Page 4 of Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

I close my eyes, seeing Marcus' smirk as he leaned across my bar yesterday afternoon. His Alpha scent had filled the space, making other customers unconsciously submit. Making me fight every Omega instinct to bare my neck and submit. To admit I was submissive and that he could make decisions for me. Just the thought has me breathing faster, my heart racing.

"He said he'd make it easy." My voice sounds distant. "Sign over the bar now, and he'll let me manage it. Under his supervision, of course. Because clearly, an unmated Omega can't handle business decisions." A bitter laugh escapes. "Said he'd even let me keep my apartment upstairs. If I learn my place."

Lily growls, a surprising sound from an Omega. "He can't?—"

"He can. In twenty-one days, he will." I stand abruptly, needing to move. "Unless I mate someone. Anyone. Let them own half my business, half my life, half my soul, just to keep Marcus from taking all of it."

"Just try meeting these Alphas," Hannah pleads. "If it's terrible, then you've lost nothing. But what if one of these guys is the one?"

Outside,Jingle Bellsplays. Inside, my cookies are definitely burning, and I go to remove them from the oven. Then I stare across the street to the Winterscape Bar, my bar's windows glowing warm against the darkness.

Not long before I lose everything.

"I can't." The words catch in my throat. "Hannah, Lily, I... I'm not ready. I can't do this again."

"Ruby—"

"No." My nerves spike with distress. "I'd rather lose the bar than lose myself to an Alpha and end up like my mom." Even as I say it, I know it's a lie; it's my fear. Even as Hannah's face falls and Lily hugs me and the town speakers switch toLet It Snow,I know I'm lying.

Because in twenty-one days, I'll lose both, anyway.

The Mercedes engine rumbles past again. Waiting. Watching. Knowing.

I stand frozen, each breath coming shorter than the last, like a noose slowly tightening—and I'm running out of ways to fight it.

I think of what I told that raccoon earlier in the alley.

Trusting hurts sometimes. But being trapped hurts more.Funny how advice has a way of coming back around.

2

RUBY

Whoever decided Christmas lights should have minds of their own deserves coal in their stocking—for eternity.

My hands tremble as I wrestle with a tangled string of white lights, which somehow managed to knot itself between my car and my booth along Main Street at the Whispering Grove Winter Craft Beer Festival. The trembling isn't just from the cold or from half the night's sleepless baking session. It's the kind that starts in your bones when you know you're running out of time.

"I swear these things breed just to mock me," I mumble to myself, trying to keep my voice steady. Twenty days. The deadline looms like a guillotine blade.

I take a deep breath, trying to push the worry to the back of my mind.

The festival bustles around me, vendors setting up booths under grey morning skies threatening more snow. My booth—technically just an extension of my bar's regular spot at local events—sits sadly undecorated compared to the winter wonderlands popping up around me. Even the sign looks tired, the gold lettering that Aunt Eve had hand-painted beginning to fade:Winterscape Bar & Brewery - Established 1962.

"You know," Erica calls from her cupcake booth next door. "Normal people decorate before the day of an event."

"Normal people sleep at night instead of baking." The words come out sharper than intended. I see the flash of hurt in her eyes and immediately regret it. It's not her fault I spent last night alternating between stress-baking and having panic attacks about Marcus's latestofferto take the bar.

"Speaking of which," I add, softer now, trying to smooth things over. "I hear you've got beer-flavored cupcakes this year." Whispering Grove may have more bakeries per capita than anywhere else in America, but Erica's creations are unique and delicious.

She brightens, arranging perfectly frosted cupcakes. "You have no idea how good they turned out. We can do an exchange later... beer for a cupcake?"

"You got yourself a deal." The lights fight back as I climb on a chair, my fingers numb from the cold and exhaustion. The metal wobbles beneath me—of course, it does because everything in my life feels like it's about to collapse.

"Need help with that?"

The deep voice startles me. My chair tips, lights tangling around my arms as I flail. Strong hands catch my waist, steadying me. The scent hits me hard—pine needles and hops, yes, but underneath that, there's the familiar darker and richer smell, like coffee beans roasted with vanilla. I love how it feels so right as I breathe it in, my insides starting to soothe, and I might be gushing. What has he done to me? It makes my chest ache with want, and a fire ignites between my thighs, which immediately sets off warning bells in my head.

"Those lights are a fire hazard," the stranger says, his hands still gentle on my waist, and I'm struggling to think about anything but his burning touch. How my body is buzzing all over. When I finally look up, I nearly lose my balance again.

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