Knotted By The Devilish Alpha Brothers

Chapter 23: Chapter 23: scratch that

Skye gave her a long, flat look.

"Are you a child?"

Amelia’s cheeks burned. "How do ropes and chains have any connection with sex?"

Skye let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Yep." She nodded once, her expression deadpan. "You’re definitely a child."

She exhaled heavily and ran a hand through her short white hair, the strands sticking up slightly from the friction. Her shoulders sagged with something that looked almost like resignation.

"Whatever you think sex is... scratch it out. Completely. The men from this place do it very differently. It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s not anything you’ve read about in those little research sessions of yours. It’s—" She paused, searching for the right words. "It’s primal. It’s raw. It’s about power and control and taking what they want. They don’t ask. They don’t negotiate. They take."

Amelia’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want to imagine it. She pressed her lips together and looked away, focusing on the floorboards instead of Skye’s face.

A soft tock... tock... tock cut through the silence.

Both women turned toward the sound.

Skye crossed the room in a few quick strides and crouched near the corner where the silver bird rested on the folded cloth. Her green eyes widened.

"Woah. This is new. Where did you get this bird?"

Amelia moved closer, careful not to put too much weight on her sore leg.

"It was injured. It came to me for help."

Skye reached out a careful hand, fingers extended toward the bird’s silver feathers. The creature’s head snapped forward and pecked sharply at her fingers, its beak striking with surprising speed. Its feathers bristled, fluffing up as if warning her to stay back. Skye jerked her hand away with a small hiss, shaking her fingers as if to dislodge the sting.

"Ow. Okay. Got it." She glared at the bird, but there was no real anger in her eyes. "I’ve never seen any bird like this."

Amelia’s brows drew together. "So it’s not from here?"

"Yeah." Skye sat back on her heels, still eyeing the creature. "This one probably came from quite far. Wherever it lives, it really enjoys its privacy." She rubbed her sore fingers. "And its personal space."

Amelia stepped forward and slowly lowered her hand. Her fingers brushed the soft silver feathers on the bird’s head. The creature remained still, allowing the touch without protest.

Skye watched the exchange, one corner of her mouth lifting in a dry, resigned smile.

"I guess the problem is me then." She shook her head, a rueful chuckle escaping her lips. "Figures. Even birds hate me."

She straightened and nodded toward Amelia’s leg.

"Get that treated properly. Don’t just ignore it. I’ve seen too many people lose limbs because they thought a little scrape wasn’t worth their time. Let’s exchange numbers anyway."

Amelia hesitated, then pulled out the new phone Enzo had given her. They exchanged numbers quickly, Skye’s fingers tapping with efficient speed.

"Good luck," Skye said, already heading for the door. The words carried a weight that felt heavier than simple politeness. Then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

Silence settled over the room again.

Amelia limped to the bathroom, each step sending a dull pulse of pain through her shin. She retrieved the first-aid kit from the cabinet where she’d left it and sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath her weight.

She cleaned the sore spot on her leg with careful, measured movements, her hands steady despite the lingering tremor of adrenaline. The antiseptic stung, sharp and biting, and she hissed through her teeth. She applied a thin layer of ointment, the cool gel soothing against the angry red skin, then wrapped it in a clean bandage, securing the ends with practiced precision.

The sting faded into a dull throb, manageable and distant.

Once finished, she lay back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

I need to sleep. Maybe if I close my eyes long enough, I’ll wake up somewhere else. Or maybe this is already a dream. That would explain everything.

Her body, still exhausted, pulled her under before she could argue with herself any further.

The dream came heavy and vivid.

Her wrists were bound high above her head, the ropes biting into her skin as she hung suspended in the air. Cool air brushed over every inch of her naked body. Three pairs of eyes watched her—hungry, intense, dark with something that made her pulse hammer. They looked like they wanted to devour her whole.

"Don’t eat me," she whispered in the dream. "Please... don’t eat me."

The words tore from her throat as she jolted awake, sitting upright in the bed, heart racing. Her hands flew to her chest, pressing against her pounding heart as if she could physically slow it down.

"Don’t eat me—"

The room was quiet.

Just a dream. Only a dream. But the images lingered, sticky and unwanted. Even her nightmares had started following her into sleep.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and checked the time on the phone. 4:00 a.m.

There was no chance she was going back to sleep. Not if that dream was waiting for her again.

She moved through her morning routine slowly—washing her face with cool water, brushing her teeth, changing into a fresh set of clothes in the closet. The simple actions grounded her, pushing the dream further away.

When she finished, she crossed the room to check on the silver bird. It was still asleep, head tucked lightly into its feathers, bandaged legs stretched carefully along the cloth.

Amelia crouched down, studying it.

It hasn’t eaten since yesterday.

She needed to find something for it.

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