Page 9 of Knot My Luck

The primal need flares up, and I start walking without even thinking about it.

I’m halfway down the corridor, head turning instinctively to track the source, when I bump into someone.

“Shit, sorry,” I mutter, my eyes still locked on the door I was heading toward.

The moment our bodies collide, I know. The scent is stronger now, wrapping around me, sinking into my lungs like a drug I can’t quit.

I take a step back, glancing down at who I’ve collided with.

And then I see her.

She’s standing there, caught off-guard, looking at me with wide eyes. I freeze for a moment, heart pounding in my chest.

Every cell in my body locks onto her at once. The scent. The way she moves. The way her wide bright blue eyes meet mine. Flaming red locks.

Recognition slams into me like a truck, my alpha instincts roaring to life.

Mine.

It’sher.

The woman I’ve been trying not to think about for the last few weeks. The beta from the hen-do – the one I fucked without asking any questions, and yet, I can’t stop thinking about.

Her.

I’m hit by another wave of that intoxicating scent, and my breath catches. She’s standing too close, and every instinct in me is telling me to move back, to play it cool, but I don’t want to.

I can’t.

I take a step toward her, keeping my eyes locked on hers.

She should run. Anyone with sense would. But she doesn’t. She stays. Breathless, tense, like she’s waiting for something. And fuck, that only makes me want her more.

“You,” I say, my voice lower than I intended, a rough edge to it. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

She looks a little flustered, her cheeks flushed, and she stumbles over her words.

“I…didn’t think I’d see you here either.”

That scent – it’s coming from her. Sweet, potent, dizzying. And fuck, now that I know, there’s no pretending I don’t. There’s no ignoring what my body already understands.

She’s an omega.

My alpha is screaming that she’smy omega.

And I’m standing too close to walk away now.

There’s an awkward silence between us, the kind where neither of us knows quite what to say, but the tension is thick, palpable. I can feel my heart beating in my throat, and something sharp and predatory stirs in my chest. I don’t want to play nice anymore. I want her closer, want to breathe in that scent again, want to know how it feels to touch her, to taste her.

I’ve never been this affected by a woman before. Never like this.

Her eyes flick to the side, probably looking for an escape, but there’s nowhere for her to go – not with me blocking the way. And I don’t move. Not yet.

“I didn’t know you were…friends with the bride,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, though it cracks just slightly, betraying the sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through me. I can’t remember the last time I felt this off-balance.

“I’m not.” She shakes her head quickly, a little too fast. “Not really. Just…here to support an old school friend. Not part of the wedding party like you.”

“I didn’t meet the bride until last week, and I didn’t recognise her either. I had no idea you’d be here.”

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