Page 50 of Ready or Knot

Harper’s self-preservation finally kicks in, and she scurries from the office, ducking her head. Amanda keeps her eyes on the ground as she offers a quick apology before closing the door and turning the lock. I blow out a hard breath.

“Fuck, Faedra,” I murmur into her hair, guiding her to look at me. “I’m so sorry.”

Tears well all at once, falling over her lashes and down her cheeks before I can wipe them away. My hand tightens in her hair, tracing the shell of her ear as I run my other hand up her spine and across her shoulder. She squirms against me, testing my knot, and then collapses against me when it doesn’t release. Her fingers twist into the loops on my slacks, and my heart clenches.

Why the hell didn’t I think to lock the door?

Anybody else would have listened to Amanda, would have waited until I was officially available for a conversation. Fury settles heavy in my chest, burning up my throat as I swallow back bile.

I trail my hand down Faedra’s spine, brushing my lips along her neck, trying to distract her from the absolute cluster that our knotting has become. This isn’t how we were supposed to enjoy knotting for the first time. The anger burns hotter in my gut the longer I let myself think about it, so I focus on my Omega instead, feeding that innate piece of me the softness of her skin and the fluttering of her cunt still stretched around my knot. It settles as the minutes pass. Faedra whimpers as my knot releases, and she collapses against me even as I pull out.

“Faedra, I’m so sorry,” I murmur against her throat. No amount of apologies will fix what Harper ruined, but I’m giving them anyway. Faedra takes a stuttering breath, and I wipe away the tears on her cheeks, cupping her face but not making her look at me. I press a soft kiss under her ear, sighing. “Let me clean you up.”

She tightens her hold on my hips, nodding once. I waste no time picking her up, wrapping her legs more completely around my hips, locking my arms around her waist. She presses into my sternum harder while I carry her into the private bathroom in my office. I set her on the counter before returning to my desk to grab her shirt and bra. Her eyes are glassy and unfocused when I return to her.

“Faedra?” I ask, keeping my voice a soothing murmur. She focuses on me after a long minute. Forgoing her bra, I guide her shirt over her head and then set about prepping a washcloth, careful to keep an arm around her. She shudders, whimpering, and her vacant reaction makes me worry that she might be dropping into her heat. Today’s her final day weaning off the suppressant, so it would be early, but the way she’s holding herself right now combined with how she described her arousal feeling earlier has me concerned it’s going to happen sooner rather than later.

She sucks in a breath when I run the washcloth over her core with as soft of a hand as I can manage. She’s trimmed short, but it takes a few extra passes to get her cleaned well enough I don’t worry about her getting an infection. Not that I mind. Her short curls hold my scent infinitely better than if she were completely bare, and it makes my intrinsic Alpha nature puff up in pride. She wiggles a bit on the counter, and it reminds me to put my dick away before it gets any more ridiculous ideas.

There’s a flicker of guilt as I look down and see the streaks of blood on my dick. I run the clean portion of the washcloth across the base of it to get the worst of the blood off before redoing my zipper and belt.

“You were perfect,” I whisper, dropping the cloth into the sink to deal with later. She looks up at me, her eyebrows furrowed, but her lips tip up in a smile after a moment. I cup her chin and pull her lips to mine, setting a gentle kiss to them. “What does my Omega need now?”

Her eyes flutter shut.

“I’m tired,” she whispers. Her eyes squeeze tighter. “But there’s this panic I don’t understand. Like if you leave, everything will fall apart.”

Fuck, but those suppressants really work, don’t they?

“It’s normal, Faedra,” I tell her, keeping my voice low and soothing.

She shakes her head once, a whine rising in her throat, and I wrap my arms around her, my fingers threading through her hair again.

“I’ve never felt this. I don’t understand,” she says, growing hysterical. I tighten my grip on her, guiding her nose into my throat. “Y-you need to work. I can’t keep you from doing your job. But—” She chokes off a sob, pulling me closer to her. Her tears soak the shoulder of my unbuttoned shirt.

I run my hand up her spine, pressing my lips under her ear. Wrapping her legs around my waist again, I walk us back into the office and straight to the wardrobe tucked into the far corner. I intentionally added items to it when the Council informed us of matching with Faedra, figuring there would come a point when she would be with me here.

Her tears are still falling onto my shoulder, her arms locked around my neck as I adjust my hold in order to grab one of the fluffy blankets from the bottom shelf and drape it across her shoulders. Grabbing the other blanket, I walk back to my chair and carefully set her in it. She presses her thighs into her chest, grabbing her shins and resting her cheek on her knees, glassy eyes locked on me. I set a small kiss to her hand before wrapping the other blanket around her legs and crossing back to the wardrobe.

“Carter?” Her voice is a bare whisper, shaky enough that my chest clenches.

“Yes, love?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice soft.

“Do you know why I feel like this?”

I grab the pillow stashed in the bottom drawer. When I turn around, Faedra’s eyes are locked on me, her eyebrows furrowed, a faint tremor in her arms. I nod as I walk back to her and arrange the pillow on the ground next to the chair, tucked away from any wandering eyes that might be looking in from the door. I have a meeting today with the administrator from Hawkins Corp that can’t be rescheduled for anything less than her dropping into her heat. While I prefer these types of meetings happening in my own office, I’ll have Amanda prep the conference room for me.

She takes in my actions without comment. When I reach for the second blanket, she gives it easily, her hands tucking between her shins. I lay it out, moving the acceptance packets she received, carefully arranging the papers and setting them next to my keyboard.

“I don’t have a mattress,” I say with regret, looking up at her. “I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to get one tomorrow.”

She gives a shy smile. “I liked the desk just fine. You don’t have to go out of your way.”

Smirking, I shake my head. “It’s not for sex, love.”

Her cheeks darken, but her words are confident. “Still. A mattress wouldn’t fit under there. I’m fine without it.”

Nodding, I hold out my hand.

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