Page 8 of Knot Their Safe Haven
I point at him accusingly, watching that infuriating smirk spread across his face. He looks so much like Knox when he does that—all calculated charm and dangerous intelligence. But those eyes, those sharp features, the way he holds himself like the world owes him favors...that's all me.
The power of genetics.
He lifts his hands in mock surrender, eyes softening in that way that used to make me cave when he was small.Not anymore.Twenty-three years old with more power and money than most see in a lifetime, and he still thinks he can play his mother.
"To be fair, this is a public space. I'm allowed to be here."
The audacity makes my blood boil. I want to stomp over there and slap him upside his pretty head, remind him that all the success in the world doesn't mean he gets to disrespect boundaries. Especially not here.
Not around vulnerable Omegas who don't know he's my son.
The world can never know. It’s not because I’m not proud of what we somehow created, despite our situationship, but not with the enemies we've made.
Running a safe haven for Omegas, women vulnerable to a world that seeks to rip the carpet of power beneath their feet, means you start towering a lot of hate for preventing what should be claimed in their possessive minds. As for Knox, running a gym that has strict policies to protect Omegas also makes you an accomplice and enemy in their eyes.
"Icarus," Knox groans beside me, and I can hear twenty years of exhaustion in that single word. "You know this area is off-limits."
Our son—God, our son—gestures around the empty space with that casual arrogance he's perfected. I watch his nostrils flare slightly, and I know he's cataloging Astraea's scent. The way his pupils dilate, the slight tension in his shoulders...
No. Absolutely not. Not her.
"Is there any Omega here? No." He looks directly at me, and the wink he adds makes me want to throttle him. "You technically don't count."
This brat I’ve birthed.
I think that’s what rattles me deep down inside. To think I was blessed in creating such a powerful individual who has the confidence needed to fend of this chaotic world that wouldn’t hesitate to crush anyone who can’t take the heat.
Doesn’t mean I don’t discipline his ass when he’s being too cocky like his father.
"Let me beat him!"
The words are out before I can stop them, maternal fury mixing with protective rage.
Knox's arms wrap around my waist, lifting me clean off the ground as I struggle against his hold. I'm ready to show this cocky little shit exactly what happens when you disrespect the woman who brought you into this world, secret or not.
"Put me down, Knox!"
"Not until you calm down."
"I'll show him calm when my fist meets his?—"
Knox simply adjusts his grip and carries me out of the gym entirely, my threats echoing behind us.
"I'll slap the cockiness out of your existence, you little?—"
He doesn't set me down until we're in the hallway, well away from Icarus's amused chuckles.
The moment my feet touch the ground, I'm spinning to face Knox, ready to unleash my fury on him instead.
"See? We didn't do a good job raising that cocky fucker." I cross my arms, glaring up at him even as my heart races from the contact. Twenty years and he still affects me like this—his hands on my waist, his scent surrounding me, the heat of him so close.
What I don't expect is for his hands to cradle my face, or for his lips to crash into mine with a desperation that steals my breath.
The kiss is nothing like our usual careful dance—it's heated, possessive, years of want condensed into this single moment.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth and I can't help the moan that escapes, my hands fisting in his tank top.
This is dangerous. Anyone could see. Anyone could?—
