Page 71 of Knot Your Rebel

A scribble above his heart grabs my attention, and I squint, hoping that will help me see it better.

He notices where my attention is drawn and sidles closer to me. The words come into view. My Rebel is tattooed in a script font. I want to turn around.

My fingers itch to touch it, but I refrain. He’s branded himself with my name. Why didn’t I notice that before now?

The skin around it is red and puffy as if it’s new, but when did he have time to get it?

“You like it?” he whispers in my ear, reaching out to touch me like he’s as desperate to feel my skin against his as I am. His muscular arms frame me against the sink.

“When?”

He smiles. “Earlier.”

I tilt my head, analyzing him. “When did you leave?”

“I didn’t.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Had my guy come here.” His lips tip up into his typical smirk. Of course, he has a tattoo artist on call. He would.

“Why?”

“You needed to see it branded onto me. You needed to know I wasn’t going to run. I’m not going anywhere. I’m in this Rebel. One hundred percent. We can fight whatever demons you have together.”

I sigh as my eyes once again find my disheveled reflection. “You deserve better than a broken girl.”

“Then let me fix you. You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be cherished and reminded daily that you are perfect. We all have flaws, and yours are fucking beautiful to me. We can be broken together. I don’t want someone who’s normal. Okay? I just want you. What do I have to do for you to believe me?” A tear forms in my eyes at his sweet words. Where did my domineering, asshole alpha run off to? And who is this sweet one?

He sighs, grabbing my shoulders and turning me so I face him straight on. “Maybe this will help.” Reaching for the waistband of his pants, he starts to pull them down.

I shake my head, reaching out to try and stop him. “Tate, I’m not really in the mood.”

“Just wait.” The movement continues, the sweats he’s wearing slip over his hips and down his muscular thighs. Another piece of skin, red and puffy, slips into view like the one on his chest. Is that a…

There’s a tattoo in the spot right above his cock that holds three words. “For Rebel only.”

My eyebrows raise in amazement. “You tattooed your dick for me?”

“Don’t you realize I’d do anything for you?” I swallow, but I can’t make any words come out. I want to cry. No one has ever gone to these levels to try and convince me that we’re meant to be.

The only question in my mind slips out. “Didn’t that hurt?”

“Like a motherfucker.” He smirks and a small smile forms on my lips.

This alpha.

My alpha.

“I think you’re beautiful.” He holds my gaze as he says it to me like maybe it’ll sink if I’m focused on his words.

I scoff. “If this,” I point to my face, “is your idea of what beautiful looks like, then I suggest checking in with your eye doctor. Because if looking like I’ve been beaten to within an inch of my life is beautiful, then maybe you should get that gorgeous head of yours checked while you’re at it.”

“For your information, my eyesight is twenty-twenty. And… don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t talk down about my omega,” he growls.

I quirk an eyebrow. “Yours?”

“Fuck yes, you’re mine. And I’ll have to take it personally if you continue to tear yourself down. How can you not see how strong you’ve become. You may have nightmares, and your mind may crawl into the dark spaces you’ve yet to share with me, but you haven’t been defeated, Rebel. You’re still here. You’re still breathing. When I look at you, I see incredible strength. You’re an omega who didn’t cow down and take the easy way out, even though I’m sure you’ve thought about it. ” Reaching out, his thumb brushes against the ragged bagginess under my eyes. He sighs. “Will you tell me?”

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