Page 8 of Knot Your Damsel
Also, why are we inhisbedroom for that?
I’m pretty sure a place like his has plenty of guest bedrooms for us to use.
Or, you know, some hose in a hole in the ground where he usually stores his captives…
But I keep the question to myself. I’m in no state to try to protect myself in case I accidentally offend him, and neither is Caleb.
“Thank you.” Caleb’s voice is low, careful. “We appreciate that.”
He’s using his polite voice, the one he only really uses when he knows he’s dealing with clients with a volatile temper, or people he doesn’t want to set off.
Mr Page narrows his eyes at him, stepping forward, then he seems to reconsider what he was about to do and steps to the side instead, a polite smile on his face.
“You’ll find everything you’ll need inside. There are towels on the rack and I’ll have someone bring you clean robes.” He looks us up and down, his eyes less indifferent than before, lingering on us a tad longer than strictly needed, making me squirm and my pheromones flare.
His eyes darken and he clears his throat. “Since I’m fairly sure I don’t have anything else in your size.”
“Thanks.” I pull Caleb’s arm over my shoulders again and help him walk to the bathroom. He’s starting to hobble more and more. I really need to check out the cut on his foot, clean it out before it gets infected.
“I’ll be right back. Feel free to use the shower, take a bath, maybe even use the sauna. Anything you like.” Mr Page steps away from the door, and after one last look at us, he leaves the bedroom, leaving us behind on our own.
The moment the door closes behind him, Caleb has me in his arms, his nose in my neck as he breathes in strongly, taking in my pheromones. I let them flow as I take in his, finally calming down as I surround myself with his deep forest-y scent.
My tears start flowing and Caleb lowers us to the floor, keeping me cradled against him, letting out a low soothing rumble.
It’s the same thing he did when he saved me from my ill-fated wedding.
I’d been refusing to eat for weeks before my wedding, ever since the man in charge of my parents’ pack told me that I was going to marry Hubert Russell, the most vile man that I knew, become his pack’s fourth Omega. I’d hoped to die before the day came, but they force-fed me enough to keep me alive, even if barely.
Then, when my family finally managed to wrap that ridiculous dress around me —even more ridiculous because I was barely a skeleton by then and it was one of those massive princess dresses— Hubert dragged me out of the house and tried to force me into his car.
I had to hold my breath every time he was near, his pheromones were so revolting, though the rest of the pack didn’t seem to notice it.
And then, just as Hubert was about to shove me in one last time, his hands suddenly disappeared. He was pulled aside, thrown to the ground, and I was picked up in strong arms, surrounded by the scent of the deep forest, and carried away. Carried away from my family, from the man I was supposed to marry, carried away from everything I’d ever known.
We sat in Caleb’s massive truck, me in his lap, and he surrounded me withhim, with his scent, with his sound, with his body.
I have no idea how long we sat there, listening to each other, wrapped around each other, learning each other’s scents.
They were the most amazing moments of my life up until that point.
And I’d never felt safer.
Surrounded by the scent of motor oil, garage and forest, I felt safe for the first time in my life.
It must have looked so silly. Him in his coveralls, stained with grease and other things, and me in my pristine white wedding dress.
But it was the first time I felt happy and safe.
Caleb is my Alpha, my protector, my safety. From the first moment I met him, I knew he was mine and I was his, forever.
Once we both calmed down, he stripped his coveralls to his waist, took off his t-shirt and gave it to me.
I slid out of the now stained wedding dress, dumped it out of the window and put his shirt on. It was way too big on me, more a dress than a shirt, full of holes and covered in his sweat, but it immediately became my favourite piece of clothing.
Of course, you don’t simply leave a guy like Hubert.
The moment he realised what had happened, and had recovered from the shame of his bride getting kidnapped on his wedding day, he came after us.
