Page 32 of Ruin Me Knot
I know I should eat, to provide strength for what’s to come more than anything else, but that’s too much effort. Something else more urgent scratches under the surface.
Gabriel settles into the rug, legs stretched out, trying to catch my gaze. "Would you like me to run a bath for you, Leah?"
Blank confusion swims in my head. I don’t answer. I don’t know how. Is this another trick? Another excuse to punish me if I choose something wrong? But he just smiles, and a dimple presses into his cheek. "I’ll get a bath ready, if you like. Doesn’t have to be now," he adds, shrugging like it’s nothing.
Ronan stands, gathering the empty bowls. He leans in and nods at my untouched soup. "I’ll leave yours here, just in case."
As he moves the aroma of our combined scents wafts over the soup. My slick, thick and heavy with the fullness of my arousal and the deep musky notes of his cum woven through the fabric of his denim.
He’s still wearing the same jeans I slicked all over when I orgasmed in his lap, the evidence of what happened between us soaked deep into every seam. My gut knots because I’ve made a mess.
The guards at the facility ridiculed me for it even though I couldn’t control it. I shrink inward, arms tightening around myself, but Ronan doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t look down at himself, doesn’t break the easy calm around me. He justcarries the empty bowls away, leaving me with our scents braided through the air as the fever prickles back to life.
My nerves twist and I know blind arousal will claim me soon enough. I press my thighs together, need humming up my spine. I want…something. Gods, Iwant,but the shape of it is a blur, and confusion and fear knot everything inside into one long, tangled ache. I can’t tell what’s hunger, what’s heat, what’s exhaustion, what’s desperation. I’m unspooling in a place where nothing makes any kind of sense.
A couch pillow appears in my line of sight. The emerald color snatches my attention, the satin gleaming in the soft light. Jax holds it out, big hands bracing the fabric, his expression open, just a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "Is this what you’re looking for?" His smile is slow, warm, nothing but a genuine offer.
A lightning jolt of surprise shoots through me. This isexactlywhat I want. Something soft to hug and anchor me, as stupid as it sounds. I move before sense catches up, taking the pillow from him and then I tense, waiting for the trap. Butnothing comes.
A restless craving for more softness grows, a longing to burrow into something until the world goes quiet. I want—need—anything I can pull around me. Blankets, pillows. I want them so bad ithurts. I clench my fingers so hard my nails dig into the heel of my hand.
I’ve been here so many times before, hating this compulsion for anything soft. I was young, in Haven’s basement, when I learned that was bad. That I couldn’t have what my instincts screamed for, but I was so cold. Every part of me ached for warmth and softness, so I’d gathered every scrap of clothing I could find and piled it all around me, just so I could feel halfway safe.
It was dark. Nighttime. But Lars still found me. He plucked my nest away one piece at a time and let the chill creep back in. His shoes crunched on old tile. "Omegas like you don’t get nests."
I panicked and made the mistake of holding onto a frayed scarf Mom had knitted for me. "Please. Let me keep this. Just this one thing." Famous fucking last words they were.
He yanked the scarf out of my grip and slapped me so hard my ears rang. "Stupid Omega. Don’t you know that nothing is yours?"
He took everything out of my room and made me kneel for hours on my knees, arms stretched above my head until my shoulders screamed, and I shook with the strain. If I lowered my arms, he lashed my back with his belt until I lost consciousness from the torment.
I never saw my scarf again. I never had another mattress at Haven. Or a blanket. The softest thing I lay on every night was concrete. The old memories echo, tightening my chest as I sit on plush carpet yearning for softness I dare not reach for. As though, through the memory, my brain takes in the pillows, throw rugs and other soft things piled on the couch behind me. I grip the single cushion Jax gave me, trying so hard to stick to the rules.
Jax leans forward, voice soft, brow creased with worry. "What are you saying, Leah? What rules?"
I clamp my mouth shut, realizing I must have been speaking out loud. But if I tell him, he’ll punish me. But he asked me a question, and he’ll expect an answer. But if I answer him and he doesn't like what I tell him, what will he do? I shouldn’t say anything. I shouldn’t.
He waits, quiet and patient. "What are the rules, Sunshine? You can tell me. I promise I won’t yell or make you uncomfortable. I’d like to know so I can help you."
Help me? I’m well past help. I curl tighter around the pillow he gave me, but the fragments spill out anyway because what choice do I really have? None. That’s the point. Regardless of what I tell him, he’ll do whatever the fuck he wants because he bigger. Stronger. And there’s nothing stopping him.
"No nests. No softness. Omegas don’t get things. Not unless they’re good, and good Omegas never break rules." My voice trails off, because I was never good.
Jax folds his big frame so he’s eye-level with me. "What happens if you break a rule?"
Heat seeps over my skin, but I swear I can still feel the old cold at Haven, the bite of concrete on my knees. I flicker between fever in this living room and numbnessin that cell, never sure which belongs to me. The words are jammed in my throat, cutting and jagged. They hurt while they sit there and scrape my throat raw, but I must answer because an Alpha asked, so I push them out.
"Kneel on concrete. Arms up and over my head. I’m not allowed to cry. Or make a sound. Just take my punishment. An Alpha can lash me if I’m bad and I have to start again."
A small voice in me says this is the moment everything goes wrong. That now I’ve told him, he’ll enforce the rules just like I knew they would. I dig my nails into the cushion, face burning while I wait for his bark I can’t deny.
Jax’s gaze turns fierce, but his voice stays hush and steady. "There’s no more punishment, Leah. None of that. You’re not bad. You never were. You don’t have to be scared in this house. You want a nest, you make a nest. You want soft things, you get all of them." He grabs another cushion off the pile and extends it to me, but I can’t bring myself to take it.
"I’ll put it here then." He slides the cushion onto the couch. I follow where he places the cushion, but I can’t tear my eyes away. It’s not where it’s meant to be. The wrongness of it gnaws at me, a tiny, gnashing thing. The urge to move it is a twist under my ribs.
Jax smiles, voice rumbling quiet and low. "Don’t like where it is, Omega?"
My gaze flashes back to him. I can’t tell him the position is wrong. Can’t because then…
