Page 17 of Down Knot Out
When I slip into the kitchen with the empty picnic basket, I find it empty. Holden must be off with Quinn somewhere, or up in the office above the garage with Dominic. Maybe they’re all together, off on one of Quinn’s little adventures.
Humming to myself, I wash the food containers and put them in the drying rack. Warmth still flushes my cheeks, and I’m sure I have sand in my hair. I should shower, but I want a few more hours with Nathaniel’s scent on my skin.
As I climb the stairs to my room, each step reminds me of tender muscles and the phantom pressures where Nathaniel’s body connected with mine. Beach sex might need to be featured in the new trilogy. That was some good, steamy fodder for my imagination.
When I push open my bedroom door, the familiar space still takes my breath away. The guys put so much work into transforming this part of the Homestead into my personal refuge, filling the shelves with personal items and giving me my dream canopy bed.
I slip out of Nathaniel’s jacket and hang it in the closet before moving to my desk. Afternoon light filters through the sheer curtains, illuminating thesingle lily that rests on my closed laptop, sitting on top of a small stack of mail.
Warmth fills me. Did Nathaniel bribe Kyle to put it here for me to find after our picnic? My sneaky, soft-hearted Alpha put a lot of planning into today.
The lily’s creamy white petals hold a faint pink at their edges, like they’ve been swirled in blush. I lift it to my nose. Its scent mingles with my own lily-and-lilac pheromones, and I remember how Nathaniel murmured about expanding the garden.
Humming, I return to my closet and assess my growing collection of vases. I’ve gathered quite a few since arriving at the Homestead two months ago.
I select a cobalt blue glass with a slender neck and fill it in the bathroom before I place the lily inside. Settling into my office chair, I place the vase in the corner by the window and arrange the stem so the flower faces the sunlight.
I flip through the envelopes and flyers on my desk, forwarded from my apartment, and pause on a single cream-colored envelope that sticks out from the rest. It feels thick and expensive, my name written across the front in elegant calligraphy that I recognize, and my stomach swoops, all those warm tingles doused in an instant.
The Sinclair pack insignia—a rose with thorns wrapped around a crescent moon—is stamped on the back flap. My father’s pack.Mypack, according to the email I received from the Omega Registration Office.
No one but the Omega is supposed to receive details unless the Omega signs off on it. Alphas only receive aNo Conflictnotice for courtship, and the only way my father would be alerted is if I petitioned for genetic matches.
Which I didn’t do. I’m still not sure Iwantconfirmation that the man who rejected me was my father all along, and he never bothered to double-check before kicking me out like yesterday’s trash.
But it shouldn’t surprise me that he’d be made aware, regardless. Laws don’t matter for people like Augustus Sinclair.
I trace the seal with one finger. I could ignore it, the way he ignored all my phone calls and text messages. I could pretend it never arrived, burn it in the small fireplace in the common room, or return it unopened.
But curiosity has always been my kryptonite.
I slide my thumb under the flap, popping the envelope open. Inside, I find a single sheet of heavy paper, folded in thirds. Trepidation fills me as I unfold it and smooth it flat on the desk.
Ms. Chloe Richardson,
It has come to the attention of the Sinclair Pack Council that you have failed to respond to multiple summonses regarding your standing within the pack hierarchy…
I skim the rest, phrases jumping out at me.
Responsibilities to lineage.
Deadline for response.
And finally, the part that makes my blood run cold.Observation reports indicate involvement with multiple Alphas outside sanctioned pack arrangements.
They’ve been watching me. Of course, they have. And now that I’m a real Sinclair again, they think they have a say in my life?
I should have burned the damn letter.
My hand trembles as I set it down and grab my lucky troll doll, swishing its vibrant blue hair against my cheek. Luck has never been on my side, but I managed to find my way to this place, to these Alphas. The question now is whether I’ll be allowed to keep them.
The past and the present used to be an uncrossable chasm, but now it’s folding inward, thejagged edges trying to slot together in a puzzle never meant to join.
Did I fly too high with my author career? Did I get too close to the sun when I stumbled onto the pack Alphas of Misty Pines?
After everything I’ve been through, why can’t I be allowed happiness?
Chapter Six
