Page 23 of Knot Their Opening Act

“Ma’am, I can see your location and hotel floor on our computers, and can verify your unit is unmoving.”

“Wow, that’s fucking helpful,” I mutter quietly. I reach for the doors to try to pry them apart.

“Whatever you do, do not try to open the doors manually. If they were to open, a fall is possible.”

I immediately stop, and sigh.

“What do we do?” Jez looks at me directly for the first time and the color’s drained from her cheeks.

“Are you asking me, or the guy on the?—”

“Sir, hello, are there two of you?”

“There are indeed,” I say. “And one of us has a problem with enclosed spaces.”

“Ah, I see. Well, hold tight, sir. Our staff will be on site within the next half hour to forty-five minutes. We should have you out of there in no time. Please be assured you’re receiving plenty of oxygen and there’s no cause for panic. You are perfectly safe.”

“Innotime?” Jez yells. “Forty-five minutes is not no time!”

But the voice has gone silent. Whether the tech monitors the audio in here or he’s literally gone to track someone down to take the job, I have no concept.

“Ugh,” I say. I sink to the floor and prop myself in the corner, legs crossed out before me. If I stay calm, maybe she will, too. The last thing I want is for her to have an all-out freak-out. But also, I’m not very good at helping people in these situations. The best I can do is to set an example.

She sinks to her knees with her phone out and is tapping at the screen.

“I’m texting my assistant but she says she’s dealing with a ‘catering incident’ right now. She said, ‘Surely security is on it.’” Jez lets out an exasperated sigh that’s more than two-quarters stifled panic.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask lightly.

She doesn’t look up from her phone, but she’s stopped texting. She holds it in both hands like it has the power to beam her out of this situation and transport her directly to her bed.

“I didn’t take my medication yet for the day.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Why is everything gettingworse?” she growls at herself. At least, I hope it’s at herself because I have no earthly answer.

Then she looks almost guiltily at me. “Usually I take my anti-anxiety med for claustrophobia in the morning. But because I packed up so bloody early to get into the bus, I figured I’d start my day routine once I checked into my room. I didn’t wash my hair, do makeup, nothing. I didn’t expect to get stuck in a fucking elevator.”

I look her over out of curiosity more than anything. Sweat’s beading on her skin—her temples, her forehead, and some glistens on her neck. She’s wearing a huge purple knit cardigan over a tight white t-shirt, and she’s kneeling in jeans and sneakers. One hand raises to the base of her throat.

“I feel lightheaded. I just want to stay sitting.” Her voice is tight and her lips barely move, but then she starts to squirm around like her legs aren’t comfortable, and she moans quietly, “Oh no, oh no.”

Her breathing quickens and little gasps come out, but she covers her mouth. Her eyes avert mine. I’m starting to get alarmed, so I scoot closer to her, and put a tentative arm out, about to place my hand on her shoulder. Maybe human touch will remind her she’s not alone.

I’m so not the right person to be in here. It’s about to makemepanic.

And then, something strikes me. Her scent is loud in my head, not like a song but an alarm going off, cutting through my rut suppressant that also suppresses Omega scents.

Whether her panic has upped her scent or I’m just now focused enough to notice it, either way, it’s there. And it’s … dammit.

It’s fucking delicious.

She pulls her fairy-blue hair around her shoulder and twists it nervously. The movement of the strands sends a thicker waft of her at me. And I pinpoint it. It’s like spring flowers in Hawaii. Or just a garden somewhere, but sweet. Honeysuckle, and jasmine maybe.

I inhale deeply to test this theory, and the action makes her jump. She shrinks back as though she could melt into the floor.

Oh, God. She’s in heat.

“You won’t—please, don’t tell the rest.” Her voice gets small and her eyes get big, and mine drop to her chest. Her nipples are poking into the fabric of her shirt and I wish to hell I hadn’t just looked down like a total cur.

Now my cock’s starting to take notice. Give me strength.

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