Page 13 of Knot Happening

His scent hits me from across the room despite the suppressants in my system: pine, leather, and something darker that makes my carefully controlled omega biology sit up and take notice. It's been over a year since I've encountered an alpha this potent, this... present. Most of the time, the suppressants dull my responses enough that I can function normally around alphas, but this one seems to cut right through my chemical barriers like they're made of tissue paper.

For a terrifying moment, watching him move with that fluid confidence, a thought slips past my mental defenses: Would going into heat with an alpha really be so bad?

The thought hits me like a physical blow, unexpected and dangerous in its appeal. I’ve spent over a year suppressing every natural instinct, denying the biological needs that come with being an omega, convincing myself that the chemical dampening is worth the safety it provides.

But seeing this alpha, watching the way he commands space just by existing in it, makes me question everything. Maybe I’m missing out on something better, something worthwhile once Adam leaves me.

We used to laugh at his mom’s attempts to find him a pack, but after hearing the stats at the ball, the realization that him leaving me is inevitable and possibly sooner than I think hits hard.

What would it feel like to let someone that strong, that dominant, take care of me during my most vulnerable moments? To trust someone with the raw, desperate need that builds during heat cycles despite the suppressants? To experience the kind of claiming that my body was designed for, the bonding that every omega instinct tells me I'm meant to crave?

I find myself nodding slightly at the idea, my omega hindbrain responding to the alpha presence with an enthusiasm that terrifies my rational mind.

Then reality crashes back down around me, cold and brutal. Sarah’s face flashes through my memory. One of my closest friends in high school, she was an omega who left for college full of hope. Sarah thought she’d found her perfect alpha match through a dating app designed for secondary genders. She seemed so happy, so confident in her choice to go off suppressants and experience her first natural heat with someone she trusted.

Sarah, who died from alpha aggression during what should have been a bonding heat. Whose alpha lost control when her scent triggered his rut, whose body couldn't handle the intensity of an unmatched claiming, whose death taught me that surrender isn't always safe, even when it feels right.

The memory hits me like ice water, and this is why I take suppressants. The reason why I hide what I am. Because even good alphas, even caring alphas who seem gentle and trustworthy, can become something lethal when their instincts override their control.

The statistics are terrifying when you know where to look: omega mortality rates during unmatched heats are nearly thirty percent. Alpha aggression during bonding attempts kills more omegas than car accidents and cancer combined. The fairy tale of finding your perfect alpha mate conveniently leaves out the part where trusting the wrong person can literally kill you.

I force myself to look away from the stranger, focusing instead on Adam's concerned face as he notices my sudden change in demeanor.

"Belle? You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Just... thinking about the ball," I manage, which isn't entirely a lie. "All those people. All those expectations. All those alphas looking for their perfect omega match."

The alpha across the library selects a book from the business section, then approaches the circulation desk, giving me a clear view of his profile. Strong nose, full lips, the kind of bone structure that probably makes omegas go weak in the knees on a regular basis. Everything about him screams genetic superiority, alpha confidence, the kind of mate that evolution designed my body to crave and my mind to fear.

"Adam," I say suddenly, my voice carrying more urgency than I intended as I watch the alpha interact with the librarianon duty, "what if we went together? To the ball, I mean. As... as each other's protection."

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth. "Together? Like... as a couple?"

"As friends pretending to be a couple," I clarify quickly, though the words feel strange in my mouth. "Think about it. We both have invitations. We're both terrified of the whole mate-matching aspect. What if we attended as each other's safety net?"

The idea crystallizes as I speak, born from desperation and the memory of Sarah's lifeless eyes in that hospital bed. If Adam and I attend together, presenting ourselves as an established couple, I can avoid the matching ceremonies entirely. I can stay on my suppressants, keep my omega status hidden, and navigate the evening without risking the kind of exposure that could lead to the same fate that claimed my friend.

"You mean like... fake dating?" Adam asks.

"Exactly like fake dating," I confirm, feeling my heartbeat accelerate as the plan takes shape between us. "We know each other well enough to be convincing. We're comfortable together. And most importantly, we trust each other not to push for anything... dangerous."

That last word carries weight that I hope he doesn't examine too closely. Adam has never questioned why I flinch away from alpha attention, why I've never shown interest in dating despite being twenty-eight and presumably ready to settle down. He's never asked about the mysterious "flu" symptoms that keep me home for days at a time, or why I sometimes smell like nothing at all, not even do I have a basic human scent.

He's accepted Belle the Librarian, Belle the Book Lover, Belle the Friend without ever suspecting that Belle the Hidden Omega exists beneath all those layers of suppressants and carefully constructed lies.

"It could actually work," he says slowly, and I can see him warming to the idea. "My parents would be thrilled to see me with someone, especially you. They've always said you're the perfect girl for me, because you’re smart, kind, and have a good family background."

We both pause for a moment, because most of my family are gone. My mom and dad died to cancer. It felt like one moment I had parents and cousins, and the next, death swept through my family like a storm blotting out the sun.

And I won't have to worry about being matched with some alpha who expects..." I trail off, unable to finish the sentence. Someone who might expect me to go into heat for them. Someone whose instincts might override their control when faced with an omega in biological need. Someone who might kill me with kindness and genetic programming, the way Sarah's alpha killed her.

"Plus," Adam continues, getting more excited about the plan, "we could actually enjoy the ball without all the pressure. I've heard the palace is incredible during the event, and the food is supposed to be amazing."

"The networking opportunities alone are worth it," I add, trying to focus on the practical benefits rather than the fear clawing at my chest. "Even if we're not looking for mates, the connections we could make might be valuable for the library. Potential donors, board members, people who care about literacy and community resources."

The alpha at the circulation desk finishes his transaction and heads toward the door, his scent lingering in the air like a promise I can't afford to consider. Even with suppressants dulling my responses, I can feel my body trying to react as a warmth spreading through my chest, my omega instincts recognizing genetic compatibility despite every rational thought in my head screaming warnings.

"Perfect," Adam declares, taking another bite of his fondant with renewed enthusiasm. "We'll go together, dance a few obligatory dances, make polite conversation with other attendees, and then come home with amazing stories about rich people in fancy costumes."

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