Page 53 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

When I open the bathroom door, cool air hits my heated skin. Finn sits cross-legged in the center of his nest, frowning at his phone. The moment I appear, he looks up, and something flickers across his face like surprise. His gaze lingers, eyes wideningslightly as they trace over my features. For a moment he seems frozen, lips parted on an unspoken word, and his scent shifts, becoming warmer somehow. Then he blinks rapidly and clears his throat, quickly tucking his phone away and hopping out of the nest with a grace I envy.

“Feel better?” He moves to a chair where he’s hung what looks like an entire wardrobe’s worth of clothes. “You were in there a while.”

I hold the towel tight, as if that will help me determine if he’s angry or not. “I was?”

Finn breathes a laugh through his nose. “Nearly two hours.”

My eyes bug out. One hand rises to slam over my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

Finn laughs again, and it comes easily. “Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mind. I was taking the time to search the net for any mentions of this Academy you were talking about.”

My entire body goes rigid. The relaxation from the bath vanishes instantly, replaced by cold terror. My instincts scream at me to run, to hide, to get away before they come for me.

Finn’s eyes widen and he takes a step toward me, hands raised but not touching. “Hey, no, I’m not—I would never call them. I swear. I just wanted to understand what we’re dealing with, to help keep you safe.”

I search his face, his scent, looking for any hint of deception. But there’s only genuine concern and that strange protectiveness I felt from him earlier. Slowly, my racing heart begins to calm.

The easy way he mentions the Academy—like it’s just a place and not the center of my nightmares—creates a strange dissonance. In his warm, safe home, surrounded by his scent and kindness, it almost seems possible that the Academy could be just a bad memory. Something I could eventually leave behind, rather than something that would always hunt me.

Breathing out slowly, Finn gives me a hopeful half-smile. His posture relaxes, shoulders dropping as the tension dissipates. “Idon’t get to do this often,” he says, his tone brightening with deliberate cheerfulness, “so please indulge me.” I have no idea what he’s talking about, and when he gestures to the clothes behind him, I’m still lost. But the panic I just felt is fading.

Seeming to sense the shift in my mood, Finn brightens and turns back to the clothes with an exaggerated flourish. “Now, let’s focus on something more fun. I’ve got everything from cozy to cute to practical. They’re all new.” His cheeks grow warm. “I may have a slight shopping addiction I’m not ready to address.”

The shy laugh that leaves my lips is enough to make him grin, and I can’t help but stare at him. He’s so perfect. He’s wearing a different shirt now, one that hides his scars, but that isn’t the reason he’s shining like the orange rays of sunlight filtering into the room.

He’s gorgeous. Andfun, it seems.

He’s nothing like the angry, panicked omega that found me in that cabin earlier and I wonder if this is the real him. The true Finn that his alphas get to see all the time.

“These should fit,” he says, gesturing to the array of soft fabrics. “They’re really all new, so you don’t have to worry about wearing my hand-me-downs.” He shrugs. “I bought them thinking I might eventually wear them, but…I kind of forgot I had them.” He grins sheepishly. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Jax I said that. He’ll probably use it as proof that I really overdo it at the mall.” He grins again and my heart warms.

The way he talks so easily about them. Like they’re friends. It’s hard to believe it’s possible.

“This one is particularly nice.” He picks up something knitted, a riot of colors that reminds me of something out of a Dr. Seuss book. “I got this one winter but I was waiting to show it off. We got snowed in and never went anywhere the entire Christmas.” He frowns at the…what is it? A sweater?

The clothes are beautiful though—soft sweaters in various pastel shades, sweats that look butter-soft. Everything looks incrediblycomfortable. I can tell they cost a lot and I immediately worry that he’ll be wasting them on me.

Finn seems to read my mind. “It’s all yours if you want it. Honest.” He pauses, gaze skipping down my frame, and I realize I’m still only wearing the bath towel. “They’ll look good on you.”

My cheeks warm. The casual compliment brushes against something tender within me, something the Academy never managed to completely destroy. It feels dangerous to accept such words, to let them sink in and take root, but I find myself wanting to believe him. “You really think so?”

“Of course.” He says it without a doubt in his tone. “I made sure there’s no scent on them,” he adds quickly. “In case the alphas’ scents bother you.”

I almost tell him that they don’t. That their scents are nice together. All this conversation with him must have loosened my tongue. I manage to remain silent and thankfully so. If I’d let that slip, he’d have no doubt ordered me to leave. And even though that’s exactly what I should be doing, a part of me doesn’t want to go back out there. Because once I leave, there’s nowhere to go.

Finn continues. “Most omegas find multiple alpha scents overwhelming. I do. Especially when they’re not pack.”

I just shrug, unsure how to explain that the combined scents in this house feel right in a way I don’t understand.

“Well, pick whatever you like,” he says, gesturing to the clothes again. “I can even grab more if you want.”

More?

He must see the question in my eyes because he does that sheepish grin again and shrugs. “Be my guest. Go ahead.”

My nod is hesitant and I watch as he leans against the wall, an encouraging smile on his face as he observes me. I can still see it in his eyes. The questions. The uncertainty. I can still even see a bit of the male omega who panicked so much he tore off his shirt earlier. But he’s holding it all back.

He’s prioritizing helping me.

---