Page 16 of Knot So Sweet (Leather and Lace #1)
Chapter 15
Candi
L ast night was a sleepless blur. To say I had been shocked when Viper told Ghost to let me go was the understatement of the century. The authority in Viper's voice, the way he had intervened with such finality—it sent a shiver down my spine. I was still grappling with why.
My stomach fluttered with nervousness, I had been this close to giving in to my instincts, against my better judgment. It gnawed at me as I wiped down the bartop, my mind unable to fully concentrate. It didn't help that I knew Ghost would be here soon. The thought had me glancing at the front door expectantly.
One question loomed over everything though: why hadn’t Viper just taken what he wanted? Claimed me? He had practically told me he was going to, hadn’t he?
I shook my head, gnawing on my bottom lip as I replayed that moment over and over. Ghost had been so ready, so willing to assert his dominance, and I had wanted it too. When he'd grabbed me by the throat and tossed me onto the desk, my body had reacted with an undeniable surge of lust.
"God, his dominance was so fucking hot," I whispered.
The phantom sensation of his touch lingered, heavy and electric against my skin. The memory stirred something deep within me. Where would he have bitten me?
My neck, my inner thigh, my breasts? I trailed a hand along my throat, deep in thought as a shiver raced up my spine—a mix of fear and forbidden desire.
"No, Candi. Stop it. You don’t want an alpha," I chided myself, shaking my head.
This wasn’t about what my body wanted, or the fierce pull of desire that had almost overtaken me. I might crave them, but I knew what was best for me. Being tied to a pack wasn’t it.
Last night was a lapse in judgment. Call it heat stroke—because clearly, my brain had fried and taken all my common sense with it.
"I’m not weak," I hissed, trying to silence that mocking voice inside.
That dark voice echoed my father’s lessons. The lessons that had been drilled into me since my designation emerged. I snapped the band on my wrist hard , forcing myself to calm the fuck down.
My thoughts spiraled—Ghost’s hands, Viper’s eyes, the looming threat of Adam hanging over me like a noose. All of it was pushing down on me, making me want to scream.
"Stop this shit right now," I commanded myself, closing my eyes to the demons swirling in my mind.
But every time I let my guard down, they returned—haunting me, tempting me. Morphing into Ghost's hands trailing over my curves, his touch leaving a searing imprint. Viper’s onyx eyes, dark and intense, filled with promises of pleasure.
"Focus, Candi. You’re stronger than this," I told myself, gripping the rag tightly as I wiped down the bartop. My movements were mechanical, my mind desperate for distraction.
Anything to divert my thoughts from the fantasies playing on an endless loop. Hands, lips, and teeth that promised nothing but chaos and destruction. My skin prickled with goosebumps at the thought.
"Damn it, Candi. Get your shit together," I growled, scrubbing the wood harder.
Ghost and Pixie were coming to install the cameras, and then I could curl up in my nest and ride this out. But even that thought had lost its luster. At some point, my safe space started feeling like a gilded cage. I was trapped here, waiting .
Waiting for Adam to make a move.
Waiting for the Den to reopen.
Waiting for my heat to finally consume me.
Waiting for something to take my control.
Waiting... Waiting... WAITING.
"God, I’m so fucking tired of it," I choked, frustration bubbling over. And I knew when Ghost walked through that door, it wouldn’t just be about installing cameras.
He hadn’t wanted me to leave last night, and I could feel the rage emanating off him when Viper made him let me go. Anxiety tightened my chest at the thought.
What is he going to say today?
I snapped the band on my wrist, the sting sharp and grounding. My hormones were creeping in, slow but steady, making it harder to think straight. Maybe that was the real problem.
My heat was turning me into someone I barely recognized—someone reckless. Someone who let herself fall into Ghost’s touch. Someone who let Viper’s gaze linger too long, whispering promises I wasn’t ready to admit I wanted.
"I can’t lose control. Not again," I warned myself, pacing the room as restless energy burned under my skin. Nothing ever helped when the heat started to rise. I told myself this time would be different. That I’d be stronger. But as I glanced at the empty doorway, my pulse quickened.
"You can handle this," I reminded myself.
But deep down, I felt the looming threat of what would happen when Ghost and Pixie arrived. It would be a battle between what I wanted and what my instincts demanded. I shook my head. It was a distraction. A dangerous one.
The band snapped harder against my wrist, the pain sharp and real.
"Focus," I ordered myself.
Snap. Snap. SNAP.
Again and again, until the rubber band broke away completely, leaving a dull ache. Tears burned at the back of my eyes, suffocating and bitter. I blinked them back, swallowing down the pressure building in my chest.
"I hate being an omega," I spat the words through clenched teeth. But even as I tried to push my feelings down, I knew the truth. It was only a matter of time before instinct took over. I ran my fingers through my raven hair, tugging at the strands in a desperate attempt to ground myself.
It didn’t help.
My hands trembled as I picked up the rag again, scrubbing the bar with too much force. The fabric dragged across the wood, but it did nothing to drown out the storm inside of me.
“Goddammit, Candi," I muttered, my voice cracking. "Get a grip."
But it was useless.
No matter how many times I snapped the band or scrubbed the bar, their scents, their touches lingered, twisting my stomach into knots. I knew Ghost could soothe this side of me. His mere presence alone silenced the demons. If I tried, I could still smell his pine scent.
I glanced at the broken band on the floor. What I wouldn’t give for something stronger—anything to stave off this relentless need for control crawling up my spine, making my breath quicken.
I stared at the clock. They were late. Of course they were .
"Just one little cut," my darkness promised into the empty room. My heart pounded so hard it drowned out everything else. Every sound around me felt muted, distant, as if I were submerged underwater, struggling to keep my thoughts from spiraling out of control.
"You don't need to cut yourself. You're stronger than this ," I croaked, trying to believe it.
My pep talk wasn’t enough .
My gaze wandered to the faint white scar peeking out from behind the skull tattoo on my forearm. The urge to reopen that scar, to bleed my demons into a dull roar, was almost overwhelming.
The thought clawed at me, whispering promises of pain and release, offering a brief escape from the chaos swirling within.
I clenched my fist, my nails digging into my palm, grounding myself in the present. The temptation to slip away into the bathroom, to let the blade slice through my skin and release some of this pent-up energy, was nearly too much to bear.
But the thought of Owen finding out—and the disappointment he would feel—held me back. He’d be furious. Not just with me, but with himself for not seeing the signs, for not stopping me.
"I can’t do that to my brother. Not again," I whispered, my voice barely above a breath.
Not when he’s finally happy with his pack.
I couldn’t diminish that happiness. I couldn’t let my darkness taint his light. Yet no matter how hard I tried, my thoughts remained a jumbled mess I couldn’t control.
Ghost's voice from last night lingered, his dark promise casting a shadow I couldn’t shake. "Stop fighting it, princess, because the moment you do, the moment you let us in... it'll feel so fucking good."
My breath hitched at the memory, a pulse of heat flaring within me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push his words from my mind, but they clung to me like a thick fog.
The irrational anger that he wasn’t here this morning only fueled the fire. I was furious with myself for letting him get under my skin, for allowing the thought of him to consume me like this.
The urge for a bloodletting, to release the demons that whispered sweet nothings in my ear, grew harder to ignore. It felt like a weight on my chest, pressing down, suffocating me.
"Leave me the fuck alone," I growled, my voice raw with frustration.
I leaned against the bar, trying to steady my breath, but the nerves were relentless.
"Help me, please," I begged into the empty space, though I didn’t know who I was asking. All I knew was that I had to pull myself together. But no matter how hard I tried, my heart continued to race, a wild drumbeat echoing in my ears.
I stood there, rigid as I waited . For hope. For something—anything—to take the edge off. But waiting to be rescued was a fool's dream. It was time to take control of my fate, to stop fighting against the tide and start swimming.