Page 30 of Knotted By the Demon
“We need your scent, big guy. It makes us feel... safe.” She glanced at me, and I knew she meant that it made me feel safe, made my omega feel safe. I gave a slight nod. There was that purr again, rumbling through Demon’s chest, easing some of the tension and fear from my body.
“Okay,” he said. “Take care of him,” he told Sofia, though his intense gaze was on me.
“Don’t worry. I’ll watch over him. Stay close in case I need to call you,” she said.
He nodded before turning and leaving the room, but not before casting a look back at us. The look in his eyes said he wanted to stay. He left the room, gently closing the door behind him. Sofia turned to me.
“Tell me what I can do to make you more comfortable, Greek.”
I fiddled with the hem of my boxers.Comfortable. I didn’t know what I needed to be more comfortable. How could I notknow what I needed?Her. I needed her here. She was already here. So... what now? I swallowed.
“Is it the stall?” she asked.
I didn’t want to answer. It was embarrassing. But she was here with me. She was hereforme. I had to answer.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Is it all small spaces?”
I shook my head. “Only when I’m closed into those small spaces.”
“Like closets, pantries...”
“And sheds,” I added.
Anger flashed in her eyes. I almost recoiled until she said...
“One day, when you feel I’m worthy of hearing it, you’re going to tell me your story and tell me who hurt you. And then I’m going to find those fuckers and gut them like fish. But for now, I’m going to get into that stall. You join me when you’re ready. And if you’re not ready, I’ll give you a sponge bath. You never have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. None of us do. Now, close your eyes if my nakedness is a problem for you.”
I watched in awe as she began to undress. This woman... this beautiful beta with a heart so big that it made me feel small when she was near, had just stolen my heart and my soul. I was hers. And I prayed she never let me go.
CHAPTER TWELVE
GREEK
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Sofia stood before me, her hands moving with deliberate ease as she removed her shirt. My mouth dried as the fabric slid from her body, revealing smooth, creamy skin that begged to be touched, kissed, and worshipped. Each piece of clothing she removed left me more breathless, my boxers growing unbearably tight as my body reacted to the sight of her.
Her curves were a masterpiece, delicate yet toned, perfect in every way. Though she was undressing like it was nothing, I noted the way her gaze kept drifting to and from mine, gauging my reaction. The way she moved, confident but not without vulnerability, made my omega purr in approval.
Her fiery hair cascaded over her shoulders, loose and wild, framing her face like a halo of flames. She was a goddess, standing there as if she were oblivious to the storm she was stirring inside me. She opened the shower stall and turned the knob.
“I’ll let the water warm up,” she told me.
All I could do was nod. I watched as she strode over to the counter, where the sink was, my eyes following her every movement. She grabbed a towel from underneath it, bendingover to do so. She was turned to the side, but the silhouette of her body was beautiful.
Clutching two towels, she returned to the shower and stepped into the stall, pulling the door shut behind her. With her back to me, she stretched her arm up, draping one towel over the neck of the showerhead so that it wouldn’t get wet. As she did so, I got a view of her backside. I thought my knees might give out. Her ass was perfection.
My fingers itched to touch her, to trace every curve, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath my palms. The glass didn’t obscure her, and for that, I was thankful. If it had, I might have lost what was left of my fragile self-control and ripped the door off its hinges. Nothing—no barrier, no shred of plastic or plexiglass—was going to keep me from seeing her like this, naked and exposed, every inch of her searing into my memory.
Sofia turned the knob, increasing the amount of water that fell, then stepped under its spray. The sound of the water cascading from the showerhead filled the room, drowning out the erratic beat of my heart. She gasped, her head tilting back as the warm stream hit her body, her hair darkening and sticking to her skin.
I’d never been jealous of hair before. Not until today. Not until this moment. Not until Sofia. She grabbed the bar of soap and lathered her towel, then began bathing. My breath caught as I watched the droplets race down her neck, pooling in the hollow of her throat before sliding lower. Steam rose quickly, curling around her like a lover’s embrace.
It blurred the edges of the glass, but not enough to hide the way the water glistened on her skin, catching the light. Each droplet seemed to cling to her curves, accentuating the fullness of her breasts, the soft dip of her waist, the flare of her hips. The ache in my chest became unbearable.
My omega was stirring, restless, clawing at me, demanding I act. My scent spiked, betraying my desire, but I couldn’t find it in me to be ashamed. Why should I? Sofia was amazing. How could I not crave her? My shame could go to Hell. All I could focus on was her—her beauty, her grace, the way she stood there as if she didn’t know she was driving me mad.
