Page 25 of Knot Playing Fair 2

ELEVEN

Nat

I COULDN’T SEEM TObreak free of the horrified paralysis pinning me in place. Instead, I continued to stare open-mouthed at the male alpha I’d let do unspeakable things to me in a hotel room.

“Just to be crystal clear,” the alpha said, “youare, in fact, Mia’s good-for-nothing husband? Not a random hookup who decided to turn stalker, and arbitrarily chose today to show up at my door and murder me with an ax or something?”

I snapped my jaw shut, swallowing a couple of times to get some moisture back in my mouth. “I’m Mia’s husband.” It emerged as a bare rasp.

Piercing gray eyes slid closed for a moment before opening again. “Of course you fucking are.”

That inescapable alpha gaze landed on me like a ton of bricks. If the weight had been physical, I’d have been crushed into a sad little puddle of blood and grease on the front porch.

I couldn’t come up with any more words. At least, none that weren’t some variation ofohfuck-ohfuck-ohfuck-whathaveIdone.

“Right,” said the alpha, his voice low enough not to carry to anyone else in the house. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. You and I have never laid eyeson each other before today. I’m Byron. Pleased to fucking meet you,asshole. Now pull yourself together and stop looking like you’re about to fall over.”

It took several blank seconds for the meaning of what he’d just said to penetrate. When it did, I grasped at the words like a lifeline.

“Yes. Okay. Good plan.” I looked from side to side, as though I might find the sanity I’d just lost, perhaps hanging from one of the elegant carriage lamps flanking the open door. No such luck, sadly. “Pleased to, erm, meet you.”

I offered him my hand to shake on autopilot; my higher brain functions still nowhere to be seen.

Hookup Guy—Byron—stared down at it for a beat, before muttering something I couldn’t make out. He turned on his heel and disappeared into the house, so I let my hand drop and took that as an invitation to enter. After closing the door behind me, I found myself in a pleasant entryway. Byron was already halfway down the attached hallway. I hurried after him, feeling like I’d just walked into a fever dream... or possibly my own personal hell.

If I allowed myself to think about any of it too closely, I’d turn around and sprint out of the house, then get in the Jeep and keep driving until I hit an ocean.

Byron turned and disappeared into an open entryway.

“Mia, your ball and chain is here,” I heard him call.

I hesitantly entered an airy and well-appointed kitchen. For the first time in my life, I truly understood the alphomic concept ofterritory. I was an intruder here, for all that I’d been invited. The sense of trespassing on a space that belonged to someone else was visceral—an almost physical pressure pushing against my skin.

Five people waited for me inside. Mia rose from the barstool she’d been perching on, giving me a strained smile as she approached.

“Hi, Nat,” she said. “Grab a seat wherever you like. Can I get you a drink or something?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I said, taking in the pristine countertops and shiny appliances. “Wow. Guess I can see now why you left me for these guys.”

The words were out before I even realized they were forming on my tongue—my mouth still running on autopilot, without any oversight from my brain. The kitchen went absolutely silent.

It... wasn’t a good kind of silence.

“Shit,” I cursed. “Sorry, I meant... I didn’t mean...”

“Pretty sure she left you because you told her you wanted to fuck other people,” Byron said, casually examining the fingernails of his left hand. “But, hey, whatever story you need to tell yourself, bro.”

“Byron,” said a light-skinned Black man seated at the kitchen table. I recognized him from the night I’d found Mia in a singles bar, and later, from the restaurant.

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