Page 8 of Knot My Luck

“Uh…” My mind scrambles for an escape. “Haven’t seen him yet,” I manage to say, forcing a casual tone, though my voice shakes at the edges. “Maybe he’s avoiding me.”

“Ah, don’t be like that,” Lucy says with a playful nudge of her elbow. “Wouldn’t you at least say hello?”

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t know…maybe not tonight.”

I force a smile, but the tension in my shoulders tells me it’s not convincing. Every part of me wants to flee the conversation, to find a dark corner where I can hide, but I don’t dare run – not with them looking at me like this. My stomach twists, my heart racing as I can feel the burn starting to spread down my spine.

It’s too much. The heat, the pulsing need, the familiar pull that’s impossible to ignore. It’s too much, and I can’t keep pretending I’m not aware of it.

I make a half-hearted attempt to change the subject. “How’s everything been with you guys? How’s work?”

But Lucy isn’t having it. She’s already glancing around the room, her eyes searching.

“Well, I’ll keep an eye out for him, then. But youhaveto say hello to him if he’s here! He’s packed up but they don’t have an omega yet.” She laughs lightly, not noticing the tension that’s rising inside me. “I wish I was an omega, the entire pack is sex on a stick.”

I want to tell her to stop. To just stop talking about him. But I can’t. I can’t seem to get the words past the lump in my throat, and I certainly can’t risk drawing attention to the fact that I’m not the beta they all think I am.

“Alright,” I say in a shaky voice, giving an awkward laugh. “I’ll be sure to do that…eventually.”

The conversation moves on, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s off. The heat is still there, gnawing at me, and every second I stay in the room feels like a battle against my own body.

And as I glance around, my gaze catches someone else’s. Just for a moment. But it’s him. The best man.

I feel it. That pull. Thatunavoidablepull.

And I know, right then, that I’m not going to be able to keep dodging him for much longer. So I do what any self respecting omega on the verge of heat while pretending to be a beta would do: I turn in the opposite direction and run.

TWO

Lorcan

The wedding is a fucking circus. I’ve spent the last hour grinning like a fool, posing for pictures, shaking hands with people I don’t even know, all while pretending I’m enjoying myself. The things an alpha has to do to keep up appearances. The charm, the patience, the fake smiles – it’s all a game. I’m good at it – too good – but I’m so over it now. The small talk, the gushing, the endless well-wishes for the newlyweds. It’s exhausting, and I’m desperate to get away from it all. Because my alpha instincts are restless, prowling beneath the surface.

Finally, the photographer calls it a wrap, and I’m given the green light to move. I don’t need to be told twice. I slip out of the crowd with a purposeful stride, my tie already loose around my neck, the top button of my shirt undone. The clinking of glasses and the chatter behind me fades as I make my way toward the bar, but before I get there, a wave of frustration surges through me. I don’t even want a drink right now. I want a goddamn escape.

I pause just before the bar, feeling the need for some fresh air. The scents in the room are already overwhelming and the day is still young. The alcohol, sweat, cloying sweetness of perfume and hormones. None of them matter. Not when I can still sense something else, something sharper and far more intoxicating lingering in the air.

The toilets are nearby, a quick pit stop to get my bearings and get some space from this circus. But as I turn the corner toward the restroom, something stops me.

A scent.

It slams into me like a fist to the gut. Sweet, rich, unmistakeable. My pulse kicks up, my body tensing in response. My alpha instincts sharpen in an instant, zeroing in on the source, like a predator catching the first trace of its prey.

Green apple with a crisp, refreshing bite, toasted pecans warming beneath it, and the deep, comforting sweetness of caramel. And then, just the faintest hint of cinnamon lingers, like a whisper on the breeze.

It’s warm and intoxicating, the kind of scent that wraps around you and makes everything else fade into the background. It tugs at something primal, something instinctive, a part of me that’s been quiet for too damn long. Alphas don’t just react to scent – we feel it, claim it. And right now, every part of me is telling me this one belongs to me.

I breathe it in deeper, unable to stop myself.

Addictive. Consuming.

The control I’ve spent years perfecting, wavers for the first time in a long damn while. This isn’t just attraction. This is instinct.

This ismine.

My body reacts before my brain does, pulling me forward, drawn to it like a magnet. The sharp edges of my usual control slip away with each breath.

I don’t know what the hell it is about this scent, but it hits me straight in the chest. It’s like a damn brand, burning its way into my lungs, seeping under my skin. My control is slipping, instincts sharpening, my entire body screaming for one thing – find her. Take her.

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