Page 16 of Knot All is Forgiven

"You still haven't, Jordan."

Wrinkling my nose, I look up at the doctor, who is admittedly extremely handsome but also so close that it is disorienting. "Why are you in bed with me?"

"Do you want to keep asking questions, or can I just tell you what's happening?" He pins me with a challenging look that makes me want to argue just for the sake of it. I sit up, pointing at the end of the bed. He chuckles and moves to sit on the end of the bed, giving me the space to sit up.

"Tell me, then."

"What do you remember?"

I roll my eyes. "This isn't telling me anything, Vick. I remember grocery shopping, having a headache, and being tired."

"Don't call me Vick," he says half-heartedly. "You passed out at the grocery store a few hours ago. They brought you in here. We're not exactly sure what happened, but you were right, Jordan."

My heart stops beating. I don't want to assume. I heard that word when I was first waking up. Or I thought I did. "Rightabout what?" It's hard not to beg him to tell me the words I've been dying to hear for sixteen years.

"You're an Omega, Jordan."

My head falls back on the pillows, and I stare at the bright, incandescent lighting.

I'm an Omega.

I fucking knew it. I always knew it. And sure, I may be the latest presenting Omega in history, but that makes me no less of an Omega.

A firm hand clasps my ankle, and I lock eyes with the only person who ever believed me. "That's not all," he says quietly. "But I'm afraid what I have to tell you next might not be well received."

I cringe at his words. "I'm still defective?"

He chuckles, moving a little closer to me. Before I can comprehend what he's doing, he holds his wrist close to my face.

Eucalyptus and cucumber.

I wrap my hand around his arm, pulling him closer and burying my face in his neck. He mirrors me, taking a deep breath that I can feel feathering against my skin. After a minute, I whisper into his flesh, "Is this what I think it is?"

He chuckles, pulling back and resting his forehead on mine. "Yeah, Jordan, it is."

"You're my scent match?"

"I'm your scent match."

"That means…" My voice trails off, and my mind spins. I have a scent match. A handsome, successful, lone Alpha. The way his hands rest, wrapped around my body, is so respectful, so gentle. I squeeze my eyes shut.

This must be a dream.

I've finally lost all of my marbles in the dust bunnies under my couch, and my brain has invented a scenario where the hot doctor I saw earlier is now meant to be with me.

It's not real.

"It's real," he whispers. I didn't realize I said that out loud. When I open my eyes, I am assaulted with his scent and the intensity of his dark green eyes as he stares at me. "You're mine, Omega."

I can feel his words in my very being, running through my veins and rewriting every evening I spent worrying I'd be alone.

"Yours," I sigh.

It feels so fucking good to be someone's.

He pulls me into his arms, and we lay there, entwined in one another. We don't speak. It's not that we have nothing to say to one another. On the contrary, we have so much to learn about each other that I don't know where to start. But right now, it's like we want our bodies to learn each other on a molecular level as our breaths intermingle and our pulses synchronize.

"Dr. Valentine," a firm voice says as she enters the room. The stern-looking nurse practically screeches to a stop. "Dr. Valentine! Hands off the Omega before I call security!"

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