She refused to hand anything to me directly. Leighton looked me over from head to toe, left the body wash and hair products on the couch, and closed the office door tightly behind her.
She was reacting to me the same way as I was to her. We would end up with more than a bond of convenience—this couldbesomething.
All I had to do was make her see it.
* * *
Hot water slid down my curves, but I trembled. Red-tinted liquid circled the drain, and I clutched my decorative knife in my hand.
Adrenaline was wearing off.
Reality was crashing in, stripping me of my false bravado.
“What do I do?” I whispered to the knife, turning it over as the shower purged blood from the curls and indents of the design.
There was no answer the inanimate object could give, despite it being my only companion.
My body ached and wounds stung as the events of the day were rinsed off, leaving only the aftermath. A couple of bruises on my arms. Scraped knees. Minor knife wounds on my abdomen where I’d been hiding the weapon. An achy wrist, vaguely throbbing shoulder, and a gash through the palm of my left hand.
I struggled to process the physical effects, and the mental ones were completely out of my league. I’d gone from Jonathan to Soren to Leighton in less than twelve hours, passed around like a little omega toy. My father had always said that’s what I would be.
But Leighton didn’t want me.
It shouldn’t make my heart clench and stomach tighten, but it did. She was the only one I’d ever wanted, an alpha above any of the few I’d met. Her aura soothed instead of intimidated. Her presence felt comforting and there was nothing I wanted more than her claiming mark on my neck.
She could save me with it.
“I need the bond,” I murmured.
The sharp knife slipped from my fingers, dropping to clatter on the porcelain tub. I leaned to pick it up, my muscles protesting, when I heard a sharp knock on the door.
Freezing, I waited for her to barge in.
She didn’t. “I left clothes for you on the couch. If they don’t fit, let me know. We’ll get you some of your own tomorrow.”
She’s leaving?
All alphas I’d met would have jumped at the chance to intimidate me when I was extra vulnerable.
Her footsteps receded but I stayed still until my half-bent position left blood rushing to my head. Reaching for the knife, I hissed when the edge pierced my skin once again. More tainted water circled the drain, and I grabbed the weapon properly the second time around.
“I thought we were friends,” I said. “But I guess friends do hurt each other occasionally, don’t they? This feels kind of one-sided. What have I done to hurt you?”
My fingers brushed the hilt until I caught on a piece of paint that was threatening to flake. I was sure my knife would agree this tit for tat was warranted.
Besides, if the blade ever got back to my father, I wanted him furious at its condition.
Picking paint off with my nail, I continued until a small portion of the hilt was silver again, metal bare.
“We’re even.”
I placed the knife down on the edge of the tub and washed myself, the shivers finally subsided. The water was cooling rapidly, but my skin never prickled from the cold. My blood ran hot as I thought of Leighton.
She was everything.
Another level of perfection. Terse but kind. Attractive in a way none of the other alphas I’d met had been.
She’d be the second friend I ever had—the first being this knife. Then, she would become so much more than that.
