Page 65 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
And Noel. Standing there. Watching.
I can never face them again. Never. I’ll have to leave. Move to another state. Change my name. Become a hermit. But worse than the embarrassment is the creeping horror.
Kane was asleep. He couldn’t consent. And I just… I just…
Did I assault him?
The thought makes bile rise in my throat.
He was sleeping. I climbed into his bed. I initiated everything without asking, without making sure he was awake and willing.
What have I done?
There’s a knock at my door.
“Hannah?” Noel’s voice, muffled but clear. “You okay in there? Want to talk?”
“Go away!” I yell into the pillow.
A low chuckle. “If it’s any consolation, Kane is thrilled. Says it was the best sex he’s had in years. Though he’s a little bitter that you wouldn’t let him finish.”
“That’s not funny!” I’m never leaving this room. Never. “That’s not—I can’t—just go away!”
“Hannah—”
“Noel, please.” My voice cracks. “I need to die of embarrassment in private.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I just had sex with your packmate, thinking he was you! How is that not the most mortifying thing that’s ever happened to anyone?”
“To be fair, we do all use the same diffuser oil. Easy mistake.”
“That doesn’t make it better!”
There’s a pause. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Kane’s not upset. Hell, he’s probably the happiest he’s been in months. And I’m…” Another pause. “Well, I’m jealous as hell, but that’s not your fault.”
I press my face harder into the pillow, wishing I could suffocate myself.
“You’re going to have to eventually face us.”
“Then I’ll leave. First thing tomorrow. Go back to Lily’s. This was a mistake.”
“Hannah—”
“Please.” I’m begging now, and I don’t care about pride. “Just give me tonight. Let me process this. We can talk tomorrow. Or never. Preferably never.”
A long silence.
“Okay. But you’re not leaving. We’ll figure this out. And, Hannah? You’re welcome here. Always. No matter what.”
His footsteps retreat from my room, and I’m alone with my humiliation.
I burrow deeper into the pillows, pulling the comforter over my head, creating a cocoon of shame.
Somewhere down the hall, I hear muffled voices. Laughter. They’re definitely talking about me. About the crazy Omega who can’t tell one Alpha from another. I groan into the pillow and pull the blanket tighter.
Tomorrow. I’ll deal with this tomorrow.
