Page 14
Story: Knotting else Matters
Olivia
The cab wound its way up a narrow, twisting road, the trees growing thicker, the warm, golden glow of the town lights fading to a soft, silver-blue mist. The air grew cooler, the faint, sweet scent of pine and wildflowers drifting in through the open window.
After a few minutes, the car pulled to a stop at the base of a long, winding staircase carved into the hillside, the worn, moss-covered stones gleaming in the pale, silver light of the moon.
“There you go, miss.” The driver gestured up the hill, the faint, misty glow of lanterns lining the path, leading up to the quiet, secluded shrine. “Take your time. Ain’t nobody else gonna bother you up there.”
“Thanks.” I stepped out, the cool, damp grass brushing against my ankles, the faint, whispering breeze rustling through the trees. The cab pulled away, the soft, steady hum of the engine fading into the distance, leaving me alone beneath the quiet, silver glow of the moon.
I climbed the steps, my fingers trailing against the smooth, cool stone, the mist curling around me, soft and silent. The lanterns cast a warm, golden light, their faint, flickering glow dancing against the twisting, vine-covered trees.
At the top of the hill, the shrine stood—small, simple, but beautiful. A curved, moss-covered roof, delicate wooden beams carved with soft, swirling patterns, the faint scent of burning incense drifting from the small, bronze altar. Silver moonflowers bloomed along the edges of the path, their pale, glowing petals swaying gently in the breeze.
A soft, silvery mist hung in the air, the quiet, distant hum of cicadas a gentle, soothing whisper beneath the cool, moonlit sky. The stone steps stretched out before me, leading to the small, open courtyard, a single, ancient tree standing at the center, its wide, twisting branches draped in soft, silvery leaves.
I wasn’t here to pray. Not really.
I was here to be alone. To breathe. To force the sharp, aching knot in my chest to unwind.
To get away from Adrian. From Sophie. From everything that twisted and clawed at me, the wild, desperate ache that refused to let me go.
I leaned against the rough, moss-covered trunk of the ancient tree, my fingers brushing against the cool, smooth bark, the soft, silvery light of the moon spilling through the leaves, casting a pale, ghostly glow across the courtyard.
The air was cool, crisp, the faint, sweet scent of pine and wildflowers drifting around me, the quiet, steady pulse of the moonlight wrapping around me like a cold, soothing balm.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, there was silence. No angry whispers. No sharp, cutting words. No fierce, burning eyes.
Just quiet.
Just the soft, silver glow of the moon. Just… me.
And gods, I hated it. Hated how the silence only made the ache sharper, clearer. Hated how the stillness left me alone with the wild, twisted storm of my thoughts, with the fierce, desperate tension that refused to leave my chest.
Because even here—alone, surrounded by the sweet, silvery calm of the shrine—I couldn’t escape him. Couldn’t escape the way his voice echoed through my mind, the way his touch still burned against my skin, the way his dark, intense gaze seemed to linger, even in the shadows.
Even here, I couldn’t run away.
I leaned against the ancient, moss-covered trunk of the tree, my fingers tracing the rough, cool bark, the soft, silver glow of the moon spilling over me. The shrine was quiet, the gentle, misty breeze rustling through the silvery leaves, the lanterns casting a warm, flickering light against the twisting branches.
For a long moment, I just stood there, staring up at the pale, serene face of the Moon Goddess statue, her delicate, marble features glowing softly beneath the moonlight. Her eyes were closed, her hands folded in a quiet, graceful gesture, a faint, peaceful smile etched across her perfect lips.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, the words slipping out, raw and desperate, a faint, bitter laugh catching in my throat. “Isn’t that funny? I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I could just… stay for the wedding, play the good sister, and then leave. But I… I don’t know.”
The soft, misty breeze swept through the courtyard, brushing against my cheeks, stirring the loose strands of my hair. But nothing else happened.
Of course. What was I expecting? Some grand sign from the gods? For the sky to split in two and a chariot of fire to descend, a personal email from the goddess herself?
“Dear Olivia,
Stop being an idiot.
Love, the Moon Goddess.”
Silence. A quiet, soft, suffocating silence.
I leaned my head back against the tree, letting out a slow, shaking breath. “Maybe I should’ve prayed to a goddess that actually gives a damn.”
But the bitterness faded, leaving only the sharp, aching twist in my chest. A quiet, desperate ache that refused to leave.
After a few more moments, I pushed myself off the tree, brushing the moss and dirt from my jeans, my fingers still trembling, my heart still racing. I needed to leave. Needed to get back to the hotel, to sleep, to shut off my mind for a few precious hours before the chaos of tomorrow.
“Just… don’t let me run into Adrian,” I whispered, a faint, desperate plea slipping out as I stepped onto the winding path, the soft glow of the lanterns fading behind me. “Please. Just let me get through one night without… without all of this.”
But even as I walked, the night air turning cool, sharp against my skin, the memories clawed at me. Memories I didn’t want. Memories I thought I’d buried.
Flashes of childhood—of running through the playground in kindergarten, the other pups laughing, their voices sharp, cruel. “Zeta!” they’d jeered, their claws scratching at my arms, their teeth nipping at my ears. “ Zeta freak!”
My mother’s sharp, biting voice, her disappointment twisting in every word. “ Stand up straight, Olivia. Don’t embarrass yourself. Don’t embarrass me.” Her smile was for Sophie, her perfect Omega daughter. Her scowl was for me.
But my father… his warm, gentle smile, his rough, calloused hands brushing the dirt from my scraped knees. “Don’t listen to them, Liv. They don’t understand. They’re just scared of what they don’t know.” But even he couldn’t protect me forever. Even he couldn’t stop the whispers, the sharp, cutting words that twisted around me like chains.
And then high school—me, desperate, reckless, searching for anything, anyone who could make me feel… wanted. The first wolf I’d slept with—a tall, cocky Beta with a lazy smile and a cheap cologne that made my nose twitch. Only later did I hear the whispers, the cruel laughter. “He only did it because he lost a bet. Who else would touch a Zeta?”
My chest tightened, the cool night air burning against my skin, the sharp ache twisting, fierce and relentless.
I was so tired of it. So tired of the whispers, the stares, the constant, suffocating weight of never being enough. Of always being too much and not enough all at once.
And yet here I was—back in this perfect, polished little pack, surrounded by the same whispers, the same stares, the same suffocating expectations. Back where I didn’t belong. Back where I was a walking disappointment, a reminder of everything they wanted to forget.
The city lights stretched out below me, a soft, golden glow against the dark, rolling hills. The cab was gone, the winding road stretching out before me, empty and quiet.
I wrapped my arms around myself, my fingers gripping the worn, soft fabric of my shirt, the chill seeping into my bones. I didn’t want to go back. Didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to feel his dark, intense gaze burning against my skin. Didn’t want to see Sophie’s wide, hurt eyes or hear her desperate pleas.
But I didn’t have anywhere else to go.
So I walked. The winding path twisted beneath the silver light of the moon, the cool breeze brushing against my cheeks, feeling the sharp, electric ache in my chest with every step.
By the time I reached the hotel, the night had grown colder, the sharp, crisp air biting against my cheeks, the quiet, empty streets stretching out beneath the pale, silvery glow of the moon. I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, my breath coming in slow, shaky bursts, my mind still a tangled, desperate mess.
But the moment I stepped into the lobby, I froze.
My jaw dropped.
Yellow roses.
Everywhere.
The polished, sleek bar—usually a cold, minimalistic expanse of black marble—was now lined with vases filled with bright, golden yellow roses, their delicate petals blooming like bursts of sunshine against the dark, glossy surface. The small tables scattered around the lobby were the same, each one crowned with a vase overflowing with those vibrant, warm blooms.
I stood there, staring, my heart pounding against my ribs, the sharp, aching tension in my chest twisting, crashing into something else—something warm, something wild, something terrifyingly perfect.
I’d told him that. Joked about it, really. That the lobby looked too dark, too grave-like, and that a few yellow roses would give it a touch of life, a hint of warmth. I hadn’t thought he’d actually listen.
But he had. He’d done it.
And no wonder he’d gone to load the truck by himself. No wonder he’d been covered in dirt, that faint, wicked grin tugging at his lips when he walked into the breakfast room this morning.
“Unbelievable,” I whispered, a faint, breathless laugh slipping out, my fingers brushing against the soft, velvety petals of one of the roses, their sweet, subtle fragrance drifting around me.
He did this. For me. Because I made a stupid, careless joke. Because he listened.
My chest tightened, a fierce, desperate ache twisting through me, the wild, electric heat crashing against the sharp, suffocating fear.
What the hell was I supposed to do with this? What the hell was I supposed to do with him?
I reached into my purse, fingers fumbling for the small, plastic card key to my room, but when I pulled it out, it wasn’t mine. It was his.
The card to Adrian’s penthouse. The one he’d given me. The one I never returned.
I stared at it, the sharp, sleek edge catching the warm, golden light of the lobby. The faint, polished emblem of the hotel glittered against the dark plastic, a quiet, mocking reminder of the choice I didn’t know how to make.
My legs suddenly felt weak, the sharp, twisting ache in my chest crashing into something heavier, something desperate and wild. I didn’t even have the energy to press the elevator button. I just sank onto the plush, leather bench in front of the elevator, the card turning between my fingers, over and over.
What the hell was I supposed to do? Go up there? Act like nothing was wrong? Pretend I didn’t feel this wild, twisted mess of fear and longing? Pretend I didn’t see the yellow roses blooming across the lobby, a quiet, perfect echo of the words I’d carelessly thrown at him days ago?
“Olivia?”
I blinked, looking up, the warm, soft light of the lobby catching on a figure standing in front of me. Tall, elegant, a stunning vision of rich, dark chocolate skin and long, wavy hair cascading down her back. She wore a sleek, deep emerald dress that hugged her perfect curves, her full lips painted a soft, shimmery gold, her bright, warm eyes shining with surprise.
Ada.
“Sophie’s friend,” I murmured, the sharp, aching knot in my chest easing just slightly, a faint, weak smile tugging at my lips.
“Yes.” Her smile widened, a soft, gentle warmth spreading across her face, and before I could even stand, she leaned down, wrapping me in a warm, comforting hug. The soft, floral scent of her perfume wrapped around me, sweet and calming.
“Wow, you’re tense.” She leaned back, holding me at arm’s length, her sharp, dark eyes scanning my face. “Bad night?”
“Something like that.” I forced a laugh, slipping the card into my pocket, trying to ignore the wild, desperate flutter in my chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m staying here for a few nights.” She shrugged, her elegant, delicate fingers brushing a loose wave of hair behind her ear. “My apartment is being renovated, and I absolutely refuse to live in a dust storm.”
“That’s fair.”
“Come on.” She grabbed my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Let me buy you a drink. You look like you could use one.”
I didn’t argue. I didn’t even try. I just let her lead me to the bar, the soft, warm light spilling across the polished marble countertop, the quiet hum of conversation wrapping around us like a gentle, soothing balm.
“Two margaritas, please.” Ada smiled at the bartender, who nodded, already reaching for the fresh lime and salt.
“So…” I leaned against the bar, trying to ignore the sharp, desperate flutter in my chest. “Besides dodging dust, what’s going on with you?”
“Oh, you know.” She laughed, a soft, musical sound that seemed to light up the room. “Work, flowers, panicked brides, the usual. Sophie’s been a dream, though. A little anxious, but that’s expected. Honestly, I think Karl is more nervous than she is.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.” I smiled, taking the drink the bartender slid in front of me, the cold, salted rim pressing against my lips, the sharp, sweet-sour taste of lime and tequila a perfect, soothing burn.
We talked, the conversation slipping easily between us—stories of Sophie’s frantic flower arrangements, the last-minute menu changes, the endless parade of family members offering their “helpful” advice. Ada was warm, easy, her laughter a soft, soothing melody that wrapped around me, and for a moment, the sharp, aching tension in my chest seemed to ease.
But when the second round of drinks arrived, I leaned back, staring down at the faint, melted ring of salt on the rim of my glass, the question slipping out before I could stop it.
“Ada… what’s it like? Finding a mate?”
Her smile softened, her bright, warm eyes clouding just slightly. “It’s… it’s everything and nothing like they tell you.”
“That’s not exactly helpful.” I tried to laugh, but it came out shaky, and she seemed to notice.
“Sorry.” She leaned forward, her fingers tracing the stem of her glass, her gaze dropping to the soft, golden glow of the bar. “It’s like… it’s like the world suddenly makes sense. Like everything you were missing, everything you didn’t even know you needed, just… falls into place. But it’s not perfect. It’s not always easy. It’s a choice. Every day, it’s a choice to fight for them, to stand by them.”
I swallowed, the sharp, bitter ache twisting in my chest, the quiet, desperate fear clawing at me. “I'm sorry if talking about it hurts you. I know you lost him but... But you… you seem so strong. So… put together.”
“Looks are deceiving, darling.” She took a slow sip of her drink, her gaze flicking to the soft, warm glow of the yellow roses scattered across the lobby. “Adam was my mate. We were young, reckless, so sure we had forever. And then… he was gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Her smile returned, soft and sad. “I survived. I built a life. I found joy again. But it never stops hurting. Not really.”
Ada’s warm, gentle hand rested on mine, her fingers curling around my cold, trembling fingers, her touch a quiet, steady anchor in the storm of my thoughts. Her dark, warm eyes softened, a quiet, bittersweet smile tugging at her lips.
“Getting over the loss I suffered… it wasn’t easy, Olivia,” she whispered, her voice a soft, raw murmur that seemed to wrap around me like a quiet, painful embrace. “It nearly killed me. There were days when I thought I couldn’t breathe, when the world felt empty, hollow, like everything had lost its color. Waking up hurt. Breathing hurt. I hated the moon, hated the night because it reminded me of him… of everything we lost.”
Her voice caught, the faintest shimmer of tears glistening in her warm, dark eyes, but she didn’t look away. Didn’t hide.
“I thought I would never love again. Thought I would never smile, never feel that wild, fierce joy he brought into my life. But I did. I found happiness again. I built a life.” Her lips trembled, her voice breaking just slightly. “But even now… even after all these years… there are days when I wake up, and I still feel that emptiness. That ache. Like a piece of me is missing. Like I’m a puzzle with one piece gone.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, but she didn’t brush it away. “But even if my time with him was short, even if the pain nearly destroyed me… it was so worth it.”
I swallowed, the sharp, aching knot in my chest tightening, twisting, but I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.
“Because being with him… being loved by him… it changed me. It made me stronger. It showed me a love so fierce, so wild that even the darkness couldn’t take it away. And even now, even with all the pain, all the emptiness… I would choose him again. I would suffer it all again just for one more day, one more heartbeat with him.”
Her fingers tightened around mine, her voice a quiet, desperate whisper. “Because that’s what it means to find your mate, Olivia. It’s not perfect. It’s not always beautiful. It’s raw, and messy, and terrifying. But it’s real. It’s a fire that burns even when the world turns to ash. It’s a bond that even death can’t break.”
Tears burned in my eyes, my vision blurring, the sharp, suffocating ache in my chest crashing into something fierce, something desperate. I couldn’t look at her, couldn’t speak. The warmth of the bar, the soft, golden light, the quiet hum of laughter and conversation faded into a distant, muffled whisper.
Because her words weren’t just a story. They were a mirror. A twisted, painful reflection of everything I’d tried so hard to avoid, to deny, to run from.
I was falling. I was falling, and I was terrified.
“I—” My voice broke, a sharp, choked whisper. “I need… I need to get to bed. Sophie’s wedding is tomorrow, and I—”
Ada’s smile softened, her fingers slipping away, leaving a warm, lingering ache where they’d touched. “Of course, sweetheart.”
But I saw it in her eyes—the quiet, understanding sadness, the faint, knowing light.
I pushed myself off the barstool, fumbling for my purse, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill, my chest tight, twisted, a fierce, desperate ache clawing at me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” My voice was a sharp, shaky whisper, and before she could respond, I turned, walking away, the soft, warm glow of the bar fading behind me, the quiet, gentle murmur of conversation fading to a dull, distant hum.
The elevator doors slid open, the cool, polished metal reflecting my wild, tear-filled eyes, my trembling fingers. I stepped inside, the soft, golden glow spilling across my face, and for a moment, I saw her—Ada, sitting at the bar, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass, her gaze distant, lost in a memory I couldn’t touch.
And I hated it. Hated how her words twisted in my chest, hated how the fierce, desperate ache refused to leave.
I was falling. And I didn’t know how to stop.
The elevator doors whispered shut, the soft, gentle hum carrying me up, up, up… to my room. Not his. Not the penthouse key still burning a hole in my pocket. Just my room. Just my quiet, empty room, with its cold, crisp sheets and the faint, lingering scent of loneliness.
And gods, I wanted to scream. Wanted to cry. Wanted to tear the stupid, glittering watch off my wrist and throw it against the wall.
But I didn’t. I just stepped inside, letting the cool, quiet darkness wrap around me, my fingers fumbling for the light switch.
And in that quiet, empty silence, I let myself break. Let the tears slip down my cheeks, let the fierce, suffocating ache in my chest crash over me.
Because I knew it now. The truth I didn’t want to admit. I was falling for him. And I was terrified it would destroy me.