Page 94 of Knot All is Crystal
He didn’t know I have a migraine. It’s my responsibility to manage my pain without being an asshole to everyone around me. This is my pack, and I can’t take it out on them.
“Hey, Maverick,” I say, angling my body towards him. “I’m really sorry, buddy. Come sit with us, yeah? What do you think Crystal needs?”
The Alpha seems to shake off his fog at my words and launches onto the empty armchair. “No idea. I was gonna be here anyway, though. My house feels so empty now that I know what sleeping with her is like.”
I feel a twinge of jealousy that I didn’t get that time with her. I know we’ll all have unique relationships with her, but I can’t help but feel like I’ll be left behind because sometimes I can’t show up.
When I got Crystal’s text an hour ago, the special alert sound I set for her woke me from a fitful sleep, and I immediately rolled out of bed. Now I’m wringing my hands anxiously, waiting for her to come home.
Does she not want us?
Is she calling us here to tell us she’s changed her mind?
Did something happen at work?
Of course, something happened at work. She texted while she was there.
I hear a key in the door and clutch onto Burger to keep him from rushing towards her. When Crystal walks around the corner, a growl rips out of my throat, and Maverick rushes her, his voice equally raspy.
Crystal has a mass of purple bruises around her neck in the shape of a hand.
“What happened?” Maverick demands. “Who the fuck did this?”
“Kieran,” she says, sounding like she smoked a pack of cigarettes on the way home. Did he damage her vocal cords?
I’ll fuckingkillhim.
“He knows about you guys,” she continues, slumping into Maverick’s waiting arms. “He knows.”
“Puck,” Gage snarls. “That fucking piece of shit.”
“It wasn’t Puck,” she insists. “It wasn’t.”
I’m not so sure. He’s the right hand of a monster. Can he be that much better? When I met him, the first thing he did was slam me against a wall.
Sure, he thought he was protecting Crystal from me, but still.
He kept crucial information from her for a long time.
“Can we go to the nest?” she asks weakly. Maverick doesn’t answer. He scoops her up in his arms and buries his face in her neck as he walks her into the small, closet-like room.
We all settle around her, and though it takes some coaxing, I convince Maverick to let her recline against me so I can breathe in some of her sweet peppermint scent. It’s not a perfect fix, but it does give me a small amount of relief from the pain and allows me to be more present in the conversation.
Gage hangs awkwardly on the periphery, unsure if he’s supposed to be here. But our Omega is observant, and she calls him towards us, and eventually, we’re all in a puppy pile together, touching her, stroking her hair, and purring.
“I have some … news.” It takes her a moment to find the word, betraying how conflicted she is about this information. I knead her shoulders, silently encouraging her.
“Puck is an Alpha.”
My hands freeze.
I must’ve misheard her because the Puck that was here was very much a Beta. A big one, to be sure, but a Beta.
“That’s not possible,” I tell her. “We met him.”
“He’s been taking some meds to repress his Alpha nature.”
“I’ve never heard of meds like that,” Maverick muses. “Where would he get them?”
