Page 16 of Knotted By the Demon
“How are you even more beautiful when you laugh?” a soft voice spoke up.
My laughter died on my lips, the omega’s words catching me off guard. My gaze returned to him.
His cheeks flushed a delicate pink as he seemed to realize what he'd said. "I'm... I... I'm sorry... I," he stammered, looking away, embarrassment etched across his features.
I shook my head, offering a gentle smile even as my pulse raced. "Don't worry. It's okay," I reassured him, keeping my voice warm and soft. I wanted to ease his nerves, though inside, I was practically giddy. A gorgeous omega had called mebeautiful.Me. A beta.Seriously, was I the only normal-acting person in this cabin?
Rogue alphas didn't hand-feed betas or nearly break their ankles trying to get food for wounded omegas. And omegas didn't call betas beautiful or stare at them like they wanted to touch them. If I didn't know better, I'd swear I was dreaming. Too bad my hands were still bound, or I'd have pinched myself to verify.
"Thank you for the compliment," I said softly, tilting my head to study him. The morning light softened his delicate but strong features, highlighting the silver of his eyes. "Though I think you might have that backward. You're the beautiful one."
He shook his head slowly, his silver eyes closing as if to hide from my words. The gesture was so pained, so vulnerable, that it made my chest ache. For a long moment, silence hung between us, heavy and charged.
"I've never wanted to be beautiful," he finally whispered, his voice so low I almost missed it.
The raw hurt in those few words hit me like a physical blow. I could hear the deep-seated pain behind his confession, could sense the heavy burden he carried. Whatever had put him in this state – bruised, battered, and filled with self-loathing – had left scars far deeper than the visible ones on his skin.
My chest tightened painfully as a quiet fury began to simmer beneath my skin. Who had done this to him? Who had made this lovely creature feel that his beauty was something to be ashamed of, something to despise? I wanted to curse, to lash out, to hit something.
The urge to protect him, to shelter him from whatever had hurt him so profoundly, was almost overwhelming. But I didn't want to startle him with any sudden movements or harsh words. And, of course, I was still restrained. Instead, I reined in mytemper, forcing my voice to remain soft and calm when I spoke to him again.
The omega's silvery eyes brimmed with unshed tears as I spoke, my words seeming to pierce through the protective shell he'd built around himself. His pain was a tangible thing, radiating from him in waves. No one should have to carry around that much pain.
"You know, beauty isn't something that has to define you," I said softly, holding his gaze. "It doesn't determine your worth. It doesn't make you deserving of being cherished or mistreated. It doesn't make you weak, and it doesn't make you strong." I paused, watching the subtle shifts in his expression.
His brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion passing over his delicate yet handsome features.
"It's more of a decoration. Something nice to look at, but it has no sustenance," I continued. "It’s like a beautifully wrapped Christmas gift. Yeah, the wrapping is gorgeous and gets you excited, but the true gift is what’s inside. Get it? What's important is who you are on the inside. It's how you treat others, those weaker than you and those stronger than you."
His breath caught, and I sensed I was getting through to him. My heart raced, desperate to reach whatever part of him was hurting.
"Yeah, you're beautiful. But that's just one part of you, a small part of you. I can already tell that you're a good person, and you're strong."
"I'm not strong," he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The rawness in those three words made my chest constrict. I wanted nothing more than to wrap him in my arms, to shield him from whatever demons plagued him. But I knew words were all I had to offer right now.
"You're alive," I reminded him gently. "That means you haven't given up. That requires strength."
His eyes closed, shuttering away the storm of emotions I'd glimpsed. A sarcastic chuckle escaped his lips, devoid of any real humor.
"Living doesn't require strength," he said. "Dying does."
His words left me staring at him with my lips parted in shock. This poor omega. My heart broke for him. I wanted to hug him close, to offer some of my warmth to him. I wanted desperately to protect him. But how do you protect someone from their own thoughts?
“I don’t know you,” I continued. “I don’t know your past. I don’t know what haunts you. But you’ve been given a second chance. You survived, and now you’re free to start again. Before you can officially start again, you first need to heal. To get stronger, physically and mentally. That takes time. That’s not something that should be rushed. But once you’re ready, you get to decide what to do with your second chance. If you need help along the way, I’m willing to help.”
"Why?" he suddenly asked, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Because I'm an omega? Because I smell sweet?"
His scoff cut through me, but I didn't let it show. Instead, I met his gaze, willing him to see the sincerity in my eyes.
"Nope," I told him, keeping my voice firm but gentle. "I'll help because if our roles were reversed, I hope you'd help me. I wish this world was full of people who helped others when they needed a hand."
He fell silent, his eyes slowly drifting open. In those stormy depths, I saw a flicker of something – not quite hope, but perhaps a lessening of despair. I decided to press on.
"Just so you know, the people who hurt you are the real cowards. Not you."
I felt a lump forming in my throat as he returned his gaze to me, moving slowly as if every motion pained him. My breath caught as I saw unshed tears shimmering in his striking eyes.For a moment, he simply looked at me, his expression raw and vulnerable. In those silver depths, I caught a glimmer of something close to hope, fragile but unmistakable.
