Page 12 of Knot Their Girl
I give her a smile. “I know. To answer your question, no, I didn’t get any offers tonight.” As I say it, my mind goes back to my ever so stoic bodyguard, and then that curious alpha in the restroom.
What does it say about me that the only two alphas I’m stuck thinking about are the only two in that whole place that didn’t act interested in me at all?
Her mouth falls open, and she stares at me like I suddenly grew a third eye. “You… you didn’t get any offers? Again? No way. I don’t believe that.” Then, my fourteen-year-old sister thinks about it, and her tactics change. “Raeka, what did you do to scare everybody off?”
I chuckle, but that chuckle falls flat, so I say, “I didn’t do anything, and you know, I’m a little offended you think I’d do something to scare everybody off—”
She lifts her eyebrows, clearly unimpressed. She’s my sister; if anybody can see right through me, it’s her. “There’s no way. We’re Whittenhalls. Every alpha pack would love to have us.” She repeats what our parents have told us since we presented as omegas.
Oh, for us? There’ll be a long line of alphas knocking down our door when it comes time to settle down and find ourselves a mate or two, or however many fit our fancy. Every parent probably says something similar to their omega children.
Nicole pouts at me, like I personally disappointed her by not receiving any offers tonight. “So what did you do?”
Again, I act offended. “I didn’t do anything.” When my sister continues to stare at me, the skepticism written across her every feature, I add, “Maybe I wasn’t that nice. Maybe I didn’t play into the bullshit—”
My sister groans. “Why? Mom and Dad are going to be so mad at you for messing it up on purpose.”
“Not if they don’t find out.”
Her blue eyes widen. “You want me to lie to them? I can’t!”
“Trust me, you’ll go farther in life if you’re not always a goodie little two shoes. Don’t tell them I did anything. Just don’t talk to them about it at all, if it makes it easier for you.” Honestly, I don’t care how uncomfortable it makes her; she should know by now that matching with any alpha isn’t something I’m interested in.
Nicole visibly pouts at me. “Why are you so… so against getting a match? It’s what we’re supposed to do—”
“Sometimes what we’re supposed to do and what we want to do are two different things.”
She seems to think on this. After a few quiet moments, she asks, “What do you do if what you want is too hard to get?” She comes off as genuine as she asks this, and it makes me wonder if, perhaps, my little sister might want a little something else for herself, not just to be the perfect omega.
I’m not a good role model. Never try to be, never pretend to be. I know I’m not someone she should model herself after, which is why I try to be a little delicate when I answer her. “We do all we can, give it everything we’ve got. Sometimes life isn’t about succeeding. It’s about failure, too.”
Damn, listen to me get deep.
She purses her lips in thought until she sighs at me. “I just want you to be happy. There really were no alphas there tonight who caught your eye?”
Involuntarily, my mind is assaulted by images of two particular alphas, but I don’t let them get to me. I force a smile and tell her, “Nope.” And I’m ninety-nine percent sure she believes me.
Nicole grabs her journal and her pen and gets up. “Goodnight. Good luck with Mom and Dad in the morning.” She starts for the door.
“Thanks. And remember: no tattling on me.”
She gives me a roll of her eyes then slips out of my room, and I wait a few seconds before getting up and flicking off the light. I crawl under the covers and stare at the darkened ceiling above me. Thanks to my eyes not having adjusted yet, everything is pitch-black.
No alpha really matters. Deep down, they’re all jerks anyway—except for the ones Mercedes landed. And my Dad. All the others? Screw them. I sure as shit don’t need them, and I sure as hell don’t want them.
It’s strange. I used to tell myself that all the time, and I believed it without a second thought. Tonight? Tonight that statement rings hollow, and what’s worse: it kind of sounds like a lie.
“No offers?” My mom’s voice is high-pitched and shrill, even for her frumpy self. Her blond hair is curled this morning, in a pretty updo. She wears a matching floral blouse and skirt, pearls strung around her neck. Her gaze glances to my dad, who sits at the other end of the dining room table, quietly sipping his coffee and reading something on his phone. “Honey, did you hear that? Raeka got no offers. Again.”
My dad finally glances up. For an alpha, he’s pretty laid back. It’s probably why his pack consists of him and my mom—and, by extension, me and my siblings. He takes another sip from his mug as he waits for breakfast to be brought to us.
Nicole is still in bed; they let her sleep in since she’s still growing and developing and whatever. I’m not so lucky. I’m forced to sit and have meals with them.
“I heard,” my dad says. “A pity, but she can try again.”
“How many times are we going to sign her up to that ceremony? Maybe she needs a sponsor. Maybe you should go there with her next time—”
“Mom, I don’t need—”
