Knotted By The Devilish Alpha Brothers

Chapter 32: Chapter 32: i want to play with you

Dean recovered in a fraction of a second. His body moved before his mind caught up, crossing the space between them in three quick strides. He slammed her back against the wall, one forearm pressed across her chest, pinning her in place. The impact echoed through the room.

He didn’t waste time wondering how she had caught the dagger mid-air. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was here, in his room, in the dead of night, and she had no business being here.

Amelia only smiled wider, eyes still closed, that dreamy expression never leaving her face.

"You’ve really lost your touch."

His hand closed around her throat. The deal they had made with her meant nothing in this moment. If she died here, his brothers would simply find another pawn and clean up the mess.

But Amelia didn’t struggle. Her pulse was steady beneath his fingers, calm and unhurried.

"I just want to talk," she said softly, her voice carrying an edge of something almost maternal. "Don’t make me force you to stand down."

Dean’s voice was low and cold. "I knew you were a spy all this time. Where are the rest of the enemies?"

Something in Amelia’s expression shifted—a subtle change, barely perceptible. Her hand rose, closed around his wrist, and—with a strength that should have been impossible—pried his fingers from her throat as if they were nothing. Dean’s eyes widened.

She had been hiding this. She was far more deceptive than i had imagined.

With a light, almost casual push, she sent him flying backward. He hit the bed hard, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. Before he could rise, Amelia was already on top of him, both hands pressed to his chest. The pressure was crushing. He couldn’t move. His arms refused to obey.

"I know your weak points," she murmured.

Her fingers brushed through his long silver-black hair, the touch gentle and almost affectionate.

"Still as beautiful as I remember."

She saw the lethal look on his face and laughed softly, a sound that was almost tender.

"I mean no harm. This is just a warning... or maybe more of a plea."

She leaned down until their faces were only inches apart. Something unfamiliar stirred in Dean’s chest—something sharp and unwelcome. Nervousness. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt nervous.

"Treat me a little better from now on," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. "I understand you have trust issues, but tone it down a notch when it comes to me. I wouldn’t want to come and ask you again... because if I do..."

She cupped his face. A strange spark raced through his body at the contact, as if his skin recognized her touch even though his mind did not.

"I’ll tell everyone about the butt-shaped mole on your ass."

Dean’s entire body went rigid. His mind went blank.

How does she know that?

Not even his brothers knew. He had always hated the small, ridiculous mark and refused to have it removed simply because removing it would mean admitting it existed. The chances of anyone ever seeing it were supposed to be zero.

Amelia smiled at the pure shock on his face, her lips curving with satisfaction.

"I know how embarrassed you are about it. You don’t even want your brothers to know."

She leaned in and pressed a light peck to his cheeks—soft, brief, almost playful.

"Sleep tight."

Then her fingers moved with precise, practiced speed, striking several points along his torso and neck. Instantly his limbs went completely limp. He could still see and hear, but his body refused every command, trapped in a cage of his own flesh.

"It’ll wear off in six hours," she said gently. "Rest."

She climbed off him and walked toward the door

Dean forced the words out. "Who are you?"

Amelia paused in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder, eyes still closed, that same soft smile on her lips. "I am your obsession."

Then she stepped out into the dark corridor and headed back toward her own room.

The moment the door of her own room closed behind her, Amelia pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart was still beating too fast, too strong. She needed to sleep again—but first...

She crossed the room to the corner where the silver bird rested. The moment her presence drew near, the bird’s eyes opened. It recognized her immediately.

Amelia sank to her knees, carefully scooped the bird into her arms, and held it close.

"You found me," she whispered against its soft feathers. "I’m so happy."

The bird made a small, quiet sound. "I hope I haven’t been giving you too much trouble," she murmured.

It shook its head once.

Amelia smiled faintly. "That’s bad. You should be expecting more trouble from now on."

The bird gave her a look that could only be described as thoroughly unimpressed, as if it was already tired of her nonsense. A soft laugh slipped from her.

"I wish I could get my memories back already," she said, voice quieter now. "But that would overwhelm me. I have to take it slow. I hope you’ll be patient with me... no matter how dumb I sound."

A sudden wave of weakness rolled through her body. Her arms lost their strength. She gently set the bird back down on its cloth nest, no longer able to even make it to the bed.

"Goodnight, Swifty," she whispered. "Until we meet again."

Then she simply tipped sideways onto the floor and slipped back into deep sleep.

***

Hours later, persistent knocking dragged her awake.

Amelia’s eyes opened slowly. A dull headache pulsed behind her temples. She blinked at the ceiling, then realized she was lying on the hard floor beside the bed.

When did I end up here?

The knocking continued, sharp and insistent. She pushed herself up, crossed the room on unsteady legs, and saw her door handle was broken. Huh? She couldn’t think much of it because of the knocking and managed to open the door.

A servant stood there, flanked by two guards. The servant’s expression was carefully blank.

"Your presence is needed."

Amelia’s stomach tightened. A bad feeling settled over her at once.

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