Page 7 of Knot Just for Show

“Of course, some of our contestants have been waiting for this for a long while,” George interjects, our view once more focusing on Pack Milton, still huddled together on the ‘bubble’ set.

“Some packs may elect to stay at a prospective pack member's ancestral home or nesting place,” George's voice illuminates over a series of shots of a stately manor—clearly a location that will be shot at length later in the season.

While I find it a little overwhelming to think about, I have to admit that the marble bathrooms, plush canopied beds, and picturesque gardens filling my screen have my hopeless romantic heart aflutter.

“For two weeks, the prospective packs will live together, meet one another's friends and family, and go about their daily lives,”George explains as we return to Pack Milton once more—their expressions all a little giddy.

“Last, but not least,” Anna begins, her eyebrow raised scandalously.

“Our packs will choose their potential names and undergo atrial heat.” She purrs conspiratorially to the audience.

My throat feels dry and I struggle to swallow.

A trial heat!?Are these people completely off their nut? I'm guessing so, because as I'm struggling to return my mind from its reeling, I hear Anna's voice state clearly:

“Omegas and their partners will mutually induce their heat and rut cycles to undergo a trial heat to ensure their compatibility.”

I can feel the hot blush rising in my cheeks, and the slick beginning to flow between my legs at the thought of it.

I've had sex with a few guys, alphas and betas both. Fun, if a bit underwhelming experiences with guys I'd had feelings for at the time, but I'd never allowed myself to go into heat. Not once. The prospect of spending a heat with an anonymous heat helper or two had been occasionally intriguing, but not enough to actually pursue. With my job, the demands ofadultlife, it truly had fallen by the wayside. I ached for that connection, that hidden part of myself I had never been able to unfold and explore. Now, it wasn't a matter of might—it was a guarantee I would at leasttry.

“After the trial heat, the participants must decide whether or not they want to bond as a pack.” Anna looks to Steven, giving his cue to speak.

“In our finale ceremony, packs will decide to incorporate or to dissolve for good,” he adds with a solemn finality.

There is a beat of silence before Anna breaks out into a sunny smile again.

“Of course, we'll have a full cast reunion show where we catch up with everyone, matched, bonded, and still single!” she giggles, and the rest of her pack echoes her laughter.

“Who's ready to meet our participants!?” Anna cheers gleefully—and I fumble for my remote, jamming the pause button down before Pack Milton can spit anymore overwhelming information at me.

Anger rises in me, fresh—licking at my edges like a growing flame. I'm angry at Daphne and Agnes for deciding that this was a good choice for me. I'm angry that the two of them think I'm so pathetic that this may be the only way I'll ever leave the safety of my little pink bungalow. I'm angry that they're actually right—that I have been so steadfastly unwilling to open myself up to getting hurt, that I've entirely bypassed any opportunity to share myself with anyone as well.

I pull my sleeve over one fist and rub at the tears of frustration spilling from my eyes with the back of my hand.

Now I'm going to be launched into the fucking stratosphere of insane risk. My comfort zone, nary but a faded memory and I could still end up coming home empty-handed. No, worse than that—carrying the shattered pieces of my broken heart.

I sniffle and wipe my eyes, turning my tear-blurred-gaze to the framed picture of my family on the bedside table. My mama, Miriam, with her head of tight chocolate cherry curls and honey-colored eyes, smiles from the center of the photograph. My two brothers Joshua and David bracket her. Joshua's mop of golden brown curls hang almost into his hazel eyes, while David's ash brown buzzcut follows the round curve of his skull almost exactly. Behind my mother and brothers stand Dad (Issac, aka Josh's bio father), Pops (Jeffery, aka David's bio dad), and last but not least–Abe, my Papa; with his thick sheaf of raven hair and coke bottle lens glasses. There they are in all their glory: Pack Goldblum-Laskaris. My family.

All the way on the other side of the country, they have no real idea what my day-to-day life looks like. They have no idea how lonely I've been, that I’m about to go on this show that might entirely change my life.

Part of me, most of me if I'm really telling the truth; wants to just not tell them. Honestly, what am I expecting to happen? I can tell by jumping around through the episodes that not everyone who goes on the show and dates in the ‘bubbles’ ends up meeting families. Why bother telling them that I'm going to go on this insane show if I don't have to? I can already hear my mother squawking on the other end about how there's ‘nothing respectable about a lady who has to use a seedy TV show to get dates.’

Not to mention my brothers.Oy vey. Josh will taunt me endlessly about every last stupid thing I do in front of the camera. He's been ruthless about teasing me at every opportunity ever since we were kids. I know it's mostly because he's forever relegated to beingthe baby, and that he does it out of affection for me—but I'm dreading it all the same.

“I don't have to tell them, do I?” I ask Baxter plaintively, watching his blue-black fins flutter in the tank lights for a few moments in silence before I realize that being a ‘crazy-fish-lady,’ is somehow even more sad and desperate than being a ‘crazy-cat-lady’. Resolute to save myself from this tragic fate, I take the next step: I dial my mother's cell number and put myself on speakerphone.

Chapter Three

Ursula

With the support and blessing of both my blood and chosen families, I pack two enormous suitcases stuffed full of the crown-jewels of my closet along with the newfor camerawardrobe Daphne and Julian have compiled for me over the past few weeks.

My professional train case full of makeup and hair styling tools has been overhauled for my own personal use, and my potential ‘reveal’gown—a bespoke Julian St. James piece, hangs carefully in a fancy garment bag.

I’ve called upon Cammy and Lotte to house-sit for me while I’m gone. The pair couldn’t be more delighted to have an excuse to stay in LA a little longer in their own space away from the watchful eyes of their older brother Cosmo, under the auspices of taking care of feeding Baxter and cleaning his tank and getting my mail.

A win-win for everyone.

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