Page 36 of Knot Gonna Lie
“What do you need instead?” Seth asked, catching it one-handed, his expression warm yet uncertain.
From across the room, Sylas adjusted the ambient lighting controls, casting the space in golden warmth.
“Honestly? A magnificent cock buried deep within me.” Elara’s frown carved shadows across her features as her needy sweet aroma thickened the air like honey through water, making several clan members pause to draw appreciative breaths. “But my body hasn’t surrendered to the fire of heat yet, and nothing will satisfy me until this sanctuary is perfect.”
“Focus on the nesting first,” Stella called out, amusement threading her voice. “You’ll have plenty of time for that later.” She held up two scarves—one midnight blue, the other deep crimson. “Let us help make your nest perfect for you.”
Seth’s gaze found mine, mouth parted, eyes wide as twin moons. The raw honesty of her desires would take adjustment—but no one laughed. No one teased.
We all understood what omegas endured.
They were pulled from their lives the moment the first signs appeared, locked away in isolation with designated caretakers. Their choices stripped. Their freedom conditional. No one in our clan blamed them for what society had done—for how it had reshaped them.
At least betas had options. Omegas? They had to surrender to a clan, bind themselves to an alpha, just to reclaim a sliver of freedom that was never freely given.
And even then, safety wasn’t guaranteed.
Some alphas still rejected the laws. Still fought the enforcers.
I hadn’t heard whispers of any recent brawls, but that didn’t mean they’d stopped. Maybe the fights had just gone deeper underground—where the leaders could keep the rest of us blind to whatever darkness festered there.
“Elara, would you mind if we helped you dress soon?” Maia asked gently. “We’ll need to swing by your apartment to grab the last of your things before heading into The Center. If we time it right, the others can bring your belongings back to the vessel while we shop.”
“Of course,” Elara said, brushing a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean to hold us up.”
“You’re not.” Stella smiled and set the scarves aside. “You’re getting your space exactly how you want it. That matters.”
She and Maia guided Elara toward the wardrobe, sifting through outfit options with the kind of easy camaraderie that only bloomed between women who genuinely enjoyed each other. Their soft laughter, the shared smiles, the quiet affirmations—it wasn’t forced. It wasn’t performative. It was real.
And it mattered.
In the beginning, I’d worried—rightfully so. Bonded pairs could grow protective in ways that left little room for new additions. But after spending time with Elara this morning, Maia and Stella had visibly relaxed. They’d seen it for themselves: Elara wasn’t here to stir jealousy or compete. Her focus had been singular—on her nest, her new space, her autonomy.
Not on Sylas and Tobias.
Now, they helped her with the gentle familiarity of clan-sisters.
I stepped back to give them space and glanced down at my tablet, fingers moving through the inventory interface with habitual ease. I noted what still needed sourcing, tagging theitems she’d hesitated over—the subtle preferences she hadn’t voiced but couldn’t quite hide.
We’d provide her everything she needed. I’d see to it.
While they dressed her, I fired off a message to Luca with the updated plan. He was still finalizing the vessel’s departure window with port authorities. We’d rendezvous for dinner once everything was secured.
The plan was simple: stop by Elara’s apartment, gather the last of her belongings, then navigate The Center’s maze of merchant stalls for any nesting or personal items we hadn’t acquired. The rest of the clan would return to the ship with her things, and we’d all share a meal together before departure.
A proper send-off. Grounding. Celebration.
The soft sounds of laughter continued behind me—not loud or boisterous, just warm. Comforting. I turned toward the viewport, needing a moment to breathe.
Outside, space stretched in endless silence. Beyond the glass, the spaceport pulsed with quiet life. Vessels slipped in and out of docking bays with fluid precision—sleek couriers, heavy freighters, long-haul cruisers bearing the scars of distant systems. Blue guidance lights blinked along the exterior rings, guiding ships like fireflies through the dark. A refueling arm disengaged from a passing transport, steam venting in lazy spirals. One ship hovered just outside clearance range, awaiting its turn.
Order beneath chaos. Even out there, life didn’t stop.
Barely had a day passed since Elara had joined our ranks. She’d only just received her claiming mark and hadn’t mentioned readiness to gather her pack.
Omegas traditionally began recruitment before heat’s arrival, or at minimum asked willing betas to help navigate heat’s intensity alongside their alpha. If a beta could satisfy theomega while respecting their alpha’s dominance, they’d earn invitation into the omega’s sacred pack.
My thoughts pulled unexpectedly toward Nova.
