Page 93 of Knot Their Girl
Perhaps… perhaps it is not omegas who should celebrate their designation. Perhaps Chase Jewels is in need of an overhaul. Everywhere you look, omegas are told to celebratewhat they are, what they’re capable of—basically, how they fit into society and into an alpha’s life, into a pack’s life.
But what if we flipped that onto its head? After all, I know more than anyone how lost I was before finding Raeka. Other alphas must feel the same before they find their omega, lost to the grind, lost to their daily lives while knowing something crucial is missing.
Omegas should not celebrate themselves. Alphas should. Alphas should celebrate their omegas and everything they mean to them.
Yes, that’s it.
And just like that, with an idea fueled by the omega waiting for me at home, I start sketching something out, something unique, something that never would’ve been brought to life if it wasn’t for Raeka.
Chapter Thirty-Eight – Raeka
While the alphas are gone, I work on scheduling a get-together with not only my family, but also Pax’s. For the latter, I enlist Mercedes’s help. She pretty much knows what’s up already, but Pax’s parents don’t. I suppose we should just get it all done at the same time, have everyone meet everyone else at one big party at the house.
At my new house. My home.
Still doesn’t feel quite real, having accepted a place in this pack. Knowing I’m going to become a Chase is a strange feeling, but one I’m slowly learning to accept.
Colter spends most of his time in his studio, painting, and I join him when I can. With both Pax and Gideon gone, it is a little lonely in the house with just the two of us, and since I’m not marked by either alpha, it’s not exactly safe for me to go downtown by myself.
All that said, it’s easy to get used to. I don’t feel like scratching out of my own skin. I don’t have anything to hide anymore; everything is out in the open, and they accept me for it. I’m happy, and that’s not something I ever prepared myself for.
Being happy all the time, it’s easy. A strange, giddy, semi-tingly feeling—very similar to the feeling I get when one of my guys brushes their lips against the tender skin above the scent gland in my neck. My sense of smell has returned in full, and I am an omega to my core; I lose my shit a lot.
Let’s just say the orgasms and the sex did not end the moment my fake heat ended.
It’s Friday, and I’m looking forward to having the guys home for an extended period of time. I’m with Colter most of the day, although I made myself a little comfy spot in the corner of his studio so I could lay down and fiddle around on my laptopwhile he paints. When I watch ASL lessons, I do them with headphones on so I don’t distract him.
My phone lights up, and I see a message from Mercedes:We’re all good for next weekend.
I respond,Thank you for helping out. Hopefully the whole thing goes without a hitch.
Her reply is instant:It will. I know Mr. and Mrs. Alabaster will love you.
I’ll meet them not this weekend but next, so I’ll put that to the test. And then, another thought occurs to me, and I tell her,This means we’re like sister-in-laws, doesn’t it?
I think so? I didn’t realize that! I’ve never had a sister before.
I smile to myself.I have. You’ll meet her next weekend. She’s the perfect little omega.
Not every omega hates being an omega… unlike us.
Yeah, she’s right. There are bound to be omegas out there who actually enjoy being omegas. Mercedes and I are alike in that way, though I think the reason behind our dislike for our omega designation is slightly different. She wanted her freedom, to get away from that possessive alpha asshole who marked her up when they were kids. I never experienced anything as traumatic as that, so it just feels wrong to compare my situation to hers.
I just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m too proud to be an omega, my pride too big or something.
I quietly close my laptop and get up. I ask Colter, “Do you want anything from the kitchen? I’m going to get some water.”
He shakes his head no, gives me a quiet smile, and resumes his current piece: a portrait of a wolf pack. The biggest wolf has bright green eyes and thick, tan fur. The second biggest wolf has eyes the color of the sky and brown hair the color of the dirt path they stand on in his portrait. The third wolf has brown fur, much like the second, but its stature is smaller, and its eyes are ahoneyed amber. One wolf has blondish-gray hair, and is smaller than the others.
Us. He’s painting us as wolves. I love it.
I match his smile with one of my own before heading downstairs. I take my time in walking down the stairs, humming to myself along the way—which is totally weird. I never hum. I never hum and smile to myself.
Guess that just goes to show that I’m happy here. I’m really happy, unbelievably so. I’m so happy, I’m certain nothing could sour my mood.
Making it to the kitchen, I’m humming a familiar tune from the radio as I grab a bottle of water and take a sip. It’s an hour after lunch, which means we still have a few hours to go before the guys get back. I’m heading out of the kitchen and into the hall when my ears pick up an odd sound.
I freeze, slow in turning around. I inch down the hall, following the odd sound, and my feet stop inching when I see shadows outside the front door. The glass is frosted, so I can’t see who it is, but in all the time I’ve been here, I’ve never seen anyone going door-to-door in this neighborhood. The houses are older, with big yards, and there are no sidewalks; it’s the very definition of privacy.Plus, this property has a fence all the way around it.
