Page 35 of Knot for Me
“Why don’t we start with a run?” I say, turning to smile at her. “Five minutes?”
“Do we have to?” She stares at the treadmill with disdain, shoes dangling in her hand. She’s taking the no shoe rule very seriously. We’re not so crazy about shoes in the house that she can’t wear them at all. We simply prefer to have them off most of the time.
“It’s a good way to warm your body up.”
“Fine,” she says. She puts on her shoes, lacing them up tight before walking to the machine. She’s wearing a nice pair of sneakers—probably never done much fitness based on the condition—and she’s wearing a capri version of those dangerous leggings that show off every supple curve. When she hits the button and huffs, I realize I’ve been staring. I look ahead, gazing out of the floor to ceiling windows across the room and giving her space to ease into the workout. The gym is in the basement, but the backside of the mansion is a walkout, so part of the exterior is exposed, giving way to a gorgeous view of our property.
If I bombard her with questions now, she won’t be able to relax. I only make it a minute before I flick my gaze to her machine. My eyebrows hit my hairline when I see she’s going the same speed as me and going strong. Her face is set with determination, and she completely ignores me while she runs. I expected a slower pace from her, but I’m not complaining. Focusing on my own machine, I turn up the speed a little.
Her machine beeps three times, matching my pace.
I side-eye her, pressing the accelerator again.
She does too, not bothering to look at me.
Shaking my head, I grin and run with her until the five minutes are through. I hit the stop button, hopping off the treadmill. Reagan doesn’t stop, she slides her gaze to me and lifts an eyebrow.
“I’ll be done in about fifteen.”
“Okay,” I say with a nod, feeling a little dumb for stopping, but I can’t very well hop back on and start running again. Instead, I go grab my water bottle from the bench that sits along the wall and stretch. I’ve never claimed to have restraint. I end up glancing over to the cardio machines while I’m reaching for my toes. Reagan’s eyes are on me, and I can’t help but grin. She rolls her eyes and looks away, staring out of the windows instead of at me. I try not to pout, but it hurts. My ass is definitely prettier than the great outdoors.
When she finally finishes, a light sheen of sweat covers her body and she’s breathing heavily, but she’s not struggling for air. She’s in better shape than I thought. I should know better than to underestimate her. People have been doing that to me my whole life. I’m the funny guy, so what harm could I really be? It’s always good to see the looks of surprise when people find out I’m the one who doesn’t mind throwing hands.
“Feeling good?” I ask her.
She nods. “Yeah. Water?” She fixes her ponytail, undoing it and tying it up again.
Going to the minifridge over by the weight rack, I grab a bottle for her. “I thought maybe we’d start with basic self-defense. Have you ever trained?”
“I’m an omega. I’ve been in fights. Puberty hits hard.” She uncaps the water and takes a big drink.
I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “But no formal training?”
“No,” she admits with a shake of her head. “Just running and the occasional weightlifting.”
“Okay, come with me.” I gesture toward the mats on the other side of the cardio machines. Our gym is huge, but we usually have at least a handful of our people here working out at any given time. It’s nice to have the space to ourselves. I drop my water off to the side and Reagan does the same, rolling out her neck before joining me on the mats. They’re soft enough I can throw her around and know she’ll be protected.
“The biggest thing to remember is that I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m going to do some moves that may seem intense, but the best way to learn how to get out of a dangerous situation is to build up muscle memory. We’ll do some common holds and you can work on breaking out of them until your body instinctively knows what to do.”
“Do I need to be worried?” she asks, eyes finding mine. “If I’m part of your pack, I’m protected.”
I grimace. “You are, and we will defend you because you’re ours, but you’re an unmated omega. You know what that does to alphas.”
She scoffs. “It would be nice if they could learn some fucking restraint.”
“I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to be an omega, but knowing how my body reacts to omegas”—I shake my head—“it’s a battle to keep myself in control when the pheromones hit.” I clear my throat. “Like last night in the wine cellar? That was hell for me.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t do anything to me.”
“Not all alphas are going to be like the guys and me. Some don’t give a damn what you want, Reagan.”
She scowls at me. “I fucking hate being an omega.”
The vehemence in that simple statement shocks me into silence. I nod and walk around her, circling while I get my head in the right space to teach her what she needs to know to protect herself. She turns, keeping me in her sights while I study her stance. She’s nervous, but she’s anticipating my attack.
“I’m going to come at you from behind. This works best if you breathe and try not to guess what I’m going to do. Imagine you’re standing with friends.”
“Okay,” she says, giving me her back and dropping her hands at her sides. Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. When the tension slightly eases, I move.
