Page 6 of Knot All is Forgiven

The room is a blank slate, with cream walls and a wide, empty circle a few steps down into the floor, begging for a mattress.

I've never had a nest before. It's been me trying to turn my bed into something acceptable until now. I may not have presented as an Omega and may not go into heat, but I still feel many of the urges that Omegas have.

One of those is to nest.

Another is to present for an Alpha, but that is not something I've ever done.

I'd deny it until the day I die, but it doesn't feel right to be with an Alpha. I've slept with my fair share of Betas, but any time I've gotten close to an Alpha, my body revolts.

Because it knows I already have Alphas.

Cyrus, Rafe, and Simon are haunting my life even now, nearly a decade after they left my heart scattered on the floor like a thrift store puzzle.

Nope. Not gonna think about them.

I take a few steps down into the empty nest and lean against the wall, imagining what the space will be like with a comfortable mattress and tons of furnishings. It all starts coming together in my head, and I pull out my phone to build an online shopping cart at Omegamart.

But eventually, like what always happens when I drink, I decide that I deserve a little pain, and I pull up the ABOSS website.

ABOSS, or the Alpha, Beta, Omega Sports Syndicate, is the place to go for anything and everything professional sports.I navigate the website, down the familiar path to the hockey section, and pull up the most recent article.

Star center Cyrus Stargazer is out for the season after tearing his ACL last week.

I toss my phone across the room gently.

Why do I do this to myself? Now, all I'm going to do is worry about the injury an Alpha who doesn't want me has.

Not for the first time, I wish I could just forget Pack Stargazer. I wish I could erase my mind of the milkshakes at Meg's after dance practice when the guys would stumble in sweaty from whatever sports practice they were at, and we'd sit in those tiny booths that Cyrus barely fit in with the cracked red seating.

I long to forget nights spent lying in the damp grass, staring at the stars while the guys taught me about the cosmos and constellations and told me stories of our history and mythology. Of lying under the shade of trees and studying. Of stolen glances and shy hands brushing against each other.

If I could forget those things, maybe I wouldn't need to have my therapist on speed dial.

Maybe I wouldn't be so fucking alone that it hurts.

But I am.

So I curl up on the bare floor of what will one day be my nest and cry myself to sleep.

"Ms. Knight." The voiceis clipped and stern, and my head swings up so fast that my neck hurts a little. "Can you come with me to my office for a minute?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Woods." I smooth out my red pencil dress as I follow the COO into his office.

Alistair Woods is a handsome Alpha in his early fifties with a completely shaven bald head and a silver beard. He's always dressed immaculately in designer suits that I could only hope to afford one day.

Not to say I do bad. At twenty-seven, I'm one of the youngest division leads here at Hurry Up and Grow, and it pays very well. I didn't think I would ever get here when I was scrimping and saving dollars from Meg's and attending a local college. I doubt my parents thought I would, either.

They never believed in me. They barely were interested in me at all.

Until it came to trying to force me to present as an Omega. My mother had a very vested interest in that.

She couldn't bear to show her face around town if she had aBetadaughter. Doctor visit after doctor visit, diets, and exercise regimens. Eventually, shortly after I turned nineteen, she accepted that I wouldn't ever present.

Of course, I didn't accept it, and then everything that I did to try to get my Omega to come to the surface was a sign that I was mentally unwell.

My stomach churns as I take the seat across from Mr. Woods. I pick at my fingernails absently as I cross my feet at the anklesand straighten my back, attempting to convey confidence I don't have.

"You did great work on the recent Design Clinic campaign," he says without preamble. "Those Perfect Omega billboards were excellent."

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