Page 80 of Knot Playing Fair 2

There was a pause. “I can’t smell blood. Well, just mine, I mean.” Byron’s larger shadow shuffled toward the omega in the corner with a hitching limp in his gait. “Luca?”

A desperate, angry snarl sounded from the corner as Byron approached.

“Crap. Okay. Okay, I’m not going to touch you,” Byron said, backing off. “I’ll just be over here by the desk.”

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, not feeling right about referring to the omega in the third person, but needing to know.

Byron settled against the blocky silhouette that must be the desk. A heavy sigh escaped him. “PTSD? I’m guessing, anyway. Fun fact—the same gang that’s after your restaurant kept Luca prisoner for years. They used him for... well. I’ll let you engage your imagination. Anyway, he might know me, but I’m still analpha. And I expect the last thing he wants right now is an alpha anywhere near him.”

My breath caught as the coin dropped. I knew better than to fall into the ‘helpless, delicate omega’ stereotype, after having been married to one who could put drill sergeants to shame. But everything I’d seen of Luca pointed to a quiet, sensitive soul—the kind of person you wanted to wrap up in a blanket and ply with hot cocoa until the melancholy behind his huge green eyes faded to peacefulness.

Or... maybe itwasn’tnormal to think of someone you barely knew like that. But, damn it, it had been pretty well established already that I wasn’t as straight as I might have liked. If a sweet and beautiful male omega managed to dig his way into my emotions, maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise.

I thought of Mia being held captive.Used. Bile rose in my throat, followed by a wave of hot anger. Back when we’d been able to communicate properly, I’d known what she needed when she was truly upset about something. The idea of her friend—maybe one of her lovers—being thrown headfirst into what must be his worst nightmare and then left to huddle trembling in a corner, broke open something inside me.

“I’m not an alpha,” I said quietly, and limped over until I was just outside the radius where Luca had started growling at Byron.

This was uncharted territory, but I pictured what I would do for Mia if—godfuckingforbid—she’d been the one hyperventilating in a corner.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m going to sit down right here, okay? You’re safe, no one’s going to touch you without asking first. I just don’t want you to be alone.”

The ragged, fearful panting paused, as though Luca had momentarily held his breath. It resumed a few seconds later, but no warning growl followed. I eased myself down the wallto a sitting position, my head swimming as my bruised kidney protested the movement in the strongest possible terms.

I was aware of a heavy alpha gaze on me—watchful and wordlessly threatening.Do not fuck this up, that gaze said. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, covering a fresh flinch of pain.

“I’m sure the police will be here soon,” I said. “We were right outside a busy restaurant. Someone must have seen what happened.”

The snort from the desk implied Byron had his own opinion about that. I glared at him, doubting he could see the expression properly.

“I’m going to come a bit closer now,” I told Luca. “Unless you tell me not to. We just need to keep calm until the cavalry gets here, right?”

I scooted within arm’s length, only to be rewarded with a lightning-quick slap across the face—my third of the night.

“Ow,” I said, my palm coming up to cover the stinging mark.

“Youfucking asshole!” Luca shouted in my face, the words wet with repressed tears. “How could you betray Mia like that?Bothof you!”

I winced. Apparently, wewerestill having this conversation, kidnappers and all.

“Because I’m an idiot,” I said tiredly. “A beta idiot living in the closet and terrified of admitting that I might be gay.”

“Christ, you’re dense,” Byron muttered from his perch. “In case no one has clued you into this before, bisexuals exist. Mind you, so do self-absorbed assholes. I should know.”

“Youarean idiot!” Luca choked. A sob wracked him, ugly and wrenching. “Fuck, I can’t be here. I have to get out of here!I can’t do this again!”

The last sentence was barely intelligible as Luca curled forward into a sobbing ball. Aware that I was one twitch away from getting slapped again, clawed, or worse, I scooted arounduntil I was sitting next to him against the wall, only a few inches separating us.

With a moan, Luca toppled sideways into me. I caught him around the shoulders mostly on instinct, the scent of green grass and sweet summer flowers filling my nose. Conflicting emotions washed through me in waves—guilt at holding someone else who was close to Mia so intimately... embarrassment over the picture I must make, on the floor with a crying man in my arms. But that self-consciousness was buried beneath a strange sense of rightness at being someone’s comfort in the midst of the storm.

An unaccustomed protectiveness welled up in my chest. I couldn’t begin to imagine what the omega in my arms must have been through. The idea that he might be in danger now made me want to cave in the skull of anyone who dared try to hurt him. It was an uncivilized, barbaric impulse—completely foreign to the person I’d always believed myself to be.

Byron came over, keeping his distance, but joining us in the same part of the room. He lowered himself down with a pained grunt, one leg held awkwardly out in front of him. My eyes had adjusted enough that I could make out his face in the darkness. Our gazes locked, and something of my helpless confusion must have shown through.

“I know,” Byron said to whatever he saw in my expression. “Don’t feel bad. He just has that effect on people.”

We stayed like that for hours, Luca’s sobs eventually quieting as he slipped into a restless doze. Outside the window, the dirty sodium light glow of the city faded to a lighter gray as a new day dawned, cloudy and lackluster.

It revealed our surroundings in more detail. The old metal desk Byron had been leaning against, its legs bolted to the floor. Bars on the window, rusty but solid looking. Some odds and ends of old junk lying around—a battered mop bucket, a few moldering banker’s boxes.

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