Page 14 of Knot Gonna Lie
The weight of her words settled over me like gravity from a dying star.
But beneath that crushing pressure, deeper than caution or wisdom, burned the memory of Elara’s scent—lavender and vanilla swirled with desperate longing—and the way she’d whispered my name like a prayer.
To save her. To take her away from Syzygy Station.
“Then I’ll ensure the deception never comes to light,” I said, voice steady with conviction. “I’ll be the alpha she deserves, regardless of what name I use in that arena.”
“Very well.” Quinn extended her hand toward the identification cards, studying them closely. “But understand this, Alpha Coco—whatever name you carry into that arena, you’ll bear the weight of her happiness for the rest of your existence. Are you prepared for that responsibility?”
“It would be my honor. Now, how do I register?”
CHAPTER SIX
ELARA
“You did it?”
“For the eleventh time, Elara, yes.” Quinn combed back the loose strands from my face and tucked them behind my ears. She gripped my arms, stepped back, and studied me with calculating precision. “After touring his clan’s ship and inspecting the nest room, I was surprised to find it spotless, odorless, and thoroughly prepared for whenever he decided to claim an omega. Even though he was pre-approved, I wanted to ensure what he provided was adequate before having him register for your roster.
“I feel bad for the other alphas who are going to stand before you in there.” She flashed me a playful pout before grinning. “You are so infatuated with Mr. Coco that they don’t even have a chance.”
“I can’t believe you actually did it.”
“Believe me.” She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I know. You keep asking.”
“Was his crew pleasant?”
“That I won’t answer.” Her smile dropped as her expression turned serious. “You can’t walk into your meeting with the matron having already decided you’ve claimed someone. Not only is it against station rules for an alpha to court—”
“We aren’t courting!”
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Quinn placed her hand gently over my mouth and shook her head. “No, but purchasing the jewelry you’re currently wearing comes close enough. Why else would an alpha buy an omega expensive gifts? That’s what they do when they’re either trying to tempt you to pick them when you enter The Den—or after you’ve chosen the select few you want to move to the courting stages with and they want to impress you. We both know he wasn’t even on a roster, and you haven’t yet been in the arena.”
“Do you think it’s a problem that I wore these today?” I grabbed my necklace, rubbing my fingers along the coolness of the gems. Suddenly, doubt made the choker feel suffocating. “Should I wear something else?”
“Don’t be silly.”
Quinn grabbed my hand and removed it from my choker, holding onto it as she used the other to thread her fingers underneath the pearl and diamond band carefully. She started making hushing noises, like a mother calming their newborn, as the coolness of her skin eased the tension in my neck.
“You look perfect. You are perfect.” Her eyes held mine as she leaned forward and rubbed her cheeks against mine. Her morning dew scent swirled around me, settling my nerves as I breathed it in with every long inhalation. “All you have to do is survive the Matron’s interview, and then we’ll wait in a lounge until it’s your turn.”
“Are you certain he’ll be there?”
“Positive.”
She pulled her head away, just far enough that our noses barely touched as her brown eyes held mine.
“He will be there. I promise.” Smiling, she pulled her hand from my neck and slowly dragged her clawed fingers back through my hair. “If he isn’t, there will be plenty of eligible alphas waiting for you to choose them. And if they aren’t worthy, then we can try again until you find the perfect one.”
“Let’s begin.” Matron Jacques waved a hand my way as she peered over her tablet, studying me from across her black metallic desk. “I have plenty of ready omegas to survey, all prepared for their first time in The Den.”
“I’m ready when you are.”
“Excellent.”
The leader of Syzygy Station proved more intimidating in person than all the times I’d seen her on the vidscreens. The mature gamma sat cross-legged in a black pinstriped pantsuit, with a partly undone violet-purple button-up shirt exposing just enough skin to tease anyone who dared look. Her long platinum hair framed her face, making her sharp cheekbones and piercing green eyes stand out. Warm peppermint filled the room, pure and untainted by any other scent.
The rumors were true—the matron was a free gamma, unbonded and without a clan. Of course, it was expected given her role, but knowing that the single person in charge of regulating the matchmaking between alphas and omegas had never experienced either relationship struck me as oddly disconnected.
