Page 16 of Knot Your Business

His face pales as he reads over whatever list of potential Omegas the Council has assigned us.

My stomach revolts at just the thought. And seeing it affect Jasper like this? A growl rumbles through my chest, the possessive rage easily burning to life under my sternum. Not even the rut suppressor is enough to snuff it out completely.

“You promised me,” Jasper hisses.

I shove my hands into my pockets and lean against the back of the couch, letting them stay across the room. I have no desire to see the list, especially if whatever Jasper’s seen has him this distraught. And as angry as his reaction is making me right now? Best I stay away from Rylan.

“And I followed through,” Rylan snaps back. A muscle in his neck feathers as he clenches his jaw. “You left with us. When could I have possibly snuck off to talk with her again, Jasper?”

Jasper’s hands tremble as he shoves the list into Rylan’s chest. “And yet she’s on the fucking list, Rylan. The list that we can’t decline because it’s our first gala.”

Rylan’s growl is even louder than mine, the violence in it barely restrained. He flexes his hands at his sides even as he snarls. I push off the couch and cross the space, wrapping my arm around Jasper’s waist and pulling him against me. I kiss the spot where his jaw meets his neck, and he relaxes into me. His breathing is short and shallow, and the trembling moves to encompass his entire body. Like he’s scared for his life.

But why? Logically, there’s nothing terrible about shortlisting. Yeah, I’m pissed. It’ll be a disgusting amount of paperwork to get the match annulled if the Council actually selects us for one of the faceless names on the sheet of paper. But no amount of bureaucratic nightmare warrants this level of reaction.

“Why is it such a bad thing?” Rylan asks after several long moments. “What happened to us following through in good faith if we’re actually selected?”

Jasper shakes his head, and Rylan growls again.

“What the fuck happened between you?” he asks, spitting the question between clenched teeth.

“She’s the fucking Omega,” Jasper hisses, his voice breaking. The small omega symbol flashes in the light of the room as he pulls it away from his chest. “She ripped my heart out, and even now I still can’t quite manage to get over her. There’s no guarantee that Dominic’s maneuvering will work fast enough to keep us from having to see her if this goes through.”

Rylan takes a step back, his eyes wide.

“I’d rather fucking vomit on stage than do that,” Jasper admits, nearly sobbing in my arms. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I come face-to-face with her again. She… she was everything to me.”

The confession rings through the room. I tighten my hold on him, keeping him steady.

The Council better not make this permanent. Jasper in a mess like this? It has me ready to use all the lethal training at my disposal to avenge his torment. Killing Omegas is one of those things I absolutely detest. But whoever this woman is he’s describing? It sounds like I won’t feel all that sorry over this particular one.

“I’m sorry,” Rylan says at last. He blows out a breath. “I…” He shakes his head. “I have to go.”

Jasper collapses into me as the other part of our triad leaves the house, grabbing his guitar and other equipment without looking back.

“Dom…” His voice trails off.

I mess with the waistband of his sweats. “Let me distract you, Tesoro.”

Eight

VIOLET

The moment I’m clocked out, I strip out of my work shirt, tossing it into my bag and pulling on a simple black cut off hoodie before anyone else comes back to the stockroom. I brush through my hair and adjust my necklace, twisting it around my fingers a few times as I stare at the packet sitting just under my purse.

Two weeks since the gala. Since I’ve seen Rylan and thought maybe matching wouldn’t be completely awful. Since I heard Jasper tell him to stay away from me. Since he said I’d be the worst thing to ever happen to him. That fucking fourteen days was absolutely brutal. And the culmination sits in my bag.

Don’t be a fucking coward, Violet.

Easier said than done tonight.

It was nearly impossible to focus on work the last few hours of my shift. Why the Council sent the woman here instead of the school is as baffling as it is frustrating. I was prepared to handle the questioning gazes and whispered interest on the campus. But here, at the Rowdy Seahorse where I’ve been both waitress and bartender for the last two years? Where no one knows me as Johnathan Fallon’s daughter? Hell, half of them hadn’t even noticed I was an Omega thanks to the scent blockers I wear religiously.

Getting caught making out in one of the music rooms at the community college in Seattle was less embarrassing than fielding the woman in between managing two ten-tops tonight.

I grab the packet along with my other things and head toward the front of the restaurant.

Most of the patrons are gone, but there’s still a few tables occupied, and about half of the bar is full, the various televisions turned on to a few different baseball games. Someone cheers as I walk by the bar.

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