Page 43 of Knot Just for Show

“Anton actually told me he was going on a date with you when I saw him earlier today.”

Her hand is still clapped over my mouth, so all I do is raise my eyebrows to indicate my interest in the rest of her tale.

“I told him that he had been remembered as ‘the gym owner.’ —and that you might have assumed that his addition to your schedule was in error,” she snorts, and I wince under her grip.

“Oop! Sorry!” she lets me go, fresh in her realization that I’ve been under her control this entire time.

“So, you’re not mad?” I smack my lips tentatively with their newfound freedom.

“Do you really like him?” She peers down at me appraisingly.

“I don’t know…I feel like I was being really judgy with him and Teddy…but I actually think there’s a little something between Teddy and I…I don’t know if Anton and I have that same–“ I wiggle my fingers in the air to indicate the intangible energy of attraction.

Roxy nods, a satisfied smile drawing her full mouth wide across her regal face.

“I’m proud of you for giving him a chance—for not just bailing because you’re worried about being in competition with a friend.” She grins, jostling me slightly against her.

“I meant what I said though, Rox—I am not losing you over some guy. Especially not a guy like Anton.”

We both laugh at that.

“So promise me, if it gets to the place where I gotta step back—you tell me to step back.” I look up into her mauve eyes, my resolve like iron.

“You bet Ur-Zilla.” She squeezes me.

“And may the best bitch win.” She winks as we make our way toward dinner.

A tense quiet settles over the ladies’ lounge as the scent specialists file silently into the room, little black boxes clutched protectively in their hands.

One of the technicians breaks off from the line, her sleek brown ponytail catching the light as she calls my name, “Ursula?”

I jump up from my seat and make my way over to her.

“Hi there, Ursula. Right this way, I’ll get you set up for your scent review in one of the bubbles, and then I’ll leave you to it,” she chirps happily, motioning for me to follow her into the hallway and toward an unoccupied dating bubble.

“You will have the next two hours to review the scent cards I’ve brought for you. Inside of this box there are two pouches, a green one for matches that you wish to continue courting—and the other, a bright red pouch, for those that are not a match,” she instructs me as we walk down the hallway. “Once you’ve made your selections, one of the scent technicians for the men will compare the results of your prospective partners. Any of the men who match to you will be given access to a temporary pack common room for each omega or sigma that they have matched to.” The scent specialist stops at the door and turns the handle. “Tomorrow you’ll be scheduled for dates with members of your prospective pack who have been able to meet one another. You’ll start the process of deciding who, if anyone, you want to meet at the reveal.”

The door opens, and she ushers me inside.

“There, I think that about covers it.” She smiles, passing me the black box.

My head rattles up and down in an overenthusiastic nod.

“I’ll be right out here when you’re ready, but there’s no rush.”She reminds me, taking a few steps back from the doorway to linger in the hallway.

“Thanks!” I bleat unsteadily before disappearing behind the door.

I hurry to the couch, the box clasped like treasure in my trembling hands.

“Alright, who’s first?” I mumble to myself, careful to heed the direction of the on-set producer who reminded all of us earlier that we are being filmed, and that people want to hear our ‘inner monologue’ in moments like this. It feels so tacky and preformative to artificially narrate myself…but if I’m honest, it’s only a stone’s throw from my usual eccentric ‘talking to myself’ routine.

I pull out the green and red vinyl zippered pouches for ‘yes’ and ‘no’ options and place them on the couch beside me.

“Looks like…” I pull a teensy envelope, only marginally larger than a standard business card from the stack inside the box.

Gently, I slide the un-glued tongue of the envelope open, a thick rectangle of cream colored paper inside.

“Holy.” My eyelids flutter. I can’t see anything written on the card yet—but I can certainly smell it. A delicious, warm gourmand scent washes over me. No doubt about it, the strong, sweet notes of maple sugar, resinous amber, and spicy-tangy mulled cider are powerfully alpha. Masculine, but with a distinctly soft sensibility.

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