Page 13 of Knot Happening Again

"Ophelia?"

I look up to see a smiling woman approaching me. Beta, by her scent—or lack thereof. She's dressed in a crisp blazer and pencil skirt, looking every inch the professional.

"I'm Samantha," she says, extending a hand. "We spoke on the phone earlier. It's lovely to meet you in person."

I shake her hand, surprised by the firm grip. "Nice to meet you too," I mumble, suddenly feeling very underdressed in my ratty sweater and leggings.

If Samantha notices, she doesn't comment. "Why don't you come with me? We'll get you set up with the questionnaire and then we can discuss your options."

I follow her down a hallway lined with doors, each one labeled with a number. We stop at one marked Consultation Room 3, and Samantha ushers me inside.

The room is small but cozy, with a comfortable-looking armchair and a sleek tablet mounted on a stand. The walls are a soothing shade of blue, and there's a small fountain bubbling away in one corner.

"Make yourself comfortable," Samantha says, gesturing to the chair. "The questionnaire is pretty straightforward, but if youhave any questions, just press the call button and someone will be right in to help you."

I nod, sinking into the chair. It's even more comfortable than it looks, and I have to resist the urge to curl up and nap right there.

"Take your time," Samantha adds with a gentle smile. "And remember, there are no wrong answers. We just want to get to know you and your needs so we can find the best possible match."

With that, she leaves, closing the door softly behind her. I'm left alone with the tablet, its screen glowing invitingly.

I take a deep breath and tap the start button. Here goes nothing.

The questions start off simple enough. Name, age, class. But as I scroll through, they get more detailed. Medical history, heat cycles, sexual preferences.

I hesitate over some of them, not sure how to answer. How am I supposed to know what kind of alpha I prefer when I've never had a good experience with any of them?

But I push through, forcing myself to be honest. What's the point of lying? If this is going to work, they need to know what they're dealing with.

When I get to the section about mating status, my finger hovers over the screen. There it is, in black and white.

Incomplete mark.

I tap it, then type out a brief explanation in the box provided. No need to go into the whole sordid story. Just the basics—marked at eighteen, alpha left, never completed the bond.

As I work through the questionnaire, I find myself relaxing in spite of myself. The questions are thorough but not invasive, and there's always an option to skip if something feels too personal.

By the time I reach the end, I've told them more about myself than I've told anyone in years.

Everything but the part about my unlocked scent. But I'll only be seeing the alphas during my heat anyway. The one time I'msupposedto perfume unprovoked, so it's not like they're going to notice.

The final section asks about my preferences for a pack. I stare at the screen, at a loss.

What do I even want?

All alphas are the same in the end.

They’ll use you and leave you.

But I guess if I have to choose...

I end up leaving most of it blank. No preferences for age, appearance, hobbies, assets, careers, or pack size. I just know I want more than a single alpha. Better odds that way. The only thing I specify other than wanting a fully fledged pack is that I want a temporary arrangement only.

No long-term commitments, no attempts at bonding. Just get me through my heat and let me get back to my life.

As I hit the submit button, a wave of exhaustion washes over me. I slump back in the chair, suddenly aware of how drained I feel. Between the suppressants and the stress, I'm running on fumes.

There's a soft knock at the door, and Samantha pokes her head in. "All finished?" she asks with a smile.

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