Knot A Trace: Part One

The doctor confirms that nothing is broken, and I’m released from the hospital and assigned to a week of bed rest.

“This is unnecessary,” I grumble as I awkwardly plop down onto a cushioned leather seat. River’s car is nicer than I was expecting; it’s sleek, dark, and surprisingly clean except for the old coffee cup and the packet of cigarettes in the drink holder.

I still can’t wrap my mind around it. Why am I in his car? Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to drive my car back?

Our Omega scent will linger in his car, a small voice says. I ignore it.

There’s no way he’d want my scent in his car. Right?

“I can call my coworker; you don’t have to do all of this,” I try again.

But the walk to his car took more energy than I thought, and I don’t know if I can keep moving.

I want to sleep.

“You already tried that with Landon, and it’s not going to work on me,” River says simply as he enters the driver’s side. “If you couldn’t get through to that arrogant prick, you sure as shit can’t convince me.”

He slams his door shut, and whatever retort I had dies once we’re in the enclosed space.

He’s everywhere.

His scent permeates everything around me, and I sigh contentedly. Tingles spread throughout my limbs as I breathe deeply.

I haven’t been in a confined space with an Alpha for a very long time, unless you count a few passing moments in an elevator.

“Seatbelt,” he orders, snapping me out of my bliss.

“Huh?” I can barely talk; I’m too comfortable and already drifting to sleep.

“Seatbelt, Skylar.”

I snort. “Okay, dad.”

“Skylar.”

His tone lowers and my entire being snaps to attention as I open my eyes.

Obey Alpha!

I want to please him. I want to do anything he tells me to; I want to be a good Omega for him…

But I must not react in time, because he’s suddenly reaching over me, his face far too close to mine as he grabs my seatbelt. Up close, I can see the flecks of gold in his eyes, pairing beautifully with the green of his irises.

We make eye contact for a moment, then he’s yanking the seatbelt over my chest and clicking it into place.

“Are you always this stubborn?” he mutters, pulling away from me. He starts the car, and the engine roars to life.

“Probably as stubborn as you,” I reply, yawning. I watch his side profile as he clenches his sculpted jaw, then rolls his eyes.

Does he feel as awkward as I do after what just happened? His lips were far too close to mine, and if I dwell on it any longer…

“You should sleep,” he says instead, keeping his attention on the road. I watch as his hand reaches for the gearstick and notice how tightly he grips it.

“You should sleep,” I slur back instead, aware of how ridiculous it sounds since he’s the one driving me home.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he replies easily.

“I’m sure you’ve said that a hundred times,” I murmur, closing my eyes. I listen to the gentle purr of the engine and slow my breathing to savor his scent.

“And I’ll say it a hundred more.”

“Hmm. What are we going to do about my car?” I mumble.

“Landon’s dropping it off. He’ll give me a ride back,” he spits, as if being around Landon is repulsive.

I hum. “He’s nicer than you.” I keep my eyes closed and fight a smile when his scent intensifies.

I don’t know why I enjoy antagonizing River. He’s dangerous and bordering on the side of crazy.

So why am I playing with fire?

He growls, and suddenly I’m not entertained anymore. I snap my eyes open, and an ice-cold trickle of fear spreads up my spine.

“Sorry,” I murmur, focusing on his cheek stubble. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m being shitty.”

His hands grip the steering wheel tighter as he stares straight ahead. “You have a concussion. It’s a miracle you’re even speaking coherently,” he says, his voice clipped. “You should sleep.”

I squirm in my seat. Why would he bother to do any of this? Guilt gnaws at my core, and I feel like a burden.

“If you didn’t want to be around me, you didn’t have to drive me,” I blurt out, my voice cracking.

But before he can answer, an annoying chime blares near my feet.

And that’s when I notice my purse on the floor for the first time, with my cell phone’s obnoxious ring sounding through the satchel.

Groggily, I pull the black bag onto my lap and fish out my phone.

It’s Devyn.

I groan.

“Do you have to answer that?” River asks quietly, finally looking over at me. We’re stopped at a red light, and I hold his gaze as I reject the call.

I shake my head. “No. I’ll text her.”

“Her?” he asks.

“My coworker. The one I would have asked to give me a ride,” I mumble, looking down at Devyn’s text.

Checking in. You okay?

I try to give her the condensed version.

I’m fine. Got hit by a car, but I’m okay. Mild concussion. Got a ride home.

I place the phone on my lap and close my eyes, waiting for the inevitable freak out.

A series of rapid electronic chimes goes off and I switch my phone to silent, not wanting to deal with Devyn’s inevitable freak out.

“Holy fuck,” River says. “You must be popular.”

“Just an overprotective coworker. A little manic, and she worries too much.”

“Humph,” he grunts. “Is there anyone else you need to call?”

I frown at his strange tone. “Um, no,” I mumble, fighting to ignore the ache in my head. “Not really. I don’t need everyone worrying about me when they should be worrying about April.”

“So, no boyfriend or anything like that?” He asks it quickly and conversationally, but I realize what he’s doing.

He’s fishing for information.

How very detective like of him.

In any other instance, I would assume he’s interested. But this is all out of obligation.

I snort. “No.”

“Why is that funny?”

I keep my eyes closed and sigh. “Because the last person I dated was a piece of shit, so I don’t recommend you call him.”

He’s quiet for a long time, long enough that the background noise of his driving starts to serenade me.

“Sleep,” he says softly, his tone almost gentle. “We’ve got a while before we get you home.”

But my eyes open one more time as we stop at a red light. “Wait. How do you know where I live?”

This time he turns to look at me. He’s the slightest bit amused, and the corner of his lip turns up. It’s the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen from him.

“From your wallet, Skylar.”

I blink.

“Oh,” I mumble.

Duh, idiot.

He chuckles, and it’s more charming than it should be.

My eyes close, and I drown in his scent, allowing his aroma to soothe me to sleep.

“Skylar.” The voice is masculine, deep, and gentle.

I keep my eyes closed, humming contentedly.

It’s nice to hear my name spoken like that.

“Skylar.” A little louder this time, but still with that soothing cadence.

A delicious scent accompanies the voice.

An Alpha scent.

I could drown in it. It excites my body, sending tingles down my spine and spreading across my body, focusing on my aching nipples.

There’s a warm hand on my shoulder, and I startle awake, jerking away from River’s touch. He flinches and returns his hand to his side, seeming surprised he touched me.

“Shit. Sorry,” he mutters, shaking his head. “We’re here.”

He’s parked in my driveway.

My face flushes, and I realize with horror that I’m wet. I can feel the slick in between my thighs, and my panties are damp.

This can’t be happening. I hope I didn’t leave a smear on his leather seats because I will die.

I have to get out of this car.

I quickly unbuckle my seatbelt and reach for the door handle, but River interrupts me.

“Hang on,” he orders, and I freeze.

“But—”

“Let me get the door for you,” he interrupts, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

My head spins as I watch him exit the car.

Who is this man?

Hours ago, he was an absolute asshole, and now he’s chivalrous.

Jason didn’t open car doors for you.

I ignore my inner Omega, who is absolutely delighted at the attention she’s receiving.

It’s temporary. He’s leaving, I remind my inner voice.

I refuse to get my hopes up.

All that matters right now is finding April and taking care of the café.

There’s no time for whatever these feelings are.

The passenger door opens, and River reaches a hand out to me.

I smooth my skirt down, then take his hand, ignoring the pulsing in my core.

“I can walk,” I insist when his hand wraps around my waist.

“Yeah, that’s a lie,” he chuckles, shutting the passenger door. “Don’t bullshit me; it doesn’t work.”

My short heels clack against the driveway as he supports me.

It’s entirely too intimate for my liking, and my body responds as if it’s never been touched before. Another rush of slick drips into my panties, and I awkwardly shift my thighs together, hoping he doesn’t notice.

“Smoking is disgusting,” I blurt out. “You should quit.”

Apparently, my filter is gone.

I watch as he fiddles with my house key (how did he get my house key?) and feel him chuckle as he unlocks the door.

“Sure, babe,” he says. “Just for you.”

Babe.

My inner Omega does a series of cartwheels.

I need an extra dose of suppressants. I’m reacting too strongly to everything he does.

We step inside the front room, and he lets go of my waist as soon as I kick off my heels. I look up at him, meeting his green, expressive eyes.

“Okay,” I say, doing my best to not sound exhausted. “Well, thanks. I’m good from here. You said Landon is bringing my car back, right?”

His eyes narrow, and I can tell he sees through my bullshit. “You know you have a concussion, right? You need someone to look out for you.”

I blink. “What?”

“I’m staying here for a bit,” he says simply.

I gawk at his audacity. “You’re doing what?”

“I’m staying here,” he says slowly, as if I’m a child. “You hit your head. The doctor said you need to have someone around you for at least the next few hours.”

He crosses his arms across his chest, daring me to argue.

“Don’t you have cases to solve?” I snap, irritated. I want him gone. The longer he stays here, the more I’ll want him around.

“I do. But you obviously can’t be trusted to be by yourself without getting run over, so here we are.”

I gape at him. His expression gives nothing away, but I can tell by the subtle, sweet change in his scent that he’s not being malicious.

He’s joking, which somehow makes it far worse.

“You’re impossible,” I sigh.

“You’re not the first person who has said that,” he confirms as I walk away from him and head into my kitchen. It’s connected to the front room, so with only a few steps I’m at my tile counters, doing my best to organize everything so it’s at least a little presentable.

Not that I care what he thinks.

But still, I don’t want to pass out and wake up to a messy kitchen.

Especially if I’m going to work in the morning.

Not that he needs to know that.

River follows me and leans against the counter, watching me as I open a plastic container to start putting all the extra macarons away.

I pretend that he’s not staring. I try not to imagine him analyzing my kitchen, judging me based on how messy, unkempt, and dusted with flour everything is.

I use a paper towel to mop up some empty coffee grounds, and when I turn around, he’s only feet behind me, picking up the container of macarons.

“Can I help you?” I ask, uncomfortable at the invasion of my space.

He was so quiet about it too, which makes it worse.

It’s hot, my inner Omega says. He’s like a shadow. He can sneak up on you whenever.

I silently tell her to shut up.

River drums his fingers on the top of the container, frowning. “Those cookies you made earlier were really fucking delicious,” he grumbles, as if admitting defeat.

My heart thumps wildly in my chest. “Oh, you mean the bribes?” I sneer, walking away from him. I turn my attention to the espresso machine in the corner, my face flaming and tears threatening to fill my eyes. I close each bag of coffee grounds and line them neatly up against the backsplash of the counter.

I’ve always been proud of my kitchen. Even though the house I live in is small, I made sure the kitchen was the star of the show.

It’s where I do my best work, and when organized, it looks like it could be in a magazine.

Obsessive organization is one of my newest coping mechanisms for dealing with April’s disappearance, and having River invade my safe space with his presence does strange things to me.

“Hey, Skylar. Look at me.”

I don’t want to look at him. I want to stay where I am, with my back to him and the image of my beloved espresso machine turning blurry.

“Skylar.”

Resigned, I turn to face him. I pray the tears aren’t visible, but they fall from my face before I can hide them.

River is nothing but a blur of leather jacket and dark hair.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“You’re sorry?” he says and takes a step towards me. “I—fuck, I’m fucked up, okay? I’m not good at this stuff. I don’t do this stuff.”

Before I can ask what “stuff” he means, he’s in my space and wrapping his arms around me.

I immediately bury my face in his chest and relax in his hold.

His grip is tight around me and I can barely breathe with his chest pressed into my face, but I sob out my sorrow in his arms.

Part of me is mortified, but the other part is too drained to care.

So, we stand in my kitchen with the fluorescent lights illuminating us as I fall apart in his arms.

He’s murmuring something to me, but I can’t hear it. All I feel is the ache in my head and the searing pain in my chest.

I allow myself to be comforted, even if it will hurt in the end.

Any second now, I expect him to turn back into the River from hours earlier, when he wanted nothing to do with me.

But something incredible happens instead.

Just like Landon, his chest vibrates, and an Alpha purr resonates through him. Combined with his scent, it’s so comforting that I sag my weight against his chest, allowing him to embrace me fully.