Page 55 of Their Knotty Pack
Especially when that involves her putting her arm around my back like she could actually support any of my weight should I suddenly collapse. I'll have to make sure to lean in the other direction if I do happen to pass out.
Fuck. Am I going to need stitches?
We fumble down the hall to her nest, and when she pushes the door open, my jaw nearly drops. Blue of every shade—the navy of the bedding, which is obviously Miles' influence, to the lightest of blue throw pillows which match Bethany's eyes perfectly. Heavy curtains cover the windows, but soft, twinkling lights are strung up around the room, as well as on the frame of the nest mattress. A few potted plants hang from the ceiling, and more line small shelves on the walls.
It's like walking into an evening sky.
The bathroom door is open, the humidity in the air a stark reminder that Miles was in here not too long ago.
Bethany guides me to the bed, and my senses go into overdrive. I may not be an alpha, but my sense of smell is finely tuned to my omegas and I can't ignore the way raspberry, blueberry, dark chocolate and hibiscus swirl around me as she disappears into the attached bathroom.
Down boy, I adjust my cock in my pants with my free hand as I watch bright eyes flip through the cabinets.
I can't believe that I had gone so long without knowing what Miles'smelledlike. Damn scent-blocker policy at work. One whiff of him at the beginning of Bethany's heat was life-altering.
It wasn't just the smell, either.
I'm not gonna lie, when Brody, Kieran and I entered that heat suite and I was met face to face with the omega I've been dreaming about the last three years, I was shocked—in the best way. But then, when he moved aside and revealed the delicious, curvy, dark haired goddess? And we were scent-matched tobothof them? The way they looked together during her heat? Gods, it was the best five days of my life.
Even now, with blood dripping into my eye and the spot where the door hit me throbbing like motherfucker, I can't keep my eyes off her. Her strands of hair falling into her face. Her pouty lipspursing as she searches for the first aid kit. The way her ass curves as she bends over—
"Got it!" She calls out, holding up the little box and coming over to me. She has a wet rag in her other hand, and I hiss as she pulls away the towel to clean up the blood. "Sorry," she winces, "I'll try to make this quick."
Not too quick, I hope, considering with the way she's bending over in front of me, I can catch a glimpse of the tops of her perky, round—
"Shit!" I nearly jump as she presses a small, cold wipe to my forehead. That burns.
Can a man not finish a lewd thought around here?
"Huh." She looks at me for a second, "That sure was bleeding a lot from such a tiny cut."
Tiny? There's no way this thing can be tiny. It hurts like a bitch and there was more blood than I've seen from a cut.
Plus, she'll think I'm weak if that's the case.
Frowning, I take out my phone and open the front-facing camera. Geez. It'll bruise, that's for sure. But the actual cut? It's about the length of half my thumbnail. No stitches required.
Smiling softly, she pulls a butterfly bandage out of its wrapping and gently places it on my forehead, pulling the skin together.
"There," she says quietly, more to herself than to me, "that should hold just fine." Her eyes are sad, and I can't say I like that. In fact, I think I might hate it.
"Do you think it'll scar?" I ask, trying to make her laugh as I arch a brow. "I think I'd look kind of sexy with a scar."
Only, she doesn't laugh.
No. Instead, she stands, covering her mortified expression with her hands. "Oh, no. Oh my gods, first, I put you in pain, and then…what if itdoesscar? You'll hate me every time you look at it, not to mention I'll never hear the end of it from Kieran—andHunter.What if he thinks I'm trying to maul you all, one-by-one—? First I bite Kieran, then I slam a door into your head—"
"Bethany," suddenly, I'm on my feet, grabbing her hands and pulling them away from her face, "hey, it's okay, bright eyes. I doubt it'll scar. And even if it does, I won't hate you every time I look at it, I'll be reminded of our first one-on-one conversation that held any sort of meaning."
The pain in my head fades to the background as I take her face. She really does look like a nymph. Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she sniffs. "You…you mean that?"
"Of course I do," I murmur, feeling entirely too bare and vulnerable with my emotions, but maybe that's what she needs from me to see that I'm serious.
"You could have just asked to spend time with me," she whispers, looking up into my eyes. "I like you better like this, not hiding under that mask of bravado."
I know I'm a flirt. Always have been. It's just how I am. Life can't hurt you if you never take it too seriously, right? But…Bethany deserves to have me take her seriously.
My hands tighten around hers as I bring them to my chest, my heart beating rapidly. "There really is no fooling you, is there?"
