Page 37 of Knot Their Omega

“I agreed to take your group on with that agreement written in our contract. It’s written and signed by every artist under mymanagement,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone. “So, if you’ve decided you no longer want to respect and follow those terms and conditions, only say the word, and we can end things.”

No way. He’s willing to cut ties over this?!

I’m baffled because signing musical groups not only costs money, but they gain a heap ton when the money trickles down the hierarchy of music management. I’m sure Icarus, being the talent manager, gets a set percentage every month by default.

Regardless of whether he lets them go or not, all previous music created by the group, a percentage will always flow into his bank account. Either way, the little lump sum versus what he currently makes by supporting these groups to remain popular can be a whole tax bracket in difference.

“I-I don’t want to end things, but I want you to give us more opportunities,” he stresses. “How is it that Onyx Core has been able to secure deals with Vesper with a phone call and you can’t? Everyone in the music industry knows you. You’re sought out by talent across the world. We’ve worked hard as fuck this year, and you know getting a song from Vesper isn’t a handout. It’s a blessing that pays back twenty times!”

“If you believe that corporation of cocky Alphas who enjoy creating music with every intention of trash-talking Omegas like they’re at the bottom of the food scale is something to be compared or idolized, I encourage you to go get a contract from them,” Icarus suggests and has a bit of resolve in his voice.As though he’s already made his decision.“Did you ever think Vesper could potentially be an Omega?”

My heart is skipping so fast, I force my eyes to open to make sure I’m still alive. Noticing my surroundings are dark, I follow the only warm light, which seems to be in a corner just under a big television.

It’s a miniature fireplace, and I realize Icarus is standing in front of it. He’s angled in a way that allows the burning glow ofthe flames to flicker along his back, accenting the muscled lines and the plentiful tattoos.

I can drool if I look at them for too long, but what catches my attention is what he’s holding in his other hand. He’s moving between his fingertips again and again as if to distract himself from what he’d previously been doing.

He had to be pacing earlier. That’s why his voice was coming from one end and the other.

The familiar purple pick steals my attention, making me realize why I couldn’t find my guitar pick in my bag. I’m trying to figure out why he would have it, especially that specific one that’s a limited-edition guitar pick.

Fuck! I dropped it at the gym!

As if my mental realization tugs at Icarus’ senses, he looks over his shoulder, his hauntingly beautiful eyes locking on mine and widening in acknowledgment.

He took me from the alleyway into this safe space. Is this his place? Or a hotel? I don’t know where we are, but why would he help me?

We’re just strangers.

The side of me that never wants to get her hopes up is praying to be let down, but that Omega side of me dares to crave otherwise.

To be proven that this alluring Alpha who adores me with those sapphire eyes dares take an interest in me that’s beyond a one-night coincidence.

Laughter pierces through our intense connection, our attention moving to his hand that’s holding his phone, which is still on speaker.

Icarus shifts his gait, allowing me a better view of his six-pack while the shadows outline his massive frame. My mouth feels noticeably dry, making me suddenly thirsty.

Down under, on the other hand, is pooling with slick.

Goodness, am I even wearing underwear right now?

“Now you’re just talking madness, Icarus,” he announces with pride. My lips press together as this guy on the line goes off. “Blair Vesper is a talented Alpha whose been creating the most viral-selling songs in the industry. He thrives on the mysterious aspect of not meeting just anyone. No difference in how hard it is to get him to attend any public relations. Needless to say, such a unique, famous lyricist can’t be a weak-ass Omega. Their purpose is to be fucked and to raise children. Heck, they can even make us Alphas a sandwich while we do all the hard work. No Omegas should be thinking of having careers. They should do what they were born to do. Attend to their Alphas, who ensure they’re taken care of. We’re the ones who have to put a roof over their head. Are forced to buy unnecessary shit for them to look decent in society. Our Omega isn’t going to be like all these spoiled brats Omegas rejoicing over this new movement, but that’s a whole different conversation.”

I try not to show the weight of this man’s words due to my confidence, but my lips dip while I lower my gaze. It’s these moments that make me feel like such a submissive. Despite all my accomplishments, commitments, and dedicated actions, I’m only looked at by the label forced upon me at birth.

I didn’t choose to be an Omega.

I doubt anyone would choose to be what most Alphas deem a sex slave, a sandwich maker. Heck, they aren’t even proud to call us wives and mothers most of the time.

I never wanted this, but what choice was given to me? None.

The Omega part of me just wants to shrivel up into a tiny ball and poof away like most Alphas wish for us. It’s amazing how they enjoy the sexual benefits and flaunt us when it benefits them, but other than that, we’re nothing but an accessory that gives pleasure from time to time.

Why was I expecting this movement to change the reality that most Alphas are douchebags?

“So, no. Blair Vesper isn’t an Omega, and if the mere idea of him being a male Omega came out, his whole career would go to ruins. No one would want to give their money to someone like that. The idea is pure mockery.” He laughs to further emphasize his point. “So why don’t we get back to the point of trying to get a song from him? If we raise funds, could we possibly make an inquiry?”

I come to realize that’s not the reason for my disappointment.

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