom. Everything you need.”

I should be scared. Should be wary of going anywhere with anyone. All I can rely on is his scent. His sage and rain. Calming. Trustworthy. Constant.

“We?” I ask carefully.

Pain flashes across his face. “Like I said, it’s complicated. But you’ll be safe there. I promise.”

He holds out his hand, and I stare at it for a long moment. This could be a mistake. Could be trading one prison for another. But something in those storm-gray eyes, in that soothing sage scent, tells me to trust him.

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