Page 29 of Knot Your Karma
“Jesus,” the man gasps from the ground, his voice strained but somehow... not threatening. It’s deep and measured, with an accent that’s definitely not local. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”
Something about his tone makes me pause. More importantly, it doesn’t sound like the voice of someone who means me harm.
But my pulse is still hammering from adrenaline, and my hands won’t stop shaking.
“Then what are you doing lurking around my front yard in the dark?” I demand, still poised to run if necessary.
“Looking for you,” he says simply, slowly pushing himself up to sitting position in the mud. “Reed gave me your address.”
Reed sent?—
Lightning flashes again, and for a split second I can see him clearly through the rain-soaked disaster that is myevening. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair plastered to his head by the storm like he’s auditioning for some kind of brooding romance novel cover. Work clothes, tool belt, the same kind of practical boots that Declan wears, which should probably be my first clue about who this is, except my brain is still operating at about fifteen percent capacity.
Oh no. Oh no no no.
“Adrian?” I whisper, and my voice comes out squeaky with horror.
“That’s me,” he confirms, wiping mud from his face with remarkable patience. He unfolds from the ground like he’s been sleeping there instead of tackled into mud. Even soaked and clearly in pain, he moves with that particular grace big men have when they’re completely comfortable in their own skin. “And you must be Karma. Reed said you were... spirited. He didn’t mention excellent defensive instincts. I’m kind of proud.”
I just attacked the third pack member. I just kneed Adrian Blackwood in the groin twice and took him down in my front yard like some kind of deranged omega warrior.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The words tumble out in a panicked rush. “I thought you were a burglar or a serial killer or someone trying to break into my house, and it’s dark and pouring and you were just standing there looking all tall and intimidating, and I have terrible fight-or-flight instincts that apparently lean heavily toward fight, and oh my god, did I seriously just knee you in the groin? Twice? Are you okay? Do you need ice? Should I call someone? Reed is going to kill me when he finds out I attacked you!”
“Breathe,” Adrian says in that same tone people use to calm spooked horses. My breathing immediately slows to match his, like my lungs just remembered how to work properly. When he’s on his feet, I realize he’s even taller than Declan, but something about his presence feels lessoverwhelming. More grounding. “I’ll live. Though I have to say, that’s not usually how I prefer to meet people.”
“I am so, so sorry. You scared me and I reacted without thinking and?—”
“Hey.” His voice cuts through my panic. “You protected yourself. That’s smart, not something to apologize for.”
I stare at him through the rain, and even covered in mud and clearly in pain, there’s something grounding about him. He’s not angry. He’s not threatening. He’s just... steady. Like a tree you could lean against during a storm.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, having to raise my voice over the thunder. “How did you even find my house?”
“Reed thought I might want to meet you.” Adrian glances around at the storm, then back at me with what might be the ghost of a smile. “What are you doing out here getting soaked?”
“I’m locked out,” I admit, feeling completely ridiculous. “I grabbed the wrong keys and now I can’t get in my house and it’s pouring and I probably look like a drowned rat and I just attacked someone who was trying to... wait. Reed thought you might want to meet me?”
Something shifts in Adrian’s expression—not quite embarrassment, but definitely self-consciousness. Rain drips from his dark hair, and I notice his eyes are gray like storm clouds. “He mentioned you two... connected. Said meeting you felt like finding something he didn’t know he was looking for.”
Oh.Oh.
Heat floods my face so fast I probably look like a tomato. “He told you about that?”
“Pack shares important information,” Adrian says simply. “Especially about potential connections.”
The wordpackmakes me sit up straighter against my locked door. I don’t mean to—my spine just straightens like someone called my name from across a crowded room. The way he says it, looking directly at me through the rain withthose storm-gray eyes, makes my stomach flip. Not just casual curiosity. Personal interest.
“So you came to check me out,” I say, and it’s not really a question.
“I came to see if Reed was right about the chemistry,” Adrian admits. “Though getting tackled in your front yard wasn’t exactly part of the plan.”
I find myself almost smiling. “And?”
“And what?”
“Was he right?”
Adrian looks at me for a long moment—soaked and muddy and probably looking like a disaster, standing in my front yard in a downpour. When he speaks, his voice is quieter, more careful. “Ask me again when we’re both dry and I can think about something other than the pain.”
