Page 18 of Knotted By the Demon

Silence stretched between us, heavy and oppressive. I could hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. It was just a name. Why did asking him what his name was get him so worked up?

"My name isn't important," he finally muttered, his tone clipped and cold.

I rolled my eyes, exasperation overriding any nervousness. "Of course, it is. Names say a lot about a person," I pointed out. "What's yours, big guy?"

A sarcastic chuckle escaped him as he glanced up at me from under those dark lashes. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine. This man was dangerous. But I couldn’t seem to work up enough energy to turn away from him.

"So, a name tells you a lot about a person, huh?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

I swallowed hard but met his gaze head-on. "Yup," I agreed, popping the 'p' for effect, my bravado a thin veneer over my mounting anxiety. Did he not have a name? Or was it something so strange that he was ashamed to share it? He held my stare for a moment, and something cold but amused flickered in his eyes.

“My name is Demon,” he confessed at last, his voice low, almost challenging. “What does that say about me?”

I stared at him with my mouth open, not knowing how to respond.Demon. I hadn’t expected that.What was I supposed to say to that?

“Is that your real name?” I questioned.

“It’s the name my mother gave me. The name I’m registered under,” he answered.

Oh... damn.

“Ummm...” I hesitated, looking to Greek for help, pleading with my eyes. The omega shrugged, clearly waiting to hear what I’d say next. “I guess it says... you’re...”

I had nothing. Absolutely nothing. The alpha was staring at me, awaiting a response. My heart raced, and I felt a chill creep up my spine.Demon. His real name was Demon. Not a nickname. Not a name he’d earned. It’s what his mother called him. The name fit him unnervingly well, with his piercing eyes and intimidating presence.

Still... Demon? I opened my mouth to respond but found myself at a loss for words. I could feel Greek’s gaze flicking between Demon and me, waiting to see how I'd react. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Go ahead. Tell me what my name says about me,” the alpha demanded, unwilling to let this go, forcing me into a corner.

I took a deep breath.Think Sofi, think.

"It says..." I began as I wracked my brain for a proper response. "It says you're not afraid to embrace the darkness within you because you’re strong enough to control it."

There! How was that?Demon's eyes narrowed, a hint of surprise flashing across his face before it was quickly masked by his usual stoic expression.

"Is that so?" he murmured, his tone unreadable.

I nodded, forcing myself to maintain eye contact despite the urge to look away.

"But names don't define us entirely,” I continued, trying to talk myself out of the situation I’d gotten myself into. My dad always told me that one day I’d write a check with my mouth that my ass couldn’t cash. It was a Southern saying that I was finally understanding.

“It's our actions that truly reveal who we are,” I told the alpha. “Your mom named you Demon. That’s not on you. That’s on her. How you choose to live is on you. Right?” I asked.

A heavy silence fell over us as Demon considered my words. A grunt was his only response. But his scent wasn’t heavy with anger. So, that was a good thing. Plus, his lips quirked, just barely, as he looked back down at the tray.

I released a sigh and noticed a slight smile on Greek’s face that remained there until the alpha made his next move. The alpha lifted a slice of bacon and brought it toward Greek’s mouth.

“Eat,” he demanded, his tone softer, though there was still an edge to it, like he was unused to sounding gentle.

Greek’s eyes met mine, searching for reassurance. I nodded. He needed to eat, even if it was only a little bit. He had to regain his strength. I watched in silence as the alpha...Demon, fed Greek, being patient with him, not rushing him. Greek stared down, not meeting Demon’s blue gaze.

But from the omega’s scent, I could tell he was no longer afraid of the alpha. How could anyone fear an alpha who was kneeling before you, feeding you slowly while staring at you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen?

Then again, given Greek’s bruises, he was probably afraid of all alphas. I decided to continue talking to him to make sure he understood that he was safe, completely ignoring the fact that I was currently tied up.Oh, the irony.

“You’re doing so good, Greek,” I told him softly.

The alpha tensed, and the omega’s eyes swung to mine. I smiled brightly, wanting him to know he was okay.

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