Page 47 of Knot All is Forgiven

"You're… pack," I say quietly. I clear my throat and rise to my feet. "You're pack."

He huffs, crossing his arms over his sculpted chest and opening his mouth to argue. But no words come out. I know he feels it. The draw to a packmate is inexplicable, something in our DNA pushing us together. I didn't recognize it at first because it's been a decade and a half since I felt a new one, but there's no denying that's what this is.

I don't know this man, but every part of me tells me I need to. There is no doubt that this man is pack. His being scent matched to Jordan confirms it.

Eventually, his voice comes back. "No. I am not pack. Jordan is not yours. You need to leave."

He moves to close the door when I hear a beautiful, light voice calling, "Alpha, who's at the door?"

My heart stops at the voice I've longed to hear for thirteen years.

"No one," he replies with clipped words, trying to close the door. I wedge my foot in it, wincing when he tries to slam it. "Get lost," he hisses at me.

"Let me talk to her, please," I beg, my voice tight with tears. "Please, I just need to see her and know she's okay."

Suddenly, the door flies open, and I lock eyes with the woman I have been in love with for over half my life.

Jordan's wavy, red hair is gathered on top of her head in a messy bun, and a loose, grey sweater that looks softer than sin hangs off her shoulder. Her long legs are bare, and a tiny pair of shorts barely stick out of the hem of her sweater.

And her scent.

Fuck.

It hits me like a tidal wave.

Peach milkshakes.

From the first time we were allowed to go to the diner on our own, we couldn't have been more than eleven, she ordered peach milkshakes. That's why I've always called her peaches.

Seeing her, her jaw slack, her eyes wide, takes me to my knees. Tears join the blood traveling down my face as I stare up at the woman I loved and lost.

I've wondered if she'd recognize me after all these years. With the hair and the tattoos, I'm a far cry from the boy who left her.

But I shouldn't have worried.

Her soul knows mine. It always has.

"Simon," she says quietly. I can't place the tone. Is she happy to see me? Sad? Angry? I don't care how she feels – I just want to be on the receiving end of her attention. "Chocolate malt," she mutters, shaking her head. "Chocolate malt."

My milkshake order.

What's the likelihood we both smell like our milkshake orders to one another if we weren't always meant to be together?

She was destined to be mine.

"Peaches," I whisper, moving forward on my knees closer to her. She doesn't step back but slides behind the Alpha in the doorway. "I missed you so much."

"No."

I stop moving even though every part of me wants to grab her, to bite her, to make it to where I'm never without her again. "No?"

"You don't get to do this. You don't get to break my heart, leave me, and suddenly appear the day I present as an Omega." She shakes her head, taking a step back into her condo. "You already have an Omega. Go be with them. That's what you wanted. Beta Jordan was never enough for you."

The day she presented as an Omega? There's too much going on at once to process that, so I file it away for later before I fight to refute her last statement.

"That's not how it was!" My voice cracks. "Please, you just have to hear me out."

The Alpha has been silent until now, letting Jordan handle herself, but now he steps fully in front of her. "Leave my Omega alone. Go live your life. Don't bother us again."

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