Page 69 of Knot What She Seems
Clearing my throat, I glance away from him. “Thanks. So, um. I don’t really know what to say.”
He chuckles, and I’m a little ashamed of how the sound melts my stomach as a waitress comes over and brings us glasses of water before taking our orders.
After she leaves, Luka sheds his jacket. Beneath it, he’s not wearing the gym clothes I’m used to seeing him in. He’s wearing a dark blue polo that clings to his biceps when he leans an elbow on the table and props his head on it. “Tell me all about you. Favorite childhood memory?”
He wants to treat this forced dinner like a real date?
For a second, I debate lying to him because he’d deserve it.
But so much of my childhood was in the public eye anyway that I doubt I’d be able to get away with it. And I’m already juggling enough lies as it is—I really don’t have the emotional capacity to balance one more.
So, grabbing my water and taking a long sip from my straw to buy time, I rack my brain. “When we were little, Teddie and I were into board games. Very into. So competitive. We were obsessed with Risk, which is basically about?—”
“Conquering the world,” Luka interjects, with a grin. “I bet you were an adorable dictator.”
I snicker, because that comment is surprisingly funny. “I doubt Teddie would agree with you. I was more of a board thrower in those days. If I lost, watch out world.”
He cracks up, probably imagining nine-year-old me stomping her feet, which I did. And then, in a move that might have been natural or might have been calculated, his arm is on the booth right behind my shoulders.
I try not to act like I notice, tell my omega senses to stop purring that his arm is so close to draping around me.
Fuck.
Shuffling my feet, I scoot forward slightly to ensure I’m just out of reach, but that’s as far as my logic is able to control my rebellious body, which is at attention. My nipples are peaked behind my bra, and I cross my legs to try to hide the other things going on that I disapprove of.
“So, losing to him was a favorite memory? Or was there a time you won?” Luka’s tone is warm and soothing, and he’s acting like he didn’t notice my retreat from his touch at all.
Bastard.
Why can’t he just be cold and offended? Angry and demanding? I know it’s there in him—I see that side of him daily. But he’s being careful with me. Respectful.
I kind of want to slap him for it.
Grabbing my water and stirring the ice around with the straw, I say, “Yes. I’m definitely thinking of the day I beat him. I think we were ten. We were playing with a few of his friends, and I made a secret alliance with one to take him out. So we played the entire game, letting him think he was winning until we were the final three players. Then, boom! It was glorious. I put sticky notes on his bedroom door for weeks. ‘Sorry loser.’ ‘Second place isn’t so bad.’ Hehatedme.”
“Alphas don’t like to lose.”
“I’ve noticed. I think it’s good for them.”
His eyebrows rise. “Really? Do tell.”
Pushing my drink forward, I put my elbow on the table and twist slightly so that I lean toward him in the booth. “Alphas have the entire world bending the knee to them all the time. Omegas can’t even make eye contact with you all unless you initiate. It’s ridiculous. We’re so far under your thumb?—”
“Are you?” Luka leans an elbow onto the table, energy matching mine. “Or are we the ones who are under yours?”
I blow a raspberry. “That’s ridic?—”
“Do you know how close I came to killing a very good friend of mine last week because I saw his hands on you?” His growl is low enough that the room can’t hear his confession but loud enough for every word to shake my bones.
“What?”
“I’ve known Brock and his alphas for years. But you dancing with them?” He shakes his head. “If I didn’t think you’d be pissed about it, their heads would be floating in the river right now.”
“Please.”
His eyes burn ferociously into mine, and I see a bit of that smoldering anger that’s ever present in class. That barely contained rage. That feral energy that makes my omega side want to whimper and have him throw me into a nest and ravage me. I can’t breathe as he adds, “That’s how much power you have, Brylee.”
My eyes drop to the table, unable to sustain this level of intensity. I don’t want this. “That’s not true.”
