Page 24 of Knot My Boss

“Am I going to get pregnant now?” I ask, ready to react, depending on his answer.

“I don’t know.” Arek shrugs. “It’s a possibility, I guess,” he states with an aw-shucks attitude.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, putting a pin in the possibility of a baby, I try for patience.

“What did you pinch my neck with?” I question, unsure of what all happened at that point.

Wrinkling his nose, Arek shifts uncomfortably, with me still stuck on his dick.

“My, ah, bear…he claimed you,” he answers, cringing at the end of his statement. My hand flies to the spot where I felt the pinch. Pulling my fingers away, there is a trace of blood on them.

“He claimed me,” I say flatly, enunciating each word in order to avoid confusion.

“Yes.”

“What does this mean?” I ask sternly, wanting clarification on this.

“We are mated.”

Sitting there in stunned silence, all I can do is blink, words failing me. I can feel the pressure against my G-spot lessen, and while Arek isn’t paying much attention, I hop off his lap. I can feel his release dripping down my legs as I dress quickly,foregoing my underwear since he has it hidden somewhere. Yeah, I get it, it’s the most disgusting thing on the planet, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I need to get out of here before he fucks me stupid…again.

Arek is still on the couch, his soft cock lying against his thigh. I can feel the weight of his stare on me, but I ignore him. Moving quickly, I storm out what I hope is the front door of his house, punctuating my departure by slamming the door behind me.

I hear him calling my name as I run, as much as you can in a shit ton of snow. Arek must have opened the door, as his voice is no longer muffled as he calls after me.

“Darby, get back here. You are going to freeze. Come on, let’s talk about this.”

Continuing my rapid pace, I am confused about my location, still not being familiar with the layout of Padston. After passing several houses, the door on a little red brick house opens. An elderly woman stands in the doorway, waving me in. As I hesitate, she glances down the street toward Arek’s home as his voice becomes louder, indicating he is approaching us. Frantically waving me in, I take a chance and sprint down her sidewalk and into her home.

“Hurry up, into the shower, he will be able to track your scent,” she cautions, wrinkling her nose. “Especially with his scent all over you.” She guides me through the small bungalow. She starts the shower as I start stripping off my soiled clothes.

“Here, use this,” she says, pushing a lavender scented bar of soap into my chest before gathering up my clothes. “I’ll wash these while you wash yourself. Once I get this laundry started, I will find you something to wear.” She assesses me with her gaze.

Pushing the evening’s strange events aside, I do as instructed, washing my body multiple times to ensure all evidence of my lapse in judgment is gone. After three passes over my body with the soap, I feel confident that Arek won’t be able to find me bysmell anyway. I don’t know how sensitive his nose, or his bear’s, is.

Stepping out of the shower, I find a floral, cotton dress lying on the bathroom sink. Feeling like my night can’t get any worse, I dry off and pull the frock on before retracing my steps.

My eyes widen as my feet come to a halt.

In my haste to get cleaned up, I ignored the home’s interior. I have stepped into a time warp. The couch is an off-white base with olive drab green and orange flowers, covered in plastic. An orange-colored recliner sits at an angle next to it. A large console television is on the other side of the room. The carpet is a green shag that matches the color of the flowers in the couch and there is just clutter everywhere.

“There you are,” the woman says from behind me, catching me off guard. “Are you hungry?” Not waiting for a response before she turns around and heads back in the direction she came from.

Trailing along behind her, I tuck my lips between my teeth as my eyes travel around the room, taking in more of the same design style.

“You are Arek’s mate,” she says, not phrasing it as a question.

“So he says,” I respond, falling into a chair at the small table in her kitchen.

“I’m Mitzi Palmer,” she says, introducing herself as she fusses about the stove.

“Palmer,” I mutter to myself, my brows furrowing in concentration. It takes a moment for the name to register. “You are related to Declan and Daegyn?”

“I’m their great-aunt,” she clarifies. “Along with Arek, Rhodee, Raelee, Roree, the rest of their cousins, and their parents, yes.”

Mitzi moves about the kitchen in practiced movements, filling the table with a variety of cookies, snacks, and cold cuts while water boils to make tea.

“Thank you for rescuing me,” I say sincerely, helping myself to a cookie, moaning at the taste. Stuffed pizzelles are my favorite cookies.

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