languid stance. "Toss me a pillow, would you?"
Josie threw him the one she was holding. "Do you want a blanket too?"
"Nah." The floorboards creaked as he lay down, stretching out as though he was lying on cushions and not oak. "I got plenty warm cleaning up out there."
No doubt. Well, at least he'd gone outside to do what needed doing. That was a good sign…wasn't it?
So why was Josie experiencing what felt suspiciously like disappointment? Probably just the product of an adrenaline rush and staying up way too late. No doubt she'd be back to her old self in the morning.
She was about to say good night when she realized that this was a good opportunity—maybe her only one—to ask Knox the question that had been at the back of her mind for a while now, one she had no right to know the answer to. If she asked now, she could excuse its inappropriateness as the result of being rattled.
"Hey, Knox."
"Yeah."
"I was thinking about something."
He was silent for a moment before speaking. "What's that?"
"I was wondering why you don't want an omega?"
An even longer silence. "I like my life the way it is."
Josie was disappointed—just about every guy she knew used that excuse when explaining why they didn't want anything serious. For some reason, she'd hoped that maybe alphas were different. "You just said tonight how nice it was having someone around to talk to," she pointed out.
"Sure. It's nice for a week or two, but mating is for life."
Another evasive answer—but Josie wasn't ready to let it drop. "Are you afraid you'll get bored?"
"Not with the omega," Knox clarified reluctantly. "But with the life she'd want me to lead. You know, settling down. Wouldn't be fair to her or me."
Well, at least he was honest, which was more than Josie could say about most of the men she'd dated.
"Makes sense." Josie burrowed down under the soft fur blanket. "Good night, Knox."
But after a few seconds, he spoke again. "Josie…that wasn't actually what you were thinking about was it?."
She bit her lip before answering. "No."
"Didn't think so." The floorboards groaned as he rolled over on his side. "Maybe you'll wake up with the courage to ask me what you really want to know."
The heat returned to Josie's cheeks, but in the darkness, she didn't bother fighting it. Maybe…but un-fucking-likely.
Chapter Twelve
When Josie was awakened by the warmth of a beam of golden sunlight falling across her face, the house was completely silent. There were none of Knox's heavy footsteps that, no matter how hard he tried to be quiet, still shook the rafters. No sounds of tools being taken from their pegs or dishes stacked in the cupboard or the heavy iron door of the cookstove opening and closing.
Astonishingly, Josie had slept later than the alpha for the first time. Sure, his bed was ridiculously comfortable, with its sprawling mattress and downy pillows and warm fur blankets, all of them oversized so that she felt like she was floating in a cloud of cozy bliss. But Josie was pretty sure that wasn't the only reason she was still lying here when the sun was high in the sky.
As uncomfortable as it was to admit it to herself, there was something about the faint scent of Knox clinging to the linens that quieted and calmed her more than a fistful of Ambien ever could. More subtle than the cologne favored by the politicians and bureaucrats she often went up against, and also much more pleasant than the odor of her fellow protestors after a few days out in the streets, it was a complex mixture of mossy woods and rain-drenched earth and other unfamiliar notes redolent of minerals and bark and roots.
Over the past week spent in constant proximity to Knox, he'd gone from causing her anxiety to relieving her of it. In addition to his scent, there was the way his deep, rumbling voice enveloped her like a comforting blanket, soothing away the worst of her fears with its timbre, regardless of the words he chose.
In fact, this particular bed in this simple, remote cabin was the most comfortable and comforting place that Josie had ever slept. No wonder Knox liked to sleep in—if this were her bed, she'd linger too.
But it wasn't her bed, Josie reminded herself. Just as this wasn't her room, or her cabin, or her life. She was only a guest, offered shelter here temporarily by a stranger not usually given to generosity.
After the heated dreams