Page 4 of Knot Just A Fan

Dyed-red lady continued. “I’ve spoken to some of you on video but for those who spoke with Mark instead, my name’s Nicola Kelly. Call me Nic. I’m not much older than most of you.” I jotted this down because I was terrible with names, and I’d been one of the people who’d been called by Mark to congratulate me on my acceptance into the Guild.

Nic began to rattle off names and gesture to the administrators behind her, stating which stream the person had been placed in.

“Cami Douglas, illustration and painting with Tamika Tate.” Nic gestured to a tall woman who smiled widely and bowed in Cami’s direction. I didn’t have to look to know Cami’s mouth was open a little, eyes wide, as she scrambled out of her seat excitedly. I picked up her phone and passed it to her before she headed down the steps. At least she’d grabbed her bag. I grinned for my friend. She’d made it, and after a few minutes, threeothers were called down to follow Tamika out into the corridor and to their own private conference room.

Cami turned around, flashed a thumbs up and those dazzling white teeth at me, then made a phone signal with her pinkie and thumb. I nodded.

I placed my fingers on the edge of the desk like it was a piano, gently tapping out my nerves. Several more names were called out, and being a Phillips, I had a wait. My eyes ran across the remaining mentors, lingering on each one, trying to imagine who led what.

Then, as they landed on a man at the far edge of the room, standing a little off to the side, that’s the moment when Nic got to me.

“Gabriella Phillips, photography with Grayson Cove.”

My eyes locked in with his. Even from my fourth-row-up seat, alone in the row now as seventy-five per-cent of the room had left, the man’s ice-blue eyes plunged into mine, and mine back into his. It felt like a jolt up my spine, spreading warmth across my body, tingling down my nerves to my fingertips.

I stood but I felt like my soul stayed where it was, frozen, sensing fully that this man had the power to crush me. Because there was no chance I was his Omega, or his pack’s if he had one, but I was already tied to him like a ship to her anchor. Embedded in his sea.

His height told me he was an Alpha. His eyes told me he was fucking trouble.

I reached him without remembering walking down, and stuck out my hand. He took it and shook it, smiling and saying his name like I hadn’t just heard it, and his eyes didn’t blink as they gathered up my gaze.

Then he opened his mouth, and this almost mumbly, but gloriously-amber tone, said, “Let’s go see what the future holds, shall we?”

And I died. Dead.

I was the sort who knew love at first sight was a load of bollocks, and believed that whatever had happened between me and Mr. Grayson Cove was just a case of an older man giving off that air of experience, confidence, and wisdom that paired pretty fucking spectacularly with his being my physical type to a T.

Six-feet five, and icy eyes that seemed to blink too infrequently—a sensual intensity that felt almost indecent. But in a way that made my core glow and my heart squirm. He had stubble threaded with the slightest hint of silver highlighted by the small meeting room’s light. We were seated around a coffee table, me on a utilitarian sofa and he in an armchair.

This man was going to be my Guild mentor. How the hell was I going to stay professional when all I could think about was his broad shoulders, his lean frame, his crooked, sexy smile, and the enigmatic glimmer in his eyes?

“So, Ms. Phillips, I’ve read through your submission pack so I know the basics, but I’d like to hear from you about your hopes for your time here. What interests you most? Then we can connect you to the right jobs.”

His accent was local, Oxfordshire I was sure. Cami and I had scored a nice two-bed flat in the market town up the road from this region’s Guild offices, so we weren’t far. I took this to mean, hopefully, he lived nearby too.

What interests me …Right now, I thought,just you, sir.

He had no ring on his finger. He had no visible link to an Omega. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t part of a pack that had matched already.

But the fact that he seemed to see in me something I saw in him—the way he was looking at me, like we both saw a reflection of something we wanted, or wanted to be—well, it didn’t exactly scream,I’m taken, bugger off.

I leaned back in my chair, trying my hardest to keep my shoulders down and back straight. Confidence, but the demure kind. Not overly assertive, but not self-deprecating.

What I was doing, I have no idea. Other than my body physically reacted to him like it was a chemical connection I couldn’t stop. Is this what scent-matching is like? Is this what being marked is like?

While the back of my mind did the grown-up equivalent of writing your first name with his last—picturing his mouth between my neck and shoulder, marking me as his own, in real life? We were politely sipping coffee and discussing my professional future.

“Any specific area?” He wasn’t taking notes, and I loved his confidence that he didn’t need to. “Your portfolio is multi-faceted, which is quite impressive.”

“Well, that’s just due to taking four years off, and starting the Academy late as well. So it just stands to reason I’d bring a wider variety of random work to the table, I guess.” I didn’t mean it to aggrandize my experience or demean the fresh-from-Academy newbies, but I feared it came out that way.

Grayson smiled widely. “That may be true, but you still have covered a lot of ground with this work, and I don’t just meant quantity. The quality’s stunning.” He flicked through a handful prints in my portfolio. I winced at some of the more amateurish shots I’d thrown in my application at the last minute, like the shots at some smaller theatrical productions and concerts.

“Well, I love nature, especially landscape, and my best friend Cami’s an oil painter and illustrator. We spent time backpacking where I’d take photos of locals with gorgeous backdrops,whoever was up for it, and she’d take the prints and paint their portraits when we got home. Then we’d reconnect with the subjects and give them the portraits she’d painted.” She of course got prints of her own work to keep in her portfolio, but it was a great exercise at honing the skills we loved most. And gathering some testimonials about her work.

“That work shines bright, no doubt,” Grayson said. “But I see quite a few live gig shots in here.” He popped a pair of glasses on his nose and pushed these up before running a hand down his stubbly chin. I wondered what that felt like. And what those glasses would look like on my nightstand.

I swallowed dryly.

---