Page 17 of Knot So Sweet (Leather and Lace #1)

Chapter 16

Candi

S omeone cleared their throat behind me, and I yelped in surprise.

Ghost stood in the doorway that led to the back rooms, his silhouette framed by the dim light spilling in from the hallway. I met his gaze. His thick, black brows pinched as he studied me.

The clean-shaven jaw set in a hard line was intense as hell. I swallowed the anxiety lodged in my throat and trailed my gaze down his bulky frame, taking in the thick arms, like tree trunks, folded across his broad-as-fuck chest.

He wore his leather cut, as always, the dark fabric clinging to his muscular build, paired with dark-washed jeans and scuffed biker boots. Leaning casually in the doorframe on one shoulder, he watched me with an air of relaxed confidence that sent a shiver down my spine.

God, he was intimidating.

All the shadows wrapped around him, blending him into the darkness. Just like his name. A ghost shrouded in the haze.

My fingers tightened around the rag in my hand as I straightened. How much of my freak-out had he seen? FUCK. I probably looked weak to someone as strong as him.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked, forcing my gaze back to the bar, scrubbing harder than necessary. Anything to avoid those hypnotic eyes.

"A while." Those two words had every hair on my arms standing at attention.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck.

He definitely saw me losing my mind. What must he think of me? I couldn’t bear to look at him again. The silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum.

He stepped into the room, his presence filling the space with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. "You okay?"

"Yep. Fine. Just… cleaning," I said, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. I kept my back to him, hoping the motion would somehow shield me from his scrutiny.

"Right." His tone was skeptical, and I could practically feel his gaze boring into my back. "You’ve been scrubbing that same spot for a while now. I think it’s safe to say it was already clean," he said, stepping closer. "What’s really going on, princess?"

A part of me wanted to snap at him, to shove the rag into his hands and tell him to clean it himself. But there was a deeper part—one that craved his understanding, his support. I clenched my jaw, battling the instinct to spill everything.

I shot a glance over my shoulder, catching the flicker of concern in his eyes and my chest deflated. "It’s just... a lot right now."

"A lot?" he echoed, his voice lowering. "You mean Adam? The Den? Or is it something else?"

I turned to face him, the frustration boiling over. "It’s everything… I’m tired of feeling like I’m just waiting for the next disaster to strike. It’s exhausting." I bit my lip to stop myself from releasing all of my demons on him. He had that effect on me and I didn't like how easily he got me to speak my truth.

He studied me, those green eyes searching for something beneath the surface. "You don’t have to do this alone, Candi. Let me help you."

"Who says I want your help?" I shot back, my words sharp and defensive, like a shield I’d raised against his concern. "I can handle myself."

"Clearly," he replied dryly, crossing his arms and leaning back slightly. "You’re doing a fantastic job."

His gaze flickered down to the floor where the broken band lay—a guilty reminder of my addiction, a fractured piece of my control.

"When was the last time you cut yourself, Candi?" The question hung in the air, heavy and accusatory, making my blood simmer. I could see the concern etched in his expression. And I masked my need to tell him with anger. "Tell me."

"Six months ago. When Owen was taken by Michelle. I couldn’t handle it and lost my control."

"Where?" he demanded, the kind of tone that hinted he could push harder if he chose to. Bark my compliance, but he didn't.

My teeth clenched together, the tension coiling tight in my chest. I didn’t want to show him that particular spot—the scar hidden beneath layers of ink therapy.

The serpent and dagger.

I folded my arms across my chest, instinctively shielding myself. If I revealed it, he’d see the truth—the way I subconsciously chose him and Viper to heal this wound. I couldn’t let him in that deep.

He took a step back, and I exhaled sharply, the breath rushing out of me in a mix of relief and anxiety. Maybe he wasn’t going to push me on this. But then, my hand landed on my stomach, an unconscious gesture that he immediately noticed, his eyes tracking the movement with keen interest.

"Show it to me."

FUCK.

I hesitated, the weight of his request hanging heavy between us. "Why do you care?" I shot back in a final attempt to keep him at arms length.

"Because I want to understand you, Candi. To be worthy of you." His gaze didn’t waver, intense and probing, as if he were peeling back the layers I so carefully constructed.

"Maybe I don’t want to be understood," I snapped, my defenses flaring. But deep down, a part of me craved that understanding, that connection I was so afraid to acknowledge.

"Don't hide from me. Please," he said softly, almost coaxing. "Let me in. Just a little."

The way he said it, with that steady gaze and a sincerity that almost broke through my barriers. My stomach twisted. "What if I show you and you don’t like what you see?" I countered, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Candi," he said my name in a rough tone. "There is nothing you could say or do that would make me not want you."

I felt the walls I had built around myself quiver. The thought of revealing that scar, of sharing my pain, terrified me. But the warmth in his eyes suggested that maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t judge me for it.

With a shaky breath, I let my arms drop to the hem of my favorite band T—the one I wore when I needed armor. But right now, this armor was doing shit to keep me protected from Ghost.

I lifted the shirt to show my midriff, exposing the ink that wrapped around my belly button.

Ghost’s eyes widened slightly, and he stepped closer, his expression shifting from intensity to something softer, more tender. The scent of pine enveloped me, grounding and inviting.

"You covered it with ink. It’s stunning, princess," he murmured, his sincerity sending a thrill through me. His fingertips brushed along my stomach, sending a shiver through my body. I quivered at his touch, a mix of fear and longing coiling inside me.

"You just got this?" he asked in surprise, his fingers lingering on the still tender flesh. Tears sprang to my eyes, not from pain, but from an emotion I couldn't quite place.

"You got this for your mates," he stated, not phrasing it as a question but as a truth he understood.

"Not on purpose," I admitted, my voice shaky. "Benson, my artist, pointed it out." I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "We actually got into a fight about it yesterday." I shrugged, trying to downplay the hurt that throbbed in my chest.

But it wasn’t just a fight. It felt like a fracture in a bond I had relied on. He had done all my ink since high school, and now I didn’t know if I would have that connection again unless we made up. And I didn’t see that happening anytime soon.

Ghost’s gaze didn’t waver, and I could see the questions forming behind his eyes. "What was it about?" he asked gently, coaxing me to share more. An urge to retreat surged within me.

My brows rose in surprise. "Our fight?"

Ghost nodded, his fingers trailing to my hips, gripping me softly. The warmth of his touch sent an electric thrill through me, but it also made me hesitate. I shook my head, not wanting to dive into that messy conflict.

Damn it.

He could literally ask me anything, and I would tell him. It made zero sense that he wielded that much control over me without forcing my compliance with an alpha bark. But why? I didn't understand him. Or Viper for that matter.

Instead of getting into the messy details of my fight with Benson, I redirected the conversation, desperate for clarity. "What do you want from me, Ghost?"

My voice was softer now, almost vulnerable. I had asked Viper the same question, and yet I still felt like I didn’t truly understand either of these alphas.

His grip tightened slightly, not in a controlling way, but as if he were anchoring me to the moment. "I want to know you," he said, his tone sincere. "All the parts you hide away behind the black lipstick and sass." He smirked at that last part.

As he spoke, I felt the distance between us begin to close, and a part of me wanted to lean into it. But another part screamed for me to pull away, to keep my heart shielded from the very real possibility of pain.

I swallowed hard, wrestling with the urge to spill everything, to let him in. But fear held me back, a tight knot in my chest. I couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, not with someone who could easily shatter what little armor I had left.

That was the scariest part.

Ghost could easily shatter me if he wanted to and I would never recover.

"I’m not asking you to lay everything bare right now. Just… give me a chance to show you that I’m not like everyone else that's broken your trust."

My defenses rose as I stepped out of his gentle hold.

"Stop fighting yourself. I know you want this, princess. You need an alpha to soothe away your anxiety. You’re clearly struggling. So let me help you." He said it matter-of-factly, without a hint of taunt.

He was being genuine.

"You don't get it!" I shouted. "I don't want an alpha! I'll never want an alpha."

"No? I think you need one."

I shook my head, desperation clawing at me. "I can't!" My heart raced as I held a hand up in a desperate attempt to keep him at arm's length, even as my body betrayed me, aching to bridge the gap.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between us, his gaze steady and unyielding. The warmth radiating from his body was both comforting and suffocating, making it harder to keep my defenses up.

"Why?" he asked, his voice low, a quiet demand for answers I wasn’t sure I could give.

"Because…" The word trembled on my lips, heavy with the fears I couldn’t bear to voice. "Because being tied to you—or Viper—means giving up my freedom. It means losing control. I can’t—" My voice broke, raw and exposed.

"Is that what you really think?" His tone softened, his eyes searching mine. "That letting me in means losing yourself?"

"It’s not that simple!" I snapped, the storm of emotions surging within me, crashing against my carefully constructed walls. "You don’t know what it’s like to feel this way—to be a target for everyone’s desires. It’s fucking exhausting, Ghost. I’m tired of everyone wanting a piece of me. Of everyone wanting me to fit into their mold."

He didn’t back down, his gaze never wavering. "But I do know what it’s like to fight against your own instincts, to feel trapped." His voice cracked slightly, the vulnerability in it catching me off guard.

"When my brother went into that building, I wanted to stop him, Candi. Every part of me screamed to hold him back, but I couldn’t. I didn't. I dream about it every night—seeing him burn alive, hearing those omegas scream. The smell of it…" He choked on the words, the pain flashing across his face.

His brother. His best friend. His other half. Gone. I couldn't fathom losing Owen. I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest. I hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected him to reveal his scars.

The reminder of his loss, his guilt, hit me hard, and I could feel the walls I’d built start to tremble. He wasn’t just trying to break down my barriers—he was baring his soul, laying it all out in front of me. He was offering a piece of himself in a way no one else had.

And I didn’t know how to handle it.

"It haunts me," he continued, his voice rough, laced with guilt. "And now the Hounds haven’t retaliated, and I’m here—in their territory—protecting you. Making sure you’re safe. You’re my responsibility, princess. Don’t you get that?" The sincerity in his words, the raw emotion, pulled at something deep inside of me.

His hands balled into fists at his sides, his pine scent thick and heavy around us. "Me and my brother… we were supposed to share a mate. That was the plan since we were cubs."

My heart twisted painfully. "Chaos… was my mate?" I whispered, the name lingering in the space between us like a ghost. The realization dawned on me.

I would never know him.

Why did that hurt so much?

Ghost nodded, his green eyes glossy with unshed tears.

"I can’t fail him again, princess. I can’t fail you ." He stepped even closer, his pine and leather scent enveloping me, grounding me despite the storm raging within.

"I’m not asking you to give up your freedom, Candi," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m asking you to let me in. To let me help carry the weight. You don’t have to do this alone."

My throat tightened, and for a brief moment, the fear—the overwhelming fear of losing myself—clashed with the desire to let someone in. To let Ghost in.

"But what if I can’t?" I whispered, my voice barely more than a fragile breath, each word weighed down with years of insecurity, of scars that hadn’t healed. "What if I let you in, and you don’t like what you find? What if I’m too broken for you, for Viper... for anyone?"

Ghost’s hand lifted, his fingers brushing against my cheek, wiping the tears I hadn't realized were falling. The touch sent a shiver rippling through me, pulling at the walls I had fortified for so long.

His thumb grazed my jaw, his rough skin against mine a cruel contrast to the softness in his eyes. "You’re not broken, princess. And even if you were... I’d still want you. Every. Damn. Piece."

There was no hesitation in his words, no room for doubt. It wasn’t a promise—it was a fact. The weight of it crashed over me, a suffocating mixture of relief and fear.

His words wrapped around me, a promise that threatened my resolve. There was something unshakably certain in his voice, something that made my heart flutter in a way I hated. Something that made me feel alive.

"Let me help you," he said again, his voice barely a whisper now, almost reverent, as though he feared pushing too hard would make me crumble. The rawness in his tone was unnerving, cracking through the layers of self-protection I had built up.

I wanted to close off again, to retreat into the safety of silence. But a dangerous part of me wanted to believe him, to trust that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as alone as I thought.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. A part of me wanted to lean into him, to let him carry the burden of everything I couldn’t. But the shadows inside me hissed their warning, reminding me of every time I’d trusted and been left to drown.

The space between us seemed to shrink, the air around us thickening with something electric, something that made my skin prickle and heart pound. His proximity was overwhelming, his warmth seeping into me, pulling me toward him even as I struggled to keep my distance. I was like a moth drawn to his flame.

I clenched my jaw, my eyes flicking everywhere but his—his leather cut, the floor, the door. Anywhere but those eyes that could unravel me with just a glance.

"You want to feel something real, princess," he murmured, stepping even closer, his breath fanning against my ear, igniting a spark of heat that shot through my body. "Let me show you."

His gaze dropped to my mouth.

My breath hitched, my body betraying me as I fought against the pull of him. The urge to run battled with the deep, aching desire to fall into his strength, to let him take away the weight of everything. But fear gripped me tight, its claws digging into my chest.

"Ghost..." My voice cracked, a trembling whisper as I held up a hand, weak and shaking. "I can’t."

His eyes flickered with something—hurt, maybe—and for a second, I wished I hadn’t spoken at all. The sadness in his mossy gaze cut deep, like a razor blade slicing through my defenses. He took a step back, giving me space, but his hand lingered near my hip, as though he was afraid to completely let go.

"I’m not going to force you, Candi," he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. "Viper already lectured me about you getting to choose us. And I get it—I do. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to bend you over this bartop and fuck you until you can’t say anything but my name... but I’ll wait."

Damn him.

My mouth parted, the sharp retort I wanted to throw back stuck in my throat. I was never speechless, but now? Now, I had nothing. His words, his promise, the raw desire simmering just beneath the surface—it was all too much.

Too real. And also hid his own pain. One I caused him. I could see it still lingering in the depths of his eyes.

The front door banged open, and lemon curled around me—sharp, bitter. My stomach lurched into my throat, the sour tang of it making bile rise.

I knew that smell.

Travis Knight.

The alpha I swore I'd kill if I ever saw his face again. The alpha who, along with his friends, taunted me for months, circling like vultures, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Hello, sweet tart . Did you miss me?" His voice slithered over my skin, thick like oil, settling deep into the cracks I thought I’d sealed long ago. It twisted around my heart, squeezing the breath from my lungs, forcing me back to a time I swore I’d buried.

To the girl I once was.

The one who had her innocence ripped away. The girl who shattered into a thousand jagged pieces, the day he decided she was nothing more than a challenge to be won.

Why? Because I perfumed for the first time at a high school party and Travis decided to take what he wanted.

The memory clawed its way to the surface, tearing through the fragile walls I’d built. I remember the way Travis’s eyes gleamed, the way his friends laughed as if it were some kind of sick joke. They circled me like predators, alphas drunk on the power of scent, while I stood frozen in fear.

My scent had made me his prey.

I can still feel his hands on me. That moment when my world collapsed, when the fear consumed everything. I sucked in a shaky breath, my pulse pounding in my ears, pulling me back to the present, to the scent of bitter lemon that now smothered the room.

I could barely breathe.

My vision blurred, emotions crashing into me with the force of a storm.

Rage.

Fear.

Humiliation.

All tangled together, swirling like a whirlpool I couldn’t escape.

Ghost’s arms tightened around me, grounding me for a moment, but nothing could drown out the memory of that day. Of what Travis had done to me.

But more than that—Of what I’d done to survive since then.