Page 24 of Knot As It Seems

“You can, actually. Nobody outside this pack has a mating contract or something with you I’m unaware of, do they?”

“You’re going to think it’s dumb.”

Where the hell is she going with this? “I hardly think so. Not if it’s something important to you.”

“Do you mean that? You hated me yesterday.”

“Did not. I was confused and concerned and a whole lot of con-other things. I’m not always the best at responses in tense situations and I wasn’t sure at first what your situation really was. Might have let Moon’s dumbass opinions influence me too much, so I’m sorry if I gave off a hint of hating you. I was enthralled by you, actually. Enchanted. Enticed.”

“You really like the word play, don’t you?”

“Just tell me what you need, sweetheart. Please. I like being needed by you.”

“I’ve never really had anyone to take care of me before in my life, was never offered much in the way of education or exposed to new ideas, but there’s one thing I’ve always held onto, something that’s important to me. I don’t ever want to be knotted or tended by an alpha that’s not serious about me.”

“Done. You’re fucking mine. What else?”

She shakes her head, crossing her arms over herself. I can tell she’s feeling vulnerable, so I run my palms up her thighs slowly in what I hope is a calming manner.

“I want commitment before I get physical. It meanssomething to me because I know alphas don’t have the same biological drives omegas do to form attachments.”

“Bullshit.”

“I just—what? No. We’re whiny and needy and clingy and—”

“And in all the time I was with what I thought was my scent matched omega, I never once wanted to make a commitment as badly as I do now. I will quite literally do anything you need me to do to help you feel settled and safe. Nothing is too much to ask for.”

“I don’t expect it from you guys.”

“Well, you should. Wait, we are talking about a mating bite, right?”

She nods, adorable, delicate brow furrowing. “Yes, but…”

I lift up her wrist, then the other one, running a thumb along each one. “Pick one.”

She starts spluttering again, trying to scurry away, so clearly, she hasn’t learned her lesson yet. She’s not going anywhere.

I end up spinning us over so I’m pinning her to the ground, her wide, expressive eyes staring up at me with her hair all fanned out around her. “You can’t bite me, we just met.”

I lean over her, not hiding the groans at how delicious she smells as I run my nose along her throat. Now my hair is getting in the way, but I leave it. “Or perhaps up here?” I ask, nibbling at her throat.

She’s getting needy again, wiggling her hips and trying to discreetly press herself against me.

“What part of ‘you’re my scent match’ isn’t getting through to you? Do you think I’m holding out for another option? Baby, you’re the best damn thing that’s ever going to walk into my life. You think I need to calmly and rationally decide to claim you after we spend some bullshit acceptable amount of time together? Because it’s not going to change my mind. I’m a fucking alpha, and I know what I want. If you don’t think you want this, then tell me now, because I have less than zero qualms about claiming you right here and now if it means you’ll feel more settled. Granted, I’d rather you be somewhere soft and comfortable for this, but there’s something kind of hot about doing it in a storage closet, hidden from the world, don’t you think?”

Fourteen

There’s an imaginary road stretching in front of me, one I haven’t had reason to think much about.

One direction has me stuttering out some nonsense about needing time, about not knowing him, about not being healed enough to take joy from something physical.

But the other? Oh, she is a heady fucking bitch curled up and pulling me in the other direction. Fast. Also, reminding me I just got a fresh birth control shot at my daddy alpha Jos’ checkup. I could give in, she tells me, let the hot alpha have his wicked way with me and ease the pain in a way that’s never been eased before.

Choices, choices.

Gods, the idea of just sinking onto a thick alpha cock for once instead of making do with painfully small fingers, in a workshop that reeks of rich teakwood and sweaty alpha, has my thighs clenching tightly around him underneath me.

It’s not enough. I’m too empty.