Page 11 of Knot As It Seems

Anderson smirks at how bold I sound with such little fight left in me. “Not going anywhere, Omega.”

When I don’t correct Anderson, Jos scoffs. “What,hegets to call you omega? How is that fair?”

I crawl out of my bed, then get an idea I can’t let go of. Underneath my top ratty blanket and stuffed around my little nest are pieces of clothing that Winslow gave me from the guys to get my scent to spike. Let’s see how they like getting it back.

“Both of you, git. And the rest of you in the hall, back off. I’m coming out but I need a second to…change.”

Jos eyes me warily, but they’ve proved that hiding won’t work anymore. They must see how positively weak I am. I stare at Jos with my head tilted, daring him to give me trouble for a very reasonable request.

He leans forward the scant few inches we’ve got left and has the audacity to scent mark me before crawling out. Anderson doesn’t exit until he’s done the same, trying his best to cover up Jos’s scent.

The rest of the pack disappears from my line of sight, so I do in fact change. Don’t really feel like leaving the house for the first time in years wearing the dress I almost died in earlier. I don’t know if I believe in the exchanges of cosmic energies or not, but that seems like a bad idea.

I only have a handful of castoffs from Winslow, but I do the best I can to look somewhat presentable before unearthing all my treasures.

In my head, it’s safe to call them that, because these itemsof clothing were the only thing to really bring me any sort of comfort. I might not have had any alphas to hold me and guide me through my heats, but on the nights when I couldn’t get out of my head long enough to stop feeling sorry for myself, I’d let myself enjoy the soothing scents for the luxuries they were.

It feels wrong to dismantle my nest, but I’m getting the feeling that I won’t be coming back here for a while. I don’t even know where these guys live; Winslow made it seem like they were not from Trash Haven.

With arms full, I take a deep breath and walk out, feeling something tear inside of me. Whether that tear will make me stronger eventually or disable me further, is yet to be seen.

Nine

“Would you stop fucking pacing? These floors are worn out enough as it is. Don’t need her demanding we fix them next,” Moon barks at me, smacking my shoulder.

I think the fuck not. I crowd into him until his back is to the wall and I’m breathing the air he wanted for himself. “Don’t tell me what the fuck to do. This is all your fucking fault. Everything we’re dealing with is your fucking fault.”

His jaw drops open, his eyes bug out and I recognize the look for what it is; he wants to hit me. Badly. “How the hell is thismyfault?”

I growl, pushing him even further into the wall. “Because Winslow was your fucking fault. Remember when we met her and I wanted nothing at all to fucking do with her and you persuaded me to give her a chance? Told me to just try her out and see what happened? Remember when you shoved my dick in her and made sure I felt how tight she was for me? I could have run, Moon. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t be fucking pining for an omega that is onestrong wind away from collapsing and never getting back up. I don’t want to feel like this. I’m not supposed to have an omega. Winslow was…I think we can agree she wasn’t a real omega.”

Oh shit, Moon does not like that at all.

Good.

Omegas shouldn’t stifle screams of pain when you knot them at their insistence. Omegas shouldn’t be so lucid when in heat. Omegas should crave their alphas around the clock and be possessive as shit about them. Winslow was never an omega, though her scent was confusing enough to trick us all into believing otherwise.

Now that I’ve smelled the real thing from the source, I’m pissed at myself for falling for Winslow. Her taste never quite matched her scent, and that should have been yet another red flag.

Now I’ve got this…frail omega that I want to help, and that shit is dangerous for so many damn reasons. I don’t need this responsibility in my life right now. I just escaped the last one.

“Don’t want me, huh? I think the feeling is mutual,” the mouthy omega snarls at me as she escapes from her hole.

My knees lock into place when I fully see her for the first time, my breathing accelerates, and I know my fists are clenching and unclenching because my arms want her in them, but I’m not in a mood to grant wishes.

“Here. These are yours, I believe.” She throws a pair of sweats at me I haven’t seen in years, then one by one, smells the remaining pieces of clothing in her arms and subtly inhales each of our scents and matches them allperfectly.

Another fucking thing. Winslow never could tell our scents apart, said she had some sort of condition that affected her nose sensitivity.

I may be pissed at Moon, but I’m even more pissed at myself, and I don’t even know what to do with all this anger. There’s too much of it.

I stare down at the sweats in my hands, layered with Fable’s—gods, even her fuckingnameis perfect— floral berry scent, and the alpha in me is ready to rage.

The last time I wore these pants was so damn long ago that I can’t really pinpoint when it was, but I do know it was close to the beginning of our courtship with Winslow. She had just started stealing clothing from us, and we thought it was so cute to have an omega that wanted our scents at her home, a home she refused to let us in, that she wanted a piece of us with her. She was always so tough and guarded, but sometimes softness would break through and would make it all worth it.

Moon knows he never forced me to hook up with Winslow that first time. She was so damn beautiful, and I knew she was dangerous as hell, because her eyes communicated exactly how she wanted to chew us up and spit us out, but we were alphas, right? We could handle it. We figured she was a beta at first, but then the scent started blooming the more we hung out with her, and it was obvious she was ours.

Except, she wasn’t.