Page 131 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

“Remember,” he says softly, “just stay close to us. If anything feels wrong?—”

“We leave immediately,” Stone finishes, opening our door. “No questions asked.”

The store entrance looms before us like a portal to another world. As we approach, the glass doors slide open silently, releasing a rush of climate-controlled air that carries a thousand unfamiliar scents. My steps falter.

“Breathe,” Finn murmurs, tucking my hand into his elbow. “Nice and slow. We’ll take it one aisle at a time.”

The lights hit me first—so bright, so sterile. For a moment, it feels like I’m back at the Academy. Back in that room where I was poked and prodded. It takes everything within me to move my limbs and walk beside Finn. Then the sounds: music playing softly overhead, the beep of registers, the murmur of voices, the squeak of cart wheels on polished floors. Colors assault my vision from every direction—packaging designed to catch the eye, signs announcing sales, displays arranged in rainbow patterns.

“Oh,” I breathe, swaying slightly. Everything seems to pulse with its own energy, its own urgency.

Stone moves closer, his bulk shielding me from the curious glances of other shoppers. “Cart or basket?”

“Cart,” Finn decides. “Better coverage.”

I don’t understand until he positions me between himself and the cart, creating a buffer between me and the rest of the store. Stone takes point, leading us toward what looks like a clothing section.

“Let’s start with the basics,” Finn says, his voice pitched low and soothing. “Undergarments first. Then we’ll work our way up to—oh!” He brightens suddenly. “Look at these!”

He holds up something made of soft-looking fabric in a pale rose color. “These are perfect for sleeping. They’re designed specifically for omegas in pre-heat—temperature regulating fabric, extra absorption…what do you think?”

I stare at the garment, heat flooding my cheeks. At the Academy, I was often naked. Choice wasn’t part of the equation.

“I…I don’t…” The words stick in my throat.

“Here.” Finn’s voice gentles further. “Feel the material. See how soft it is? And look—” he points to different features as if discussing something completely normal, not intimate clothing that makes my ears burn. “The waistband is adjustable, and there’s this special lining that helps when things get… uncomfortable.”

A passing beta gives us an odd look. Stone shifts slightly, blocking their view.

“You’ll want several pairs,” Finn continues, adding packages to the cart. “And these too—they’re like regular underwear but with built-in protection. Much more comfortable than the old-fashioned kinds.”

He keeps up a steady stream of commentary as we move through the aisles, explaining each item as if teaching a particularly interesting lesson.

“Oh, these are new!” He holds up something that looks like a thin patch. “Scent modulators. They help regulate hormone levels during pre-heat. Much better than the chemical suppressants they used to use. And look—” he points to a small symbol on the package. “Omega-owned company. They actually test their products properly instead of just assuming what we need.”

Omega-owned? Am I imagining all this?

My attention snags on a group of omegas near the beauty section, their alphas hovering nearby. Three of them, probably my age or a little older, are sampling perfumes with practiced smiles that don’t reach their eyes. Two wear claiming bites proudly visible above their collars, and the third—I blink, not sure I’m seeing right—has multiple claiming marks. I watch as one omega sprays perfume with a too-sharp flick of her wrist, the mist “accidentally” catching another omega in the face. Their laughter is like wind chimes made of glass—beautiful but sharp enough to cut. Even as they share compliments, I can see the way they subtly angle theirbodies to display their claiming marks, the way their eyes constantly assess and measure each other’s status, beauty, worth.

It’s…strange.

“Different world, isn’t it?” Finn murmurs, following my gaze. “Multiple claims aren’t as taboo anymore. Omegas kind of…run the world.”

Ok, I definitely am imagining all this.

I touch my neck reflexively, feeling phantom teeth that never actually marked me. The Academy had been very clear about our future: one master, one claim, no choices.

The omega with multiple claims picks up a lipstick, applying it with ease. Her friends offer opinions, their body language completely at ease. No flinching. No scanning for threats. No permission needed for such a simple act of self-expression.

“Speaking of choices,” Finn says gently, “would you like to pick out some things? Whatever catches your eye.”

I blink at him, uncomprehending. “I…can choose?”

Something flashes across his face before he forces a smile. “Of course you can, sunshine. Whatever you want.”

Stone, who’s been maintaining a protective perimeter around us, moves closer. “Within reason,” he rumbles, but there’s warmth in his tone. “Budget’s not unlimited.”

Finn rolls his eyes. “Please. Like you’d actually enforce a budget.” He turns back to me. “Ignore him. He’s just pretending to be responsible because he’s the alpha.”

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