Page 35 of Knot All that Glitters: Part 1

I should be there in a few hours, at most.

Jude:

Fuck yeah, can’t wait to see you, baby.

“They texting again?” Ren asks, reentering the room with her arms full of my stuff. I move to help, but she pins me witha warning look. I sink back against the pillows and watch as she dumps the items into the suitcase.

“Why do you ask?”

“You’ve got that dopey look on your face.”

“I do not!”

“Oh, you absolutely do. You look like this.” Her face melts into a big stupid smile and her eyelids flutter, and she looks absolutely ridiculous.

“I do not look like that.”

“You do. Every time they text, you look like that.” She wanders to my desk and picks up my most recent journal and my favorite pen before adding it to my suitcase. The last thing she puts on top is the ragged stuffed bunny that I hide under my pillow, to keep my father from seeing it. It's the only thing I have that my mother gave me and BunBun goes with me everywhere.

The sound of the zipper echoes through the room before Ren looks up, arching a brow. “Stop pouting, babe. It’s cute. You’re happy. If you look like an idiot while texting, I think it’s probably worth it.”

I kick out at my suitcase, scowling at her, before it melts as I ask, “Do you think they’d think it’s cute?”

She laughs. “I think they adore everything about you. But then I’m biased, so who knows?” She grabs my foot and squeezes. “Now come on, you pouty princess. Your chariot awaits.”

Chapter 10: Instincts

I can’t stop primping the house. Can’t sit still.

Haven is coming today. Any minute now she’ll pull up in front of our pack house, and I… weirdly want everything to be perfect.

No, not ‘weirdly’. It’s normal for an alpha to want to provide a safe and comfortable space for an omega. It’s normal for an alpha to want to prove he can provide for her. Alpha instincts that have me plumping pillows and draping the throw blankets over the back of the couch just right.

It’s instinct that woke me up far too early this morning to get started on food for Haven. It’s instincts that sent me to the store twice already today, once because the pillows on the guest room bed weren’t right, and again because Haven mentioned her favorite chips are Funyuns and I wanted to be sure to have them on hand for her. Even though none of the rest of us will eat them.

Instincts, I tell myself as I check the sourdough bread in the oven.

Instincts, I tell myself when I not so subtly rub my face on the pillows on the bed, leaving my scent on them.

Instincts, I tell myself when I casually leave one of my hoodies in her room… you know, just in case she also feels driven by instinct to be surrounded by my scent. Fuck, I hope she is.

Over the last two weeks, we haven’t had a moment alone with Haven. We’ve texted near constantly, seen her at events where her father doesn’t let her out of sight and that weasel, Brian, keeps her close to his side.

I have to wonder if they somehow know she snuck out to see us and Florence, if they gave her the illusion of freedom, when really they knew exactly what she was up to. But then, if that was the case, I’m sure that Frederick Bell would have warned us away from his daughter. The man clearly doesn’t support pack life, and so the last thing he’d want is his daughter being tied to a pack. Right?

It’s why Haven is a big part of our plan. Her being with a pack undermines him and his backwards policies.

“Will you please stop?” Hale grouses at me from his reclined position on the couch. He’s got his laptop perched on his lap, and I am certain he’s busy plotting. Or maybe he’s actually working.

“We want her to feel welcome, don’t we? Like we made an effort?”

He rolls his eyes. “The drugs you’re going to dose her with will do that.”

My gaze narrows on him. “We agreed it would be just enough to loosen her up.”

“We did. Loosen her up, make her more receptive to us, but not affect her cognitive abilities. We want her to still decide, to choose us.”

Right, because it’ll be more painful for her and her father if they realize she let us do this to her. My nose wrinkles as I lookaway from our prime. Words I know I shouldn’t say bubble at the back of my throat.

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