Page 2 of Knot Unwanted: Part One

I can hear when the beta shifts. “Double-checked her bloodwork in the file myself. All checks out.”

The female alpha does that ‘hmm’ thing in her throat again.

“Of course, you are one of my best. You know how detrimental it would be for you if you didn’t do your job right.” The beta doesn’t respond, and the alpha’s grip on my chin forces my head to the left and then right again. She snorts, and I feel her attention latch on to me. “Perhaps one of the others, a bit less…rounded, would be a better investment.”

I repress a shudder at the word “investment.” They didn’t even have to use the word fat, yet it hung in the air between them like a thick fog. My insides knot with that recognizable mixture of dread and self-hatred as I remain silent and wait.

“Perhaps,” the beta replies. “However, this one has elevated T-compound in her blood.”

“A late bloomer, then.” In the silence, I can almost hear her thinking. “Her first heat will be powerful when it arrives, I’m sure. Worth the wait. Especially for those who appreciate…” She pauses, her fingers moving to grip my upper arm, not unkindly but with a firmness that brooks no argument. “Ample proportions.”

Her words are like an echo of every taunt, every cruel whisper that’s haunted me my entire life. Ample. Too much. Always too much.

She says the same thing every time, as if she forgets me the moment I leave this room. Every time she brings me here to inspect me, it starts all over again. And each time, it’s the same thing. She’s too big. Too old. She’s not what we’re looking for.

I don’t know why she keeps trying, but as that familiar, icy dread settles in my gut, I know I don’t want her to stop. Because if she doesn’t manage to sell me, if I don’t manage to be bought, I don’t know what happens next.

“How much food did she have yesterday?” Her voice carries, and I know she’s still speaking to the beta.

“Just the usual rations.”

Maybe it’s hunger, maybe it’s the breath I’ve been holding, but my stomach chooses that moment to betray me with a growl. The sound echoes in the metal chamber, and I want to die from the shame of it. Heat floods my face while cold ripples through the rest of my body.

“Fat bitch wants more,” the beta grunts.

He has no alpha bark, but I wither anyway.

No matter how I try to eat tiny amounts to show them I’m a good omega, I’m always still hungry. And even though I eat only half of what they provide—sometimes not at all—the wide hips remain. The thick thighs. The soft curves betray me even now. They mark me as different from the sleek, willowy omegas that everyone desires.

“Stand.” The command comes with another sharp crack of the whip against my flesh. I scramble to obey, my muscles trembling from holding the previous position for so long. My knees nearly buckle as I rise.

“Look at those thighs,” she murmurs. The urge to run and hide under a large fluffy blanket where the world won’t see me is strong. But there are no fluffy blankets here. There is barely anything in my room. Nothing that will allow an omega comfort. Nothing that will make us nest. Nothing that will influence a heat.

Standing here, open to these strangers…the message is clear.

I am nothing but an object for their amusement.

I must know my place until I am good enough to deserve a master. An alpha who will put up with an unwanted omega like me.

“Trash,” the beta whispers under his breath. In the silence of the room, I hear him anyway.

I bite my lip to keep from protesting. To keep from explaining that this is just how I’m built, that I’ve tried everything to conform to their standards. But omegas don’t speak unless spoken to. That was the first lesson they taught me here at the Reform Academy.

The female alpha tuts. “You know what they say. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.” She moves closer. I feel her breath on my face as she leans in, her fingers suddenly gripping my jaw with bruising force. “We’ll fix that appetite of yours, won’t we, little pig?”

My stomach clenches, not just from hunger this time but from fear. I know what they mean by “fixing” things here. I’ve heard the screams from other rooms. Have had nightmares about what they’ve been doing to the other omegas trapped in this hellhole.

Submit. It’s the only way.

I know she doesn’t want an answer. If I do respond, I’d be punished for making a sound. Instead, I dip my chin lower, signaling affirmation and subservience.

It works. She steps away again. “Cee only wants omegas like this for one thing. These big ones that no one else wants…” I can sense that she turns towards me again. “They’re perfect for his tastes.”

So that’s where I’m headed then. To this…Cee. An alpha that procures multiple omegas? An alpha that wants what others don’t. Like me. The thought is hard to get around.

But doesn’t it usually take multiple alphas to satisfy a single omega in heat? Not the other way around. An alpha collecting multiple omegas is unheard of. But what do I know.

She walks away, heading across the room, and I hear the faint tapping of keys on a keyboard.

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