Page 49 of Knot Their Starlet

Maybe she should be angrier. Especially since it seems she doesn’t have anyone to get angry on her behalf.

“I thought it was just because you didn’t want to be found out. Then I thought it was because you didn’t want to affect Beck’s career,” she says, pursing her lips together. She glances over her shoulder at Leo, who’s still there, watching our every move. She leans forward, pitching her voice lower. “But you’re in love with him, aren’t you? That’s why you’re acting like this?”

My breath catches in my throat.

Holy fuck.

Omegas are mind readers.

CHAPTER 11

Andromeda

I’ve hit the nail on the head. It’s written, clear as day, on his face.

Elijah’s expressions, at least when I’m around him, always seem to be different shades of anger.

“How did you—were you listening? What did you hear?” he sputters.

“I heard the tail end of it,” I shrug, running my tongue along the inside of my cheek when I remember him mentioning how difficult it was for him to watch Beck and I during the photoshoot. “But I would’ve come to the same conclusion even if I hadn’t.”

He stares at me, dumbstruck.

Well, I guess dumbstruck is better than anger.

The wariness that seemed to have been slammed deep into my brain after Ezra slammed my head into the counter isn’t something I’ve been able to shake yet.

I should get over it. I’ve always been able to get over shit quickly. I had to, growing up with my mother. One second she’d be screaming, the next she’d be fine, as long as she got what she wanted.

And if you couldn’t catch up with her mood, she’d go right back to being pissed. As a little kid, I’d done whatever I could to keep her happy.

Maybe this is different. For all her faults, she was never physically violent. She’d bring that up all the time.

I’m glad Leo insisted he was staying. I don’t think I would’ve asked him to. I’m not used to asking for help.

“Do you... think he knows?” Elijah murmurs, his voice much softer than I’ve ever heard it.

I blink at the massive alpha. Now he’s asking me questions? When all our previous conversations have ended up with us at each other’s throats?

Now, because I’m useful to him, he’s asking me whether a boy likes him, like we’re good girlfriends?

My chamomile scent turns bitter with resentment. But the question still bounces around in my brain.

Maybe this is what I need: an in, something to prove that I’m not the threat this guy seems to think I am. This is the way things will go for the rest of my life. I’ve got to be useful. If I’m not, then I’m replaceable.

“I don’t know,” I say slowly. “You guys have known each other forever, right? I think he’s so consumed with how much is changing that he hasn’t slowed down to see what’s in front of him.”

That much was obvious based on the way Beck reacted to Elijah’s earlier question. I’d hate to be these two. They both seem to be dancing around this thing between them for different reasons.

I’m not going to pretend to understand.

It’s not like I’m good at picking them, considering what happened to me.

It’s an especially bitter pill to swallow, knowing that I’m going to go home tonight to my empty apartment and feel that all-consuming, gnawing loneliness.

Elijah slumps back into the wall behind him, looking small and lost.

It’s the first glimpse of the man underneath the anger. No, not the man, the boy.