Page 9 of Knot Their Girl
Meeting with alpha after alpha is exhausting. I’m no charmer of a personality, I know, but these damn alphas act as though they’re willing to overlook everything just to have a chance with me. Has to be due to my last name and my looks, because my attitude and my responses to their questions certainly aren’t going to win any awards tonight.
No good omega trophies for me.
Of course, Pax being Pax helps. And by helps, I mean he both helps and at the same time he doesn’t. Yeah, I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense, but as I sit there, going through alpha pack after alpha pack, I can’t quite get the jerk out of my mind.
Thank God for the injections. I don’t want to know how crazy he’d make me if I wasn’t on something.
Eventually, I need to use the restroom—and by that, I mean I need a break from being bitchy while simultaneously fighting my inner urge to turn toward Pax and demand to know how exactly he’d teach me manners.
I’d never admit this out loud to anybody, but that little interaction was kind of hot. Really hot. Super-duper, unbelievably hot and tension-filled.
Or maybe it was just me and I’m imagining all of this. Who can say for sure? I sure as hell am not going to ask Pax what was on his mind when he said that to me… when he whispered that so huskily, his deep tone even more rugged and manly.
When I stand and say, “Need to go to the restroom to freshen up,” Pax gives me a look that asks me if I can handle going on my own, so I make sure to inform him: “I got this, dude. Take a break while I’m gone, kay?” It comes out sounding exactly how I hope it does: bitchy beyond all belief, and the only thing Pax does is grunt and glare at me.
So what if I’m having a bit of fun with him? Might as well while I have him at my disposal. After tonight, I never plan on seeing that jerk again.
I leave the ballroom, knowing exactly where the female restroom is from my last matching ceremony. On the way, I discover that I do, in fact, have to pee a little, so I might as well while I’m at it. It’ll be interesting to try to go while in this dress, but more superhuman feats have been performed in mankind’s history, surely.
Out in the hall, I make the correct turns to reach the restroom, and when I go through the door, I find there’s a line. A literal line of omega girls all waiting their turn to pee. Hopefully pee. Don’t want to think about anyone stinking it up in here. Ew.
I nope right out of there, ducking back into the hall. And, of course, now that I know I can’t go, the need to pee really hits me. I glance down the hall, both ways. The men’s restroom isn’t directly across the hall, but it has to be nearby, right? What’s the harm in checking it?
I go on a solo mission to find myself the men’s restroom, and I find it around the corner and down the next adjacent hall. I inch toward the door and lean my ear closer to it, holding my breath to get a better listen. I don’t hear any manly alpha voices or pissing streams, so I assume I’m good to go. I reach for the door and push inside, hoping this particular restroom will have at least one stall or two and not just gross urinals.
Although, in this place, nothing is gross. Everything is perfectly well-kept and clean.
I creep inside and instantly spot two stalls after a row of three urinals, and I’m seconds from making a beeline to them when I notice someone else is in here, all alone.
A man stands near the sinks, looking out of place. He wears a perfectly-fitted suit of navy blue, with a bright red tie. His dark brown hair is combed back, immaculately coiffed, and his squarejaw is free of all stubble. The man is the definition what clean-cut truly is. He stands tall, a few inches over six feet, cluing me in to the fact he’s an alpha, although he isn’t quite as muscled as your typical meathead.
He notices I’m not a man the same moment I notice his presence, and we both freeze up, staring at each other, neither of us knowing what to do. A good ten feet stands between us, and even with my injections, I’m hit with a hint of cinnamon. Cinnamon and something else, something that threatens to lure me in.
The alpha looks almost like a deer in headlights as he stares quizzically at me. “I didn’t walk into the women’s restroom, did I?” For an alpha, he sounds unsure of himself.
“Unless they suddenly include urinals, you’re not in the wrong one. I am.” As I sarcastically say it, I make it a point to glance at the three urinals in the room, and then back at him. He’s got to be some omega’s sponsor, if I have to guess. The alpha is older than Pax by a few years, I’d say.
“Oh.” His relief is short-lived. His brows furrow as he takes me in anew, and suddenly I feel rather scrutinized, like I want to hide behind something. “Then I suppose that raises new questions.”
“I have to pee, and there was a line.”
“Simple enough.” He coughs, like he’s the one encroaching where he doesn’t belong instead of the intruder being me. “I should, uh, let you handle your business, then. Good luck?” He takes a single step toward me—or, rather, toward the door, which I currently stand in front of, but then he stops and mutters, “I don’t know why I said that.”
I give him a smile, and he breathes a little harder after that, making me wonder if was wrong and this alpha isn’t a sponsor—only an unbonded alpha would react like that to a mere smile. Itmust be rare for someone his age to come to these things. “Don’t worry. We can pretend it never happened.”
“Oh, good,” he says dryly. “My glowing social life would never be the same if word got out.” Based on the way he says it, I can’t help but assume he does not have any such social life, glowing or not.
He resumes his exit, stopping only when he stands in front of me. He may not have the ridiculously wide frame most alphas do, but he’s still quite something, and I can’t shake that thought from my head as I stare at him.
“Excuse me,” he says, reminding me that I stand in front of his exit, and I need to move to let him go.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, a word that does not leave my mouth often, believe it or not, and I step aside to let him out as I head toward the stalls in the corner. I make it a few steps, and he’s just about to open the door and leave when I stop him by saying, “Wait, please.”
The alpha immediately stops and looks at me, and out of nowhere I’m struck by the depths of his blue eyes. He wears glasses, strange for an alpha, but they’re such a unique, dark color, even in this fluorescent lighting. “Yes?” It’s good to know that, just like most alphas, he’s eager to please an omega.
“Do you think you could, um, stand watch while I go? Don’t let anybody else in? You know, so my reputation for only using the correct restroom stays intact.”
“It would be a shame. I doubt your social life would ever recover from that embarrassment… and I bet, unlike me, you actually have one.” Putting himself down, an odd thing for an alpha to do. I don’t know what to make of this guy. “I’ll stand guard for you outside.” Without another word more, he exits the restroom.
