Page 1 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

Chapter 1

Hailey

Awave of dizziness hits me, the room tilting slightly as the muted scent of crushed jasmine washes over me. It’s dull, as if the alpha has done something to tone it down, and yet it still hits me hard. Cloying and heady, like sweetness left too long in the sun. It’sher. She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t touch me, but her presence is like a weight on my back, pushing the air from my lungs. My bare skin prickles, every instinct screaming at me to flee, to disappear. But there is nowhere to go. There is no escape from the inevitable.

“Kneel.”

The order is sharp. Rebounding off the metal walls. At least, that’s what I think I’m in. A cold metal room. Empty except for the frigid air within it.

“Kneel.” The order is sharper this time. Terse. The edge of the whip landing on my thigh and jerking me into action.

I fall, knees pressing into the cold floor beneath me. Holding back the shiver that goes through me is impossible. The blindfold over my eyes provides the only covering. The only warmth. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing—not for the first time—that I could disappear into the cold metal beneath me.

Whenever the alpha calls me for my weekly inspection, it always plays out the same way. She orders me to kneel, then waits, watching me from the shadows, my skin prickling as her gaze shifts over me. Just like it’s prickling now. Those eyes are shifting over me, noticing every imperfection, every curve and tremble. I’m acutely aware of my shallow, panicked breaths as if they’re the loudest sound in the room—perhaps they are, given how silent she always is when she evaluates me this way.

Minutes drag by in silence. She’s searching. Hunting for the slightest change in my body since the last time she examined me.

It makes me want to disappear into myself, become smaller, thinner, anything to be deemed more desirable. Her silence is almost worse than the feeling oftheirhands on me. But at least when their hands are on me, I know what to expect.

“Pre-sent.”

My mouth goes dry as I force myself to swallow and do as I’m told. My thighs part as I lean forward, shifting into the position she wants me to be in.

“Arch!” It’s a growl, an annoyed sound in the alpha’s throat as she gives the order.

Afemalealpha. Something so rare it’s no wonder she’s in charge here. At least, that’s what I tell myself. What I’ve been telling myself since the first day I arrived at this place.

I bet that she’s beautiful. Tall and strong. Rivaling the allure of omegas but being able to stand on her own. The concept is almost as foreign as her existence.

If I had even a shred of her strength, maybe this wouldn’t be happening to me. If I wasn’t born an omega, thisdefinitelywouldn’t be happening to me. How many times have I wished I’d been born a beta instead?

The whip snaps against my thigh once more and I bite back a whimper. The heat of the blow almost rivals the sting. A searing heat that chases away the chill. For a moment borne from what can only be rising insanity, I want to ask her to do it again. Towhip me so I can feel. Anything except this cold. Anything except the pain.

I arch my back as commanded, the curve pulling taut every muscle in my body. My breath trembles. I can even imagine the condensation floating from my lips.

There, I wait.

This position leaves me exposed, vulnerable—and not just physically. The alpha’s heels click as she walks around me slowly, a disapproving grunt in her throat. I swallow hard and arch a little more. Why? Because some weak part of me actuallywantsher praise. Some weak part of me actually wants this person to see that I am good. She might be an alpha, but she’s female. She can’t really be like all the male alphas I’ve met since I revealed, right?

She must have some heart.

“Pathetic,” she finally spits. A wave of shame washes over me, pooling in my gut. “You think you deserve anything from me like this?”

For a moment, something untamed claws at my ribs—an urge to stand up, to fight back, to tell her that she’s wrong about everything. That I’m more than what they see. But then I remember the sounds from the “special training” rooms, the screams that echo through these halls at night. I swallow the urge down, letting it dissolve into the familiar taste of submission. Rebellion is a luxury omegas can’t afford. A luxuryIcan’t afford.

The whip cracks against the floor beside me, a warning I dare not ignore. I arch a little more, silently begging for mercy even though the crime is one I had no input in. I didn’t choose my designation. I didn’t choose my parents or my body. I didn’t choose any of this.

“You need to learn your place, omega. Submission is more than just a position; it’s an understanding.” Her leather-gloved finger presses under my chin, forcing me to lift my head slightly. The motion is both humiliating and infuriating. I can’t see her, but I can feel the weight of her gaze pinning me. Letting me know my place.

“How old is this one again?” She grips my chin, the pressure growing punishing as she turns my head this way and that. She hums a ‘hmm’ in her throat.

“Twenty-one,” a voice says from somewhere in the room. Male. I sniff as discreetly as I can. No identifying scent. Beta.

The alpha uses this moment to press the tip of her whip between my shoulder blades, forcing my spine to stiffen. A silent reminder to behave. A shudder runs down my spine.

Twenty-one, and still unwanted.

“A bit…old,” she hums. “And yet…untouched. Are you sure she’s functioning?”

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