Page 15 of Knotty Nights
“Well…” I crossed my arms, watching her. “Everything’s gotta go somewhere, you know?”
“Of course.” She shrugged. “But just because people throw things away doesn’t mean the items aren’t worth anything any longer.”
My throat tightened. “What did you say?”
Atlas crouched low, her thigh muscles stretching around the unyielding leather precariously.
“You can’t tell me this doesn’t have its own kind of beauty.” She looked up finally, eyes bright with a genuine emotion that felt too sharp against the thin skin of my insecurities. “Just because someone decided they didn’t want it anymore doesn’t make it worthless.”
Ah shit.
I tried to wet my lips but found my tongue dry.
Surely she couldn’t know. She didn’t mean what she said inquitethat context.
Her nostrils flared as she gazed over at me, brows furrowing as she tried to decipher the swift change in my scent. Damn Heat pheromones! They’d be the death of me. Couldn’t I experience one damn emotion without giving myself away like I was made of thin fucking parchment paper?
“I—” I started, then bit the inside of my cheek. Hard.
Alpha or not, she was a stranger. She didn’t get to see me cracked open. She didn’t get to touch the parts of me I’d spent years welding shut.
But god, the words rang in my chest like a struck bell.
Worth… Still worth something… Even after being thrown away.
I hated how my throat burned.
She stood, brushing dust from her knees, looking sheepish. “Sorry. That was probably weird. I just… appreciate things with history.”
She gestured to the mountains of scrap. “This place feels like it has soul.”
“Soul?” I repeated, trying to deflect the sentiment before it settled in my chest. “Who knew an Alpha like you would have a soft spot?”
She touched a hand to her curls, pushing them back with a shy smile.
“Well…” She cleared her throat. “Someone once cared about these things, right? Someone used them, loved them, relied on them. Being discarded doesn’t erase that.”
My chest tightened sharply, and it was all I could do not to step back and place some physical distance between us.
She was talking about metal, damn it! So why did it feel like she was talking about me?
“What’s wrong?”
Her eyes trailed down to my waist where I had knotted the ties of the robe around my fingers.
"Nothing.”
Okay, that squeak was definitely a lie.
“Would you like me to leave?” she asked, eyes wide behind her glasses. “Do I make you uncomfortable? I will leave if you’d like me to.”
“No!” I stepped forward, my sliders touching the edge of her boots. “It’s not you—it’s just…”
I shook my head. “What you said about things having worth really got to me.”
“In a good way?”
I nodded. “I didn’t know how much I needed to hear something like that.”