Page 20 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

None of this makes sense.

I fall on my ass, chest heaving as I stare at the soft thing on my cot. Her scent wraps around me again, honey-sweet and perfect, making me puff up with the need to protect, to claim, to… No. I already have an omega.Wealready have an omega. One who’s hurting, who needs us to fix what’s broken between us all.

I can’t… We can’t…

But as I watch her chest rise and fall in sleep, as that devastating scent fills my lungs, I know it’s already too late. There’s no taking this back, no fighting the way my very DNA recognizes her as mine.Ours.

What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

I stay there staring at her for what feels like hours. All the while she rests.

All I can think about is what the hell am I going to tell the others? How the hell will I even explain this?

For long, strained minutes, I sit there frozen. Frozen until theomega whimpers in her sleep and I almost bust my knee in the way I hurry back to her side.

Fuck.

I stare down at her as she settles back into rest that she obviously so badly needs.

I need to check her ribs to ensure none are broken, but touching her there feels too intimate. Too much. Especially when she’s unconscious and can’t consent. Especially now that I know what she is. Justwhoshe is to me. To us. But if something’s broken…

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, gentling my touch as much as possible as I probe the bruised area. Nothing seems broken, thank god, just badly bruised. She whimpers in her sleep, instinctively trying to curl away from the pain, and that honey-sweet scent spikes with distress.

Something primitive and fierce tears through my chest at that fear-scent, a need so powerful it nearly brings me to my knees. Every instinct demands I pull her close, shelter her with my body, growl promises of safety until that sour note of terror disappears from her sweet scent. The intensity of the urge staggers me.

My teeth bare in a snarl as I brace against the bed, fighting urges I never knew would hit me so hard this day. I try to rein it in. If she wakes to see me like this, that terror she displayed before will only worsen.

The omega shifts again, making a small sound of pain, and I realize I’m leaning too close, my own scent probably overwhelming her even in sleep. Forcing myself back, I focus on finishing the first aid. Her feet need attention next. The thought of her running blind, bound, terrified enough to tear her feet to shreds…

Red edges my vision again. I need to calm down. Need to think clearly.

She needs food. Clean clothes. More medical supplies than what I keep in this basic kit. Which means going back to the house.The thought of leaving her alone, even briefly, makes me snarl at myself in protest. But I don’t have a choice.

One final check of her bandages, and I stand. She looks small on the cot, despite her curvy frame. Vulnerable. The urge to scent-mark her, to leave some kind of protection while I’m gone, is nearly overwhelming.

But I would be fucking mad to do something as drastic as that. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Instead of doing something so obviously insane, I carefully drape my jacket over her again. Her body instantly relaxes into it, seeking comfort in my scent even while her conscious mind fears me. The sight does something to my chest that I don’t want to examine too closely.

I need to go. Need to hurry back. Need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do with an injured, terrified omega who’s running from something bad enough to leave these kinds of marks. An omega who, it turns out, has run onto our property when the universe has marked her as ours. The odds are just too much to consider in detail.

First, I need to get through what might be the hardest part—facing my pack mates without giving away that everything in our world has just shifted on its axis.

Chapter 8

Stone

The walk to the house has never felt longer. Every step takes me further from her, and my instincts fight me the entire way. The pathetic minutes I spent rolling in the dirt—trying to scrub her intoxicating scent from my skin—feel like evidence of my unraveling control. At least the sun’s barely risen, painting the forest in weak morning light. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Maybe everyone will still be asleep?—

“Stone?”

Fuck.

Jax stands on the back porch, coffee mug in hand. Even from here, I can see the dark circles under his eyes. Another sleepless night. We’ve all been having those lately.

“Early morning run?” he asks as I approach, but there’s something careful in his tone. Like he knows something’s off.

Keep it casual. Normal. “Needed to clear my head.”

---