Page 90 of Knot What She Seems
Ugh.
I think I prefer “obsession.”
Actually, I prefer neither. Yup. It’s definitely that.
“I just want to watch you eat and drink! But not in a creepy way, I promise! Though if you give me permission, I’ll totally film you and then screenshot different moments to choose between for my phone’s new screensaver.”
I snort before I can stop myself. Kylian really shouldn’t be as endearing as he is. It’s not fair when I’m trying to push him away.
“Come on, boo boo. I climbed all the way up here?—”
I pull the curtains shut.
There’s a beat of silence, and then I hear Kylian say, “At least moan while you eat, okay? Again, not for creepy reasons.”
I cover my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
Damn him for making me laugh.
Damn him for being considerate and bringing me my favorite drink and sandwich.
Damn him for being my scent match.
Just…damn him.
These alphas are weakening my resolve one word at a time. I’m afraid of what will happen if the defenses I worked so hard to fortify crumble around me.
I’m not sure I can survive another alpha group.
And I’m also not sure I’ll even have a choice in the matter.
31
BRYLEE
The laundromatthat my phone claimed was just a five-minute walk down the road is actually 8.5 million steps uphill. And while I’ve been working out and running, I’ve focused on agility and fighting, not long-term trekking with eighty pounds on my back. I’m sweating under the midday sun and breathing like an angry gorilla by the time I arrive.
Even my skin suit doesn’t weigh half as much as this, I grumble before mentally chastising myself for sounding like a serial killer.
Maybe I should have called a service to wash and fold my clothes. But even if I could send out all my stuff, I’d still have all my brother’s clothes to deal with. This will be easier. Midday, most people will be at work and nobody will have to witness my shenanigans.
Unless I collapse right here, right now.
Then there will be a ton of witnesses and a lot of dirty underwear all over the place.
My back screams as I reach for the glass door on the hole-in-the-wall laundromat that’s smack in the middle of a strip mall that’s seen better days.
An ache zings up my spine that makes me stiffen in pain. I might need to make an appointment for a massage tomorrow.
That actually sounds glorious.
I’m mentally adding massage to my to-do list as I scan the small, nondescript space that is old but clean before nodding at the sole other occupant, an elderly omega woman with curly white hair and coke-bottle glasses. She nods back, and then we both go about our business as if her lacy underthings aren’t currently on the giant folding table that splits the room in half. A detergent machine, vending machine, and a few ancient arcade games are tucked into the corner behind her.
Squatting down in my running shorts, I fill one machine with all of Teddie’s clothes and get it running and have just begun the excavation dig through my own pants pockets when a bell tinkles to announce the front door is opening.
I don’t look up, not until footsteps grow closer and a shadow falls across my face.
Uh-oh.
