Page 3 of Knot Only His

Red cups litter every surface, and the smell of spilled beer mingles with expensive cologne—and no doubt alpha and omega scents.

NHL players pack the space shoulder to shoulder, their loud voices carrying over the music. I spot three of my clients in the crowd, including Jack Evans, who raises his drink in greeting.

“Want something to drink?” Carver’s breath tickles my ear.

“God, yes.”

He disappears into the crowd, leaving me to scan the room.

The furniture is flush against the walls, allowing the center to be a makeshift dance floor that throbs with bodies.

In one corner, an actor I recognize from a TV show has a woman pressed against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. They’re not trying to be subtle about it.

Women in tight dresses grind against players, hoping to catch themselves a professional athlete as a boyfriend, no doubt.

I recognize some of them from other parties. The regular bunnies that follow the team.

A group by the window passes around a bottle of vodka, taking swigs straight from the neck.

I shake my head as someone curses.

“Idiots,” I mutter. They’ve spilled an entire drink on the white rug, leaving a spreading red stain that will probably cost more than my bonus to clean.

Carver returns with two drinks, pressing one into my hand.

“Thanks,” I say. The liquid burns going down, and I already need another.

“Let’s see who is here,” Carver says. His big, warm hand takes mine.

“Is Colton here?” I have to shout over the music.

Carver’s jaw tightens as he gestures toward the balcony where I spot my boyfriend surrounded by a group of women. One of them runs her hand down his chest while he laughs.

My stomach twists.

I down the rest of my drink in one gulp.

“Another?” Carver asks, his eyes darken as they follow my gaze. “Or do you want to leave?”

“I’m staying.”

“Harlow. It’s—”

“Make it stronger this time,” I interrupt as I stare ahead. My feet stuck to the spot.

I watch as the blonde girl leans in, her lips brushing Colton’s ear. I’ve seen her before; I just can’t place where.

Her hand rests on his chest, fingers splayed across his expensive button-down. The same shirt I bought him for his birthday last month.

My heart stops.

The way he looks at her is different than I’ve seen before. Normally, he doesn’t give any girl his time. But this time…his pupils are blown wide, nostrils flaring, and my heart thunders against my rib cage, knowing he just caught her scent.

She is an omega.

The room spins.

Every vein in my body is fizzling as realization crashes over me. This isn’t just another puck bunny throwing herself at him. The way they’re moving together, the intensity in their locked gaze—there’s a connection there.

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