Page 61 of Knot my Alphas

“What’s so funny?” he asks at once.

“You,” I say, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Did you miss me?”

“Nope! Why would I? I’m having a fucking great time being a cripple who can’t even go down the stairs.”

I peck at his lips and when he doesn’t respond, lightly bite his lower lip.

“You picked up a bad habit from Damon,” he says, turning his face away and rubbing at his lips. “Ugh! I’ve been trying so hard not to think about him. Now you’ve made me miss him all over again.”

“Fiiiiine,” I say, stretching the word. “It’sallmy fault.”

“So, did you see him last night?” he asks, trying to look nonchalant but failing.

“No,” I say, feeling a hint of disappointment. “Raiden didn’t come home either. It was just Caleb and he came home after midnight. He looked so exhausted, I made him stay home until eight this morning.”

“Mmm,” he says, sniffing at my neck. “I smell him on you.” A frown comes on his lips next. “Why can’t I smell your perfume, though?”

“I used a de-scenter before going out to run,” I say.

“Oh.” Understanding spreads over his face. “Good thinking. Your perfume is so exotic and sweet, it’ll easily attract a beta’s attention too.” His expression turns curious. “So, did you guys spend the night together?”

The question alerts me. That old fear of encroaching on his mates flickers up inside me.

I slowly nod and closely watch him for his reaction.

“I’m glad,” he says with a relieved look. “I’ve been feeling awful for not being able to look after them. My stupid leg and stupid ribs and my stupid bruises...” He huffs, an annoyed frown marring his beautiful face. “Thank fuck you’re around now.”

“So...you’re not mad?”

“Mad?” he asks, looking confused. “You mean, not being able to have you all to myself last night?”

I shake my head. “About me being with Caleb. I feel that you’re closest to him.”

He chuckles. “That’s because he likes to be a giant alpha and fuss over everyone. He’s like that with Damon and Raiden too,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “You have no idea about the number of times people assumed I’m his brother too.”

Relief spreads through me, making me smile. “What do you want for breakfast?” I ask, feeling thoroughly happy.

“Oatmeal.”

“What?” I stare at him.

He cringes. “I don’t want to grow a flabby tummy by eating sweet stuff and sitting on my ass all day.” He pokes at his abs which I know are rock-hard despite his worries. He winces.

“Stop doing that!” I say, snatching his hand away so he can stop nudging at his broken ribs.

“Ugh! I hate my life.”

He’s being so dramatic, I can’t help but think of Delilah. She used to behave the same way every time a tiny pimple or bump grew on her forehead or chin. She’d immediately start drinking detox juices for all her meals.

Maybe it’s another quirk to being an omega.

“You’ve got to eat things that make you happy,” I say. “What’s the point of eating oatmeal when it’ll end up depressing you?”

“I’d rather be depressed than ugly.”

“You’re not ugly!”

He pouts and kicks at the blanket by his foot.

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