Page 3 of The Knotty Omega

Oh good. Our semi-annual obligatory sibling check-in.

“Hey, Marcus.” I keep my voice light despite the anxiety twisting in my gut. “I’m good, I just got home from work. How is everyone?”

“What? Cady, it’s almost nine, you just got home?” His voice is sharp, and other voices respond in the background, no doubt adding their own thoughts to the mix.

“Not…just. I watched two whole episodes of Nest Makeover while I ate dinner.” Reggie meows loudly in my ear as if to add,and she left me home alone all day too!

“Don’t talk to them!” I hiss, “I’m the one who feeds you, you little monster.”

“Who are you talking to?” Marcus asks, surprise in his voice.

“Just Reggie. He’s being a dick.” Shit. Is that a normal thing for people to say?

I can practically hear my brother roll his eyes. “The cat?”

“Yes.” I deadpan, ready for this conversation to be over already.

“You know, Cady, if you found yourself a pack, you wouldn’t have to work at all. Sarah is as happy as can be taking care of little Roman and Julia and she doesn’t have to work a day in her life.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Tell me more about how much you value the work your omega puts into raising your children.“I like my job, Marcus. I worked really hard to get it, and I’m proud of what I do.”

Marcus sighs. “I know, Cady. Listen, that isn’t why I called. The parents are wondering when you’re coming home. They miss you, and say that you’ve punished them for long enough.”

Fucking hell. “This is not some hissy-fit tantrum I’m throwing to punish Mom, Pops, Dad, or even Papi, okay? This is my life, and this is how I’m going to live it. They aren’t going to pair me off with whatever pack they’ve deemed firm enough tohandleme.”

“Come on, Cady—”

“No! I’m sick of everyone treating me like I’m some child trying to get my way. News flash, big brother. I don’t have totry. I did it. I took control of my own life, I don’t have to answer to any of you. If you give me a call like this again, I’m blocking everyone's number. Spread the word.”

With that, my finger jams the end call button so hard I’m surprised I don’t break the phone.

My chest is heaving with my heavy breathing, like it does every time I’m forced into a confrontation about my life decisions.

Fuck them.

They think they can try to guilt me into coming home when all they’ve done is try to limit me because of my designation? Just like they did to Mom.

I’ll die before I let them try to pair me off again.

Still seething, I stomp to the bathroom, taking one pill from each bottle in my medicine cabinet. One small round blue one to suppress my heats, and a long pink one. The TruBond. Tipping my head under the faucet, I fill my mouth with water before popping the pills into my mouth and swallowing. Hands bracing the sink, my head hangs as I replay the conversation with my brother through my head.

Six years of school, four internships, and a full time position at my dream job later and they still believe I’mpunishingthem? Tears sting my eyes and I let them flow, needing to purge this unwelcome feeling of hurt inside. Doesn’t every kid want their parents to be proud of them? To put their needs before their own? It’s like they don’t even realize the Omega Rights Act exists.

My head hangs like that until I get my breathing under control, tears dripping into the sink, then I look at myself in the mirror to assess the damage. My long, white-blonde hair is rumpled in the back from leaning against the couch, and my blue-green eyes are rimmed red from my tears. My cheeks are blotchy, like how they always get when I cry, and I silently curse myself for being so weak.

They don’t deserve my tears. Not after what they did.

Washing my face only takes a few minutes, and by the time my head hits the pillow, it only takes me seconds before I drift off to sleep.

CHAPTER TWO

“Mmmm…my delicious beta brought home a sweet smelling treat,” Matteo rumbles in my ear, sending goosebumps across my flesh as he wraps his arms around my waist. I had been standing at the kitchen counter, going through the mail after work when I remembered the pen I snatched from CJ’s desk, currently stuffed in the pocket of my sweater.

“No,” I sigh, turning in his arms to face him and pulling the pen out of its hiding place, the lingering scent of vanilla and orange blossoms wafting between us. His dark olive complexion complements his deep green eyes, and he looks positively sinful in his dark plum, tailored suit as he studies me. “I may have pilfered a writing utensil from…her. That I saw her chewing on.”

Mattie’s head drops back as he groans, running a hand through his impeccably styled hair. “Why do you keep doing this to uscucciolo? She’s already bonded, yet you keep teasing me.” His light Italian accent makes every word that comes out of his mouth sexy as hell, even if he is chastising me.

“She smells too good,” I frown. “I couldn’t help it. It was rightthere.” Having been raised by an omega momanddad, one of the rarest pairings, the need for scent has been ingrained in me as much as if I were an omega myself.

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