Page 7 of The Knotty Omega

I stuff down the possessive growl at the thought that somebody else scented the delicious signature emanating from between my breasts. What the hell iswrongwith me?

“Sorry,” I choke out, my cheeks reddening. “It won’t happen again.”

When she finally walks away, I breathe a sigh of relief, going near boneless in my chair. Without thinking, I pull the square of fabric from its hiding spot and pull it up to my nose again, inhaling deeply.

The way the bourbon and caramel mix with my orange blossom and vanilla is so damn dangerous.

“She needs to mind her own fucking business,” Archie says from behind me, causing me to let out a startled squeak, the pocket square flying into the air.

His eyes are heated as he takes me in. I’m trying to come up with an explanation for why I just sniffing this piece of fabric like a someone with a pocket square fetish, when he says, “Besides, I might request that you keep wearing whatever the hell you put on today,” he leans forward slightly, and takes a deep inhale. “It smells absolutely fuckingdivine.”

Despite the fact his words have my heart beating out of my chest, I shift nervously when I feel my panties dampen with slick, thankful I recently splurged on some top of the line, scent blocking ones.

Well that was fuckingweird.He looked almost feral. Can betas even go feral?

Slightly flirty, sweet, and caring? That’s the Archie I’m used to.

This new side to him, the pure intensity in his eyes when he looked at me? That is a side that I wouldnotmind getting to know.

Shit, I need to see where I’m at on my heat suppressants. They stop my heats for the most part, but once or twice a year I’ll get a mini-heat. It’s easy enough to manage with a good vibrator and some knotted dildos, but I need to know it’s coming so I can take time off from work.

My eyes search the cubicle for the little square of bourbon-caramel heaven, but it’s gone. Dammit. Did I launch it across the wall of my cubicle when Archie startled me?

I resist the urge to check every inch of this office to find it. It’s not even mine.

When I see a text come in from my best friend Hannah, I feel some stress leave me. Maybe I’ll ask her what she thinks of the whole Archie thing that just happened.

I could use a drink.

***

The bar is loud, especially for a Thursday night, and we have to shout to hear over each other. “He actually said that?!” Hannah nearly shrieks, her green eyes going wide. She’s got her dyed-pink hair piled on top of her head, and a tight black dress on. She looks amazing, as always. I wish I could put some fun color in my hair, but the upkeep is a bitch and I can’t commit to going to the salon so often.

Hannah, being a hairdresser, is already there and trades services with another stylist. Last month her hair was the prettiest shade of lilac.

Hmm. Maybe I could just do the ends purple...

I had just enough time to run home, change, and grab my pills since I didn’t know how late we were staying. My ripped jeans, ankle boots, and off the shoulder top combo I changed into make me feel confident, which I sorely need after my conversation with Laura earlier.

I nod, serious as I sip on my margarita.

“But he’s not wrong. I need to track down whatever cologne that was and spray it all over my not-nest.”

Hannah’s laugh twinkles across the bar. “You and your ‘not-nest’. It’s not a crime to acknowledge our omega tendencies, Cay.”

“I know,” I smile sadly, feeling suddenly melancholy.

I jump when the alarm on my phone goes off, signalling it’s time to take my pills. Excusing myself, I take my purse and walk into the bathroom. Taking pills at the bar would have been easier, given there’s already a drink waiting for me, but I don’t need anyone seeing the TruBond bottle and asking questions.

Hiding in a stall, I take out my pill bottle and move to shake one into my hand. I'm so focused on my task that I don't even realize that the lock on the stall door didn't latch properly until it's pushed open behind me. It knocks into my back, drawing an “oof” out of me and causes me to stumble forward.

“Oh, sorry!” Someone’s voice calls out behind me, but it’s too late.

I stare with wide eyes at the entire fucking bottle of my bond replicators splash into the toilet.

Shit.

CHAPTER FOUR

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