Page 16 of Knot Your Baby

“You haven’t wanted me for months now. What have I done wrong?” Her voice cracks. “What can I do to make it better?”

“Find yourself an alpha who wants you.” The words don’t hurt me like I thought they would. I’d say I feel lighter and happier for finally telling her how I feel.

Her cheeks flush pink. “I just thought—”

She was just sex. She had to be. My pack mates felt nothing for her.

“Just a pretty face,” Miller said when I asked him about her.

“No way. She’s not mine.” Zane was much blunter.

“You thought wrong. The meeting papers are all I need. You can go.”

“I’ve wasted nearly a year waiting for you to want me.” She stares at me for a moment and then retreats when I don’t answer her.

The sharp click of her heels on the floor irritates my ears before she stops and turns back to me. “What did I do wrong?”

“Your scent changed and you still haven’t told me why.”

“I used to wear scent blockers in Club Midnight. I never wore any scent to attract you. You were attracted to me without a scent.”

I shake my head. “You’re lying. Be honest with yourself.”

“I am.” She sighs when I arch an eyebrow. “Stupid fucking alphas who are waiting for their scent matches. You know scent compatibility is enough. I like your smell, you like mine.”

I shake my head.

Her chest rises before she turns away and closes the door behind her with a thud.

I return to the window, loosening my tie. The city stretches endlessly before me, but somehow feels smaller than usual.

Needing to get down to work, I settle into my leather chair, flipping through Maya’s meticulously prepared papers. TheThompson deal could net us millions if I play this right, but the numbers swim before my eyes, refusing to hold my attention.

My finger clicks on the mouse, opening a new tab on my computer.

Club Midnight’s website fills my screen, the dark aesthetics, and crimson accents speaking to my baser needs.

My eyes scan the schedule. I haven’t been since that night. And my pack mates much longer.

“Pain night,”I mutter, shaking my head. Last night’s theme makes my skin crawl. Not my scene.

Tonight’s“Pack Fantasy”catches my attention, but not as much as tomorrow’s offering. Tomorrow is “new omegas” night.

Maybe tomorrow is the night. The night we finally find the one that all our pack agrees on.

I grab my phone, typing a quick message to Miller.

Up for some fun tomorrow? Fresh blood at the club.

His response comes fast.

Miller:No. And I need to talk to you about something when you get home.

Me: I’ll be home around seven.

“Fuck.” I lean back, staring at the ceiling. I never even argued with him. “What the fuck is happening to me? What is happening to my pack?”

Once upon a time, we’d be desperate for the twenty-four hours to tick by to get into the club. Now it’s a nonchalant shrug of our shoulders.

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