Page 32 of Knot Going Down
“Oh… um… it’s never… I mean…” Emily takes her hand back and stands up. “I guess the same rules apply as with alphas, right? They could run off with a scent match and leave me just as easily.”
Shit, I scared her. Completely misread this—as usual.
“Sorry.” I stand up. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn’t trying to imply anything. Just curious. You know?”
“Right.” She wipes her palms over her shirt, then bounces on her toes putting on a wide smile. “Well, we should come up with a plan to find those pills.”
I brush the dog hair off myself, disappointed that I ruined the moment, but grateful that she wants to help. “What do you have in mind?”
18
DECLAN
Iwasn’t planning on having breakfast with a man I hate and a man I don’t know. But Emily’s still not back, so I’m left at a table with only Knox and Lucas for company.
“So, we getting food or not?” Knox says, eyeing the buffet.
“We should wait for Emily.” I take a sip of water.
“She told us to eat,” Lucas points out. “It has been some time. Perhaps she decided to stay with Ava. We can bring food back for both of them.”
“That’s a great idea.” Knox snaps his fingers. “Let’s fuel up, then get our girls some treats.”
“We could also take our food to go,” I suggest.
“Then we can’t get seconds.” Knox claps me on the back as he stands up. The man has gotten way too comfortable since getting those handcuffs off.
Normally I’d push back, but I’m starving. And Ava seemed like she wanted some space from all the testosterone and alpha pheromones. The woman has been as jumpy as a feral cat, especially around me and Knox. Most betas are a little hesitant around alphas, but there’s a higher percentage of alphas among Olympic athletes, so she should be used to it.
I’m usually pretty good at reading people, but Ava confuses me. One moment she comes off as cocky, arrogant, and fake. The next she’s skittish and looks ready to bolt.
“Fine.” I stand. “We’ll eat first. Then take food back to the room.”
The cruise ship buffet is less a meal and more an all-you-can-eat fever dream. It stretches across the deck like a glittering food carnival, with stations that seem to multiply when you’re not looking. There’s a suspiciously enthusiastic omelet guy flipping eggs like he’s on a cooking show, a fruit display that looks like it was carved by angels—or very bored chefs—and a dessert table that could probably be classified as a religious experience.
People roam the offerings with the focus of hunters and the plates of overachievers, stacking shrimp cocktails next to fluffy waffles like it’s completely normal. I guess, here, it is. While I scoop scrambled egg whites onto my dish beside my bowl of oatmeal, a woman bumps into me holding a plate with only pink pudding and bacon. It’s chaotic, glorious, and mildly dangerous for the ship’s plumbing.
By the time I make it back to the table, Lucas and Knox are already there. Lucas has a ham and spinach omelet with crispy hash brown and a bowl of stunningly beautiful melon. Knox has a dish of the mysterious pink pudding beside a tower of waffles drizzled with a metric ton of syrup and a mountain of berries. At least the asshole has a bowl of sausage links, too. Hopefully the protein intake will keep him from pissing me off too much when his sugar high crashes.
Before digging in, Knox drops his head and stays silent for a minute. Is he praying? Wouldn’t have guessed that. He doesn’t give off the religious vibe. Maybe it’s a ritual he has before eating. Mindful intuitive eating maybe?
Knox’s thumb trails over the beaded bracelet he wears wrapped around his wrist. About a minute passes, then he looks up and goes about eating normally.
I want to ask him about it, but I don’t think he’d answer me honestly. The man is antagonistic to a fault. Guess I’m not much better, though, if I’m honest. Something about him brings out the alpha in me, makes me want to subdue and dominate him. A brief flash of an image fills my mind. A true domination. Knox on his knees. My hands yanking his hair as I slam my cock down his throat.
Fucking brain. I don’t want to subdue himthatway. I want to lock him up and make him pay for his association with Glenn, for the life he leads that puts others in danger. But I’ll settle for using him to get to the real villain.
Maybe punish him a bit along the way.
“What’s got your forehead all wrinkly, DEA?” Knox says through a mouthful of waffles.
“Just thinking about how good it would feel to choke you,” I say without thinking. Fuck. I meant that as a jab, not a sexual innuendo.
But, of course, Knox latches on and doesn’t let it go. His eyebrows lift suggestively. “Is that what you’re into? Does Ly know that?”
“Lee?”
“Emily.” He looks quickly away, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “She’s not exactly the choking type.”
