Page 24 of Knot Their Safe Haven

We circled her like satellites, close enough to affect her gravity but never brave enough to crash into her atmosphere. And Velvet,stubborn, proud Velvet,would rather suffer alone than accept anything less than complete devotion.

The irony was that she had it—our complete devotion.

We were all destroyed by her, all desperate for her. But somehow, that wasn't enough. Somehow, we'd convinced ourselves that loving her meant keeping our distance, that protecting her meant letting her protect herself.

I finished my whiskey and poured another, settling in for a long night of self-recrimination and surveillance.

Tomorrow, we'd pretend this never happened.

We'd go back to our careful dance.

But tonight, in the darkness of my office, I could admit the truth:

We were all cowards, and our cowardice was killing the woman we claimed to love.

THE WEIGHT OF THE MORNING AFTER

~VELVET~

The marks on my neck looked like a constellation of shame in the harsh bathroom light.

I traced them with trembling fingers, each purple bloom a testament to last night's weakness.Or was it his?The distinction hardly mattered anymore when we'd been playing this game for so long that the rules had blurred beyond recognition.

Would it be sick to admit I secretly enjoy it despite the obvious repercussions?

My reflection stared back—hair a mess of purple curls with silver threads I'd stopped bothering to hide, eyes shadowed with exhaustion despite sleeping for twelve fucking hours.

Twelve hours.

Fucking hell, I normally lucky to get six.

The water ran cold against my palms as I splashed my face, trying to wash away the lingering haze of wine and sleeping pills. The combination Malcolm had warned me against countless times, yet here I was, mixing them like a cocktail of self-destruction because what else did I have?

The irony wasn't lost on me that the very man who prescribed those pills was the one who couldn't resist taking advantage when they pulled me under.

No—that wasn't fair.

We both knew what this was.

Had known for years now, this careful dance of violation and consent, need and denial. He wasn't taking advantage any more than I was by leaving my door unlocked, by mixing substances that guaranteed I'd be pliant, by pretending I didn't wake sometimes when his hands were on me.

I’ve never told him no, because deep down, this was the few moments of escape I got from him.

Between Alpha and Omega…

Which probably made it seem as if my sex life was no different to the Sahara Dessert.

Then you’d wonder why an Omega like me rather drink wine all day than deal with her depressive thoughts revolving around her lack of dick when she’s constantly in contact with Alphas who want her but afraid to commit to her.

But touch and taunt her is all fine and dandy…right?

Gosh, when had it started?

Two years ago? Three? Heck, with how long we’ve known each other it could be even longer.

The memories blurred together like watercolors in rain. I remembered the first time I'd woken to find the sheets changed, my body sore in that satisfying way that spoke of proper fucking rather than my own desperate fingers. The scent of eucalyptus and mint lingering on my skin like a confession. I'd known immediately—Malcolm was the only one with that particular combination of medical precision and desperate need.

Knox would have left bruises.