Page 108 of Knot a Bad Idea

He looks at me tenderly, and I swallow nervously.

“May I talk to you privately?” he asks, and Liam and Hunter both turn to me.

The ball is in my court.

I could tell him to fuck off and leave me alone, and I know he would listen.

He waits patiently, holding my gaze.

“You don’t just mail someone a box of locks without having a discussion afterward, do you?” I ask lowly, and he shakes his head and chuckles.

“So that’s what you did with them,” Hunter grumbles. “You psycho.”

Donovan’s gaze flicks to Hunter, then back to me. He extends his hand, and I stare at it, unsure.

“We don’t have to,” he says softly. “It’s all on your terms. Whatever you want.”

But I catch the slight tremor in his fingers and the way his throat bobs.

Donovan Axton is nervous, and it’s enough to make me take his hand.

We walkalong the beach in silence for a few minutes, listening to the string quartet playing contemporary pop love songs.

It’s a clever choice by Kelly, but judging by the wince on Donovan’s face, I can tell he hates it.

Hilarious.

“This is a lovely location,” I say after a while, deciding to be the first one to break the silence.

He nods. “It’s not where I would choose to get married,” he says finally.

“Where would you choose?”

He stops and looks at me pointedly. “Wherever my wife wanted to go,” he says quietly.

I swallow. The intensity and possessiveness in his eyes make me want to run.

But my inner Omega wants to stay, ready to beg him to knot me on the beach.

The pre-Heat symptoms arenasty.

“We need to talk about the locks,” I say, veering the conversation away from dangerous territory.

He nods. “I didn’t know what else to do to show you that will never, ever happen again.”

I shake my head. “I brought up a difficult conversation for you once, and you shut me out. Metaphorically and physically. That will never,ever, be okay with me, Donovan.”

He winces. “I know.”

“I want to forgive you,” I say slowly. “But you need to be honest with me.”

He stops walking and turns to me, the ocean at his back. “When things go poorly and they’re out of my control, I blame myself. I always have.” He looks away from me, pain in his eyes as he exhales deeply. “I blamed myself for my mother’s death. I blame myself for Liam’s anxiety.”

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “What—you can’t?—”

“Rationally, IknowI can’t fix or change those things,” he says quietly. “But my mind—myheart, or whatever the fuck you want to call it—wants to. And it makes me pissed off. It makes me angry, so I just…shut down. I shut off.”

The wind blows as I process his words.