Page 3 of Knot What She Seems
I shake my head at myself as I round a corner, trying to snap out of the brittle anger I feel. To shake off my desire to run after that omega in the car and shout warnings.
An inarticulate longing that’s both vague and intense rises up inside of me. I have no clue what I actually want from life right now. I only seem to have a list of things Idon’twant.
I don’t want to be at Darling.
I don’t want to be given to a group of alphas.
I don’t want my brother to keep hurting.
Ugh, my list of negatives makes me want to slap myself for how ungrateful it makes me seem as I reach the steps to Caran’s building—a refurbished brick warehouse that has that sleek-meets-rundown industrial charm. The omega lives on the third floor, and the elevator’s always broken, so I have to dash up the steps.
One massive neighbor, an alpha with muscles for days and a thick scar running down the side of his neck, passes me on the stairwell.
Immediately, I stiffen and my heart rate triples, tension tightening my spine.
His eyes drift over, as alphas’ gazes always do when they’re near an omega, but I keep my own gaze down as I clutch my hood closer and hope the dirt still clinging to my cloak provides a deterrent. Makes me look poor or sloppy or both. Anything that avoids marking me as a princess.
His gaze drops, and instantly I wish I’d changed my shoes—the pink kitten heels required by the Darling Academy uniform are pretty recognizable. But there was no time.
Besides, there’s no way this guy knows I’m in my second year of finishing school and not my third, when I’d be allowed to have after-hours, off-campus visits to whatever alpha group I’m gifted to.
God, I still hate that phrase.
After I make a quick turn on the landing, he’s gone from my sight and thoughts as I arrive, breathless, at Caran’s door. My fist pounds out a familiar tune that’s probably unrecognizable to anyone else, but Caran knows. I hit in a little rhythm as I mouth the chorus to Lana Del Rey’s “Summertime Sadness.” We spent a lot of nights last summer singing it while we were drunk on his couch—right after Teddie was diagnosed.
The door opens and Caran, a bright whirlwind of omega energy, stands in front of me. His curly mop of hair is flattened on one side and poofy on the other. The red rims underneath his eyes betray the fact that he must have been crying earlier.
But the rest of him is perfectly tailored as usual. Even though he hasn’t left the house today, he’s wearing a deep blue collared shirt with a sailboat pattern on it, navy trousers, and some boat shoes without socks. His self-appointed style has always been “yacht-ready” because, per his philosophy, you never know when a hot mafioso-type will kidnap you and take you on a sexy cruise around the world.
He’s way too into365 Days.
My brother’s boyfriend gives me a smile that’s equal parts welcoming and sad. “Come on in.”
He gestures with a sweep of his arm toward his apartment, which is a mesh of industrial lighting with hippie furniture. Sitting in the middle of the living room is a low couch that’s a gradient fade from green to blue and is covered in patterned pillows. Twin tree-trunk coffee tables are in front of it, and I spot my brother’s feet propped up on one of them.
Moving closer as I toss my cloak over the back of a chair, I catch my twin brother scrolling on his phone. His blond hair sticks up in a way that tells me he’s spent the day on that couch.
“Hey, booger,” I tease, using a nickname from when we were four.
“Sup, poopsicle,” he retorts, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside him and gracing me with his easy grin. His dimple pops a little less than usual on his cheek, and I wonder if he’s lost weight.
“I learned how to seat dinner party guests according to potential business arrangements today,” I report as I sit down on the back of the couch, slide my legs over the top to the front, and then plop down into the seat, enjoying the way Teddie bounces when I land. “So, if you ever need an underwear modeling gig, I know just who to sit you next to.”
A pillow whacks me in the head, but not from Teddie’s direction. From Caran’s. Still standing behind the couch and holding a sunflower-printed weapon of fluffy destruction in his hands, the omega glares at me. “He’ll keep his underwear modeling contract withme, thank you very much.”
I shrug, tossing my palms up as I tease Caran. “Hey, I’m just letting him know he has options.”
“I’ve already got the best option.” Teddie kisses ass.
Caran smirks as he crosses behind us and leans down to kiss my brother on the forehead. They are so sweet together that it’s borderline disgusting.
Fingers tangling for a moment, they stare into each other’s eyes with a look that every single person on the planet has to envy no matter their life situation. The look is pure devotion.
Caran breaks the moment first, unwinding their hands and dropping the pillow onto the couch next to my brother. “That’s right. You’re damn lucky. Now, keep that sister of yours and her wild business machinations under control. I’ve got to go check my lasagna.”
“Yes. Those are magic words. You go do that kitchen tending, wench,” I tease.
“Putting a cockroach in your slice,” Caran quips without bothering to look back.
