Page 19 of Knot Their Boo
Oh, hell… not up there…
Memories of being a stupid teenager flood my head as I breathe in his scent. The feeling of his body against mine only messes with my mind further. I took him up here once, which is how he knows where the bathroom is.
Hopefully, his alpha instinct to protect me is so powerful right now that he isn’t thinking about that night…
The blanket we laid out on the floor, or the pillows we used to build a small nest. Or the way he laid me down, and kissed me so fucking sweetly. How many times had I kissed Taron before that night? But somehow that felt like the first time he really kissed me.
“Control your thoughts, Sable. Your scent is begging me to fuck you. Fill you with my knot. Who was your first knot, by the way?” Taron asks, as he pushes one door after another open, before setting me on the bathroom sink. Fucking hell, this man and his dirty words. He’s the one that got us into this mess, talking like that.
He’s laser-focused on his task as he lifts my leg and inspects my wounds. Most of them are superficial, but a few have blood welling up under the glitter of shattered glass. The sight of the blood makes me whimper, stealing away all thoughts of his knot.
I am such a huge wimp when it comes to pain, and his gaze snaps up, meeting mine. His eyes are so filled with so much concern for me that it halts my breath, almost making me forget the pain that's setting in.
“That's a lot of blood,” I murmur, still staring into his beautiful hazel eyes.
“Come on, Sable, who was your first knot? Or did you forget the promises you made the first time you brought me up here?” Taron asks as he gently lowers my leg and starts digging out supplies.
“Never taken a knot, Taron,” I hiss, squeezing my eyes shut. I’m feeling woozy, but I bite my tongue to distract myself. I will not pass out like a big baby who can’t handle a little cut. He doesn’t say anything about my admission though.
“I’m going to have to dig the glass out, Sable. You need to breathe,” he says more gently than I expected from him. “Would it help if I took my shirt off?” he teases, and I open my eyes long enough to shoot him a glare as he wiggles his brows at me.
“I hate you,” I grunt.
“Not what you said six years ago, baby. Or did you already forget? Because I never did.” He softly grabs my calf, lifting my leg, careful to keep my dress off the ruined skin. I wince because I am seriously such a wimp, and stare up at the ceiling.
“I remember what I said, Taron. I was eighteen and stupid,” I growl through gritted teeth as he pours alcohol over the wounds, after slipping my shoe off. “Oh, fuck me!”
“Okay, if you insist,” he says, and I risk looking down to shoot him another glare. “Just let me fix you up first, then my cock is all yours–”
“I will stab you, Taron. I swear I will.” It’s an empty threat, and based on the shit eating grin he sends me, we both know it. My scent gives me away, as his words sink into my chest and grip my lungs tight. Fuck.My cock is all yours…who says that?
“Whatever makes you happy, Little Ghost.” He turns his attention back to my leg, and I watch, unable to look away this time, as he uses a pair of tweezers to pull out a shard of glass from my ankle.
“It would make me happy if you stopped talking,” I grunt, gripping the edge of the sink as I try to breathe through the pain.
“Lie. You love the way my voice sounds. Especially when I’m saying your name as I cum.” He’s focused on cleaning my wounds, but his tone is so fucking confident that I want to bite him.
“You infuriate me…” I hiss as he tugs another shard free.
“Love and hate share the same line, baby. I bet you’re just one knot away from marking me with those omega fangs,” Taron taunts, reminding me of the temporary omega bond I gave him, a desperate attempt to keep him in my life. One I still regret to this day. It made everything so much worse. Made our pain so much more intense. I swallow thickly, thankful the thorny neck tattoos hide any scars I might have left behind. At least one of us had enough self-control not to complete the bond.
“You’re the one who cut me off after I moved, Taron. Are you going to punish me for leaving forever?” I ask, my voice cracking from the pain, and maybe a little bit from frustration.
“No, Sable. I was never punishing you, I was just heartbroken that the only girl I’ve ever loved didn’t want me anymore.” His tone is soft and serious, but his hands are firm and sure as he pulls out another piece of glass before looking up and meeting my eyes. He catches the way I stare at his neck and smirks.
“I never said that, you just assumed that my leaving meant I didn’t want you. I begged you to answer the fucking phone for months after I left. If anyone should be punished here, it's you, you fucking alpha-hole!” I snap, my voice breaking as tears fall freely now making me angry. “Did you ever think that maybe leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and losing you broke my fucking heart too? You made me feel alive. Loved. And then you were gone and left behind nothing but pain,” I sob, cracking like cheap porcelain on concrete. He pauses for a second, taking in my tear-streaked face, and frowns.
“I wasn’t enough for you. How could I break your heart when you never really wanted me?” he asks, his voice an aching sound of still bleeding wounds. He shakes his head before placing a Band-Aid over the last wound, turning back to look at me with glassy eyes. Seeing him brought to tears breaks something in me.
Or maybe it just rips open a six-year-old wound that never healed.
I want to pull him into my arms and soothe all the hurt. I want him to make love to me while we repair all the damage between us. I want him. Heaven help me, I have always wanted this damn man.
“That's not true,” I whisper, swiping away the tears.
“Fucking hero…” Taron growls under his breath, turning away from me and facing the bathroom door. I frown, completely confused, until I hear him. Colter… What magnificent timing. I sniff, swiping at the last of my tears, and fight to compose myself. “We’re not done here, Ghost. Not by a long shot.”
“Sable!” Colter roars. Yes, fucking roars like a damn lion as his thundering steps pound up the stairs. “What the fuck, are you okay?” he asks in a rush as he bursts into the small space, forcing Taron further into the small bathroom.
