Page 31 of Knot Their Safe Haven

Like I was a puzzle he'd already solved but enjoyed pretending he hadn't. Like every conjugation I taught him was foreplay to something we both knew we'd never act on. Those emerald eyes would track my movements with an intensity that belonged on someone decades older, someone who understood what want really meant.

"Vous êtes belle quand vous êtes en colère," he'd said once, after I'd snapped at him for not doing his homework.

You're beautiful when you're angry.

"And you're still failing French," I'd shot back, but my hands had trembled as I'd turned the page in his workbook.

He'd leaned back in his chair, all casual arrogance and knowing smiles.

"Maybe I like watching you try to fix me."

That should have been my warning. The moment I walked away, found another student, another source of income.

But I'd needed the money, and honestly?

Part of me had liked the way he made me feel seen.

Not as Knox's sometime-lover or another broken Omega who was raising a kid in the shadows trying to make it in a world designed to break us.But as something worth wanting. Something worth the kind of focused attention that made my skin prickle and my pulse race even as my mind screamed about appropriate boundaries.

The worst part was how aware he'd been of his effect.

Every "accidental" brush of fingers when I'd hand him papers. Anytime he'd switch to English just to say something inappropriately observant about the way I held myself when Iwas nervous. The way he'd smile when I'd flush and redirect to verb conjugations.

"One day,"he'd said on our last session, the day before he'd left for university abroad,"you're going to stop running from what you want."

"And what do I want?"I'd asked, already packing my things, already fleeing.

"To be claimed by someone who sees you. Really sees you. Not the masks or the walls or the careful control. Just you."

I'd left without responding, convinced I'd never see him again. That he'd been just another rich boy playing at depth, practicing his seduction techniques on the hired help.

But now...

The figure through the glass moved slightly, and the emergency light caught his profile.

Sharp jaw, aristocratic nose, that particular way of holding his head like he was constantly calculating the best angle for the world to admire him. But bigger now. Broader. The boyish lankiness replaced by a man's frame, wrapped in a coat that probably cost more than most people's cars.

Six feet? No. Taller. Six-two, maybe six-three.

Knox's height, but carried differently. Where Knox was all obvious power, built like a brick wall that dared you to test it, this figure was deceptive elegance. The kind of dangerous that hid behind manicured hands and perfect tailoring until you realized those hands could snap necks as easily as they signed checks.

Our eyes met through the glass, and my heart forgot its rhythm entirely.

Those eyes.

Still that impossible shade of green, like forest depths where light barely reached.But harder now.Aged by whatever seventeen years in the upper echelons of power did to a person.The boy who'd flirted with inappropriate honesty had become a man who looked like he collected secrets for sport.

And he was looking at me like I was a secret worth collecting.

"Velvet?"

I spun so fast I nearly fell, Knox's hand catching my elbow before I could embarrass myself further.

When had he gotten here? How long had I been staring at?—

I looked back at the glass.

Empty.