Page 17 of Knot Happening

Declan stands, and slowly moves around the outside of his desk. He leans against it, one ankle crossing over the other, his hands gripping the edge at either side of his trim hips.

“You wouldn’t have come here, or you wouldn’t have worn the things I gave you?” He tilts his head, waiting for me to answer.

“If you’re just going to toy with me, I’m going to leave. I need a job that pays well, and I need to get one fast. I heard Omegas are treated with respect in this club and make good money, so I gave it my best shot,” I huff, looking away from him.

“We have a strict no fraternizing with the employees rule,” he finally says after a long pause.

“Great,” I shrug. I need a job more than I need to catch a knot.

“So you’re okay with that? This never becoming something? Just employee and employer? You don’t want to fuck me as badly as I want to fuck you?”

I gasp, looking up at him. My nipples are hard under the silky material, and I rub my thighs together as a tension starts to build. I’m shaking my head, though, before I can even speak.

“I can’t fuck you!” I take a step away from him because though I might enjoy his pushy attention, I’m not having sex with him. Especially now that he might become my boss!

Declan nods his head slowly, straightens, and moves back around his desk, taking a seat. His entire demeanor changes once he’s sitting. He’s all business professional when he looks at me again. “Put your dress back on, Tatum, and we can discuss pay and hours.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes.

I need this so fucking badly, and Declan is giving me my first piece of hope in so, so long.

Maybe it was the feeling of hope that I’d been missing for so fucking long, or maybe it’s just the man himself, but it became clear that keeping my thoughts professional was out of the question.

Perhaps, it was the topic. Declan had clearly given this speech before, to all new hires. His hypnotic voice had erotic images dancing through my head with the descriptions of what different jobs were offered. But when he started talking about base pay, overtime, and extra opportunities to earn money, I think I came in the seat across from him.

I know I said I couldn’t be wooed by his wealth, and that much is still true. But apparently, I can be wooed by the prospect of working for my own money.

He made it clear that I don’t need to do more than I am comfortable with, and once I receive enough training, I can request to be considered for certain opportunities.

Heat mistress is out of the question. Who knows how my repressed hormones would react.

Omegas don’t often like sharing their heats with other Omegas, either. Of course, there are exceptions. Omegas who have trauma, or who just happen to enjoy other Omegas.

I’m not going to lie, when Declan explained the dynamic, and opportunities that could arise, I got wildly distracted attempting to picture what that might look like for me.

Would the Omega be a male? What would that be like? An Alpha’s rut can trigger an Omega’s heat, even if they normally wouldn’t have gone into heat. This is more common in scent matches or bonded mates, but it’s not unheard of.

I text Meg on the way home to let her know that she can head out since I am only ten minutes away, and I know she has been studying a lot.

I jog up the stairs to the front of my apartment building, barefoot, because the less I wear the heels, the higher mychances are of selling them, when I catch movement in the window next to the light yellow curtains of my own apartment on the second floor. I pause. I’ve never seen anyone coming or going from in there.

Fortunately, nothing else moves, so it's probably from a breeze, maybe from a fan inside, rustling the curtain.

I don’t know why I’m so curious about my possible neighbor, but I am. It had been years since that place had been occupied to my knowledge. Who are they? I shake my head and keep moving.

Once inside, I eagerly rush to my mom’s room. Mom is still lying in the same position in her bed when I arrive, and I rush to her side so I can share my giddy excitement with her..

“I did it. I got the job, Mama. You’re talking to the next Omega Fantasy Muse at the club Haze Instincts!” I’m so giddy at what the money could mean for us, that I actually do a little wiggly dance. She jostles from my movements but doesn’t open her eyes. She isn’t asleep, though.

The twinge of disappointment that she doesn’t respond hurts. But then I watch as she slowly lifts her hand, finds my thigh on the bed beside her, and gives it a weakened squeeze.

I stare at her hand against my leg for a long moment. She leaves it there, but makes no move to speak, or even look at me.

This feels like her way of saying she’s here. She heard me, and she’s trying so hard to acknowledge me, but she simply can’t.

I suck in a gasp that transforms into a choked sob as a tear slips down my cheek. My poor mama.

I take her hand in both of mine, holding it tightly. She’s warm and soft. Alive. Still here. Just trapped inside her mind. In her grief. In a pain so unbearable that she can’t break free. The mark on her neck, the one my father gave her the day they bonded, is a sad gray color.

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