Page 8 of Trick Knot Treat

The behemoth glares at me, then transfers his gaze to the fence. I slide sideways, my eyes widening as it gets bigger and fucking bigger the closer it gets. Who the hell breeds dogs this big? It should be illegal. It’s not even a dog! This is a colossus! A whale in a fur suit. A polar fucking bear here to rip me apart.

“Arrooo.”

Oh, sure, it aroos. Yeah, like it’s so freaking cute, but I can see the gleam in its evil eyes. One chomp of those finger-length teeth and my head splits open like a rock melon. A tongue bigger than one of those cards mum likes to mail rolls out of its mouth, splattering the fence with saliva. This dog could drown a person with one lick.

I’m actually going to die. Will he leave some remains so Asher knows what happened to me? God, I hope so!

He looks at the fence, then at me, as if suddenly realising why I’m here. There is no way this giant yeti knows what I’m doing here. He’s just a dog. There’s no mastermind buried in white fur in that dog suit.

I bare my teeth. He silently does the same, and you know what? I will never admit it, but he wins. Those are ice picks in his mouth, massive, bone breaking teethy pegs that will rip me apart.

There is no winning. There is losing and losing gracefully.

I swear, this dog has more hair than Cordie, Asher, and Sofia put together. It’s pure white, and I think if he stood up, he would be as tall as me or taller. See, pure polar bear. What the fuck is it doing here in Australia?

I should not be feeling threatened by a dog.

He looks at the fence and aroo’s louder.

“Listen here, you-”

“Spectre?”

Her voice sends panic streaking into me, and before I can think about the plan, I’m plastered to the fence, hiding. Again.

What is wrong with me?

Just say hello, just shove off the fence and say hello, you damn coward.

She jumps at the fence, hanging from it, peering over and smiling. “Spectrey, you look so handsome tonight.”

The dog prances, swishing that fur-infected tail back and forth like it’s a flag of surrender. I would give anything to be that dog right now.

Aroorooroo.

Stupid dog. I hate him on principle.

“Here you go, but don’t tell your grumpy dad that I gave you that, okay? He might yell at me again.”

Zaire yelled at her? He’s dead. I will kill him myself with a spoon. I’m so lost in my outrage that I miss her retreat until it’s just me and the dog in the dark, staring at each other again.

“You are going to share,” I snarl. “I’ve been stalking her for a year. She was mine first.”

I swear, the dog silently judges me as a coward before he turns, completely unthreatened, and walks away.

Right. I stalk back into the house, go to the bathroom, flush the toilet, then go back out to the lounge.

“Cheers for having me. It’s been fun. See you…” I pretend to think, “on the dates.”

“Hey now!” Clint protests from where he’s slouched on the couch. The tension in the room goes up as I level him with my best glare. “Don’t you want to eat? Omegas need to eat, right?”

I curl my lip, disgusted at these alphas all over again. I don’t give a crap that they are my scent matches. They haven’t been mine all this time, why would I suddenly become exactly what they want now? I refuse to be packed up with Clint McGowen and Jace Harmody. It’s not like I was ever good enough to hang with them before. I spent a few years trying, and no, that’s over with.

“No.”

My sharp tone is full of the cold, cutting bitterness I’ve been carrying all this time. I wasn’t cool, I was geeky and came with a Sol reputation I never felt I measured up to, but I never wanted them to find out just how much they got to me.

The doorbell rings, and Zaire gets up with a deep growl and opens it. For a moment, I’m caught in the utterly mesmerizing movements of the foul-tempered alpha, but then the air whooshes into the house, and all I can smell is woodsmoke and coffee, his scent. Which is cleaner and so much more pleasant than I thought it would be.