Page 18 of Knot Only His

“Oh my god, you’re even prettier than Holly said!” Freya squeals, ignoring my outstretched hand and wrapping me in a tight hug. “I hope you like sugar because I brought samples. I always bring samples. It’s like my thing. Well, technically, baking is my thing, but bringing samples is my other thing.”

I can’t help but laugh. Her energy is infectious. “I love sugar. And hugs from strangers, apparently.”

“We’re not strangers anymore. We’re roomies!” She links her arm through mine. “Come on, your chariot awaits. And by chariot, I mean my very reliable but slightly beat-up Honda. Don’t judge me.”

"I prefer second class chariots to first class walks."

She holds her finger in the air and says, "I'll tell that to my mother next time she moans about it."

The drive to Freya’s apartment is filled with stories about her bakery mishaps, but I’m happy to not think about my own troubles.

“So there I was, covered in flour, trying to explain to these guys why their wedding cake had turned purple instead of blue. Turns out, I’m slightly colorblind. Who knew?”

“Please tell me you didn’t actually serve it,” I gasp between giggles.

“Of course not! I made them a new one. Luckily, I had to make a multicolored cake for a kid’s birthday party.”

We pull up to her building, and my jaw drops.

And when we get inside, the view of the hills stretches out before us, palm trees swaying in the breeze.

“This is...wow.”

“Right? Not too shabby for a baker. My parents are loaded and bought me it to get me onto the property ladder. Obviously, they have no hope of their daughter finding a pack.” She laughs and leads me inside to a cozy apartment filled with mismatched furniture and the smell of fresh bread. “Welcome home!”

“This is perfect,” I breathe, taking in the warm colors and personal touches everywhere.

“Oh! Almost forgot! Holly told me about what happened.” She looks sheepish before she dashes to the kitchen and returns with a box. “Emergency comfort food. These are my famous chocolate chunk cookies. The secret ingredient is...”

“Let me guess—sugar and love?”

“Ha! No, it’s espresso powder. But that’s way less romantic.”

I bite into one and nearly melt. “I’m never leaving. You’re stuck with me forever.”

“Yeah?” Freya grins, already pulling out more treats. “My last roommate left me because I’m—” She sticks her hands in the air and curls her pointer and middle fingers to make air quotes. “I’m too much, apparently.”

“Never.” I throw my arms around her. “I just love ‘too much.’” I mimic her air quotes.

I help Freya clean up the kitchen after our impromptu cookie feast.

I already love her.

She hums while she works, dancing between the sink and dishwasher with a grace that contradicts her usually scattered movements.

“You know what’s funny?” Freya says, spinning around with a wet plate. “Most people think I’m this way because I’m hyper or something, but it’s actually because I’m trying so hard to be perfect for a pack.”

The plate slips from her hands. I catch it before it hits the floor.

“Thanks.” She takes it back, her usual brightness dimming. “But as I’m an omega who’s never had a pack, I don’t really know what they want. I’m twenty-seven years old and pack-less. Whenever I meeta pack, they always say I’m too....” She swallows. “They always say I’m too much. Too loud, too scattered, too eager about everything.”

What the fuck do they want?

My chest tightens at the pain in her voice. “Freya—”

“No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, but I’m used to it. Just wish someone would see past all...” She gestures at herself with her finger. “And like me.”

“I’m sure the perfect alpha is out there waiting for you. Does it have to be a pack?”

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