Page 1 of Ready or Knot

One

FAEDRA

My hands shake enough that it takes me two tries to get my earrings situated. I don’t even attempt to touch up my lipstick, though I grab the tube and shove it in my clutch. My phone pings with a new notification across the room.

“Violet, I think the car’s here,” I call as I rush to grab my phone. Sure enough, there’s a notification from the app and a text message from the driver double checking. I send a quick response and then rush out to the shared living room of the hotel suite.

“Violet?” I ask, realizing she’s not waiting for me.

“Coming,” comes her frantic reply a moment before she steps out of the adjoining bedroom. My eyebrows rise as a smile stretches my lips. She looks up from putting last minute items in her own clutch and proceeds to blush a deep red. “It’s probably too much, isn’t it?”

I shake my head. “It’s perfect,” I assure her. The floor length bodycon gown is a metallic green, shimmering in the waning sunlight illuminating the space. It almost seems to be living, moving with her as it hugs her generous curves.

“Don’t know how I’m going to survive wearing these, but I guess the Council will just have to factor that into their decision,” she says as she waits for me to open the door. Her hand pulls the hem of her dress up just enough to show the strappy black heels she’s wearing. The three inch heel is just as thin as the straps. I raise my eyebrow again before shaking my head and laughing.

“Of course you’d wear something that would jeopardize your safety.”

Even with the heels, she stands a few inches shorter than my average height.

“They’re fucking perfect, and you know it.” She’s adamant, just like she was when she insisted on packing a full suitcase as well as a carry-on for the short one night visit. But that’s Violet, always prepping for the best—and worst—case scenario. My phone pings again, and I send another text letting the driver know we’re almost down. “Besides, Alphas are almost always ridiculously tall. The last thing I want is for them to think I’m some dainty, virginal eighteen year old. The idea of ending up with a pack that idealizes that makes me want to vomit.”

She scrunches her nose and pushes the call button for the elevator. I manage to keep from flinching at the virginal comment. Violet is bold, daring. She knows what she wants from the world, and she’s not afraid to demand it.

I’m...not.

I’ve always been quiet, cautious. Not that I won’t try something. I’ll do anything once if someone suggests it. But I’m not the life of the party—or friend group.

Even our outfits exemplify our differences, her bold, draping gown outshining my beaded black satin dress. If not for her, I wouldn’t have even picked out this one with its single shoulder and open back. Which she knew, of course. Nothing gets me to try something faster than someone daring me or suggesting I can’t. Her black hair is done up in one of those updos women always save on Pinterest while I’m happy to just manage decent curls for once. One side is pinned back and the rest drapes over my shoulder, bright red against my pale skin.

The idea of having to try to stand out tonight is overwhelming, but I know it’s the reality of being Omega. The Council puts on one of these lavish parties every three months for us, and only registered packs are allowed to attend. Violet and I are both older than the Council prefers. She knew from the moment we were freshmen roommates that she didn’t want to join a pack until she had graduated. It was one of the reasons we bonded so quickly. Packs mean babies, and there was no way I was going to try to balance being a parent with my undergraduate degree. So here I am, waiting for an elevator in the middle of Manhattan, a mere month away from graduating with honors.

It only cost me suppressing two heats.

Violet steps onto the elevator, hips swaying, her entire body exuding confidence. My only goal is to keep my hands from trembling, but I manage, and then the elevator is dropping, moving at a wicked speed to navigate all twenty floors between us and the lobby.

My parents aren’t this kind of rich. I know Violet’s are well-off, but she refuses to take anything from her mother, so she lives similarly to me—and these kinds of hotels are definitely outside of the budget. I suppose the Council wanted to sweeten the pot for us finally picking a Matching Gala.

Or maybe this is how they treat all Omegas.

I only get one of these, so it’s not like I’m an expert at knowing what comes standard.

“Deep breath, Faedra. Alphas are going to be interested in you, I promise,” Violet says as the elevator finally opens into the opulent lobby.

We step out, heading straight for the main doors where a doorman pulls one open ahead of us. I smile as we pass, murmuring a thank you, and he nods. The car is pulled against the curb, hazards flashing, and we rush to settle into the backseat. The driver nods once as we pull away from the curb and starts navigating Friday evening traffic. The car, too, is a courtesy of the Council.

“You’re even more quiet than normal,” Violet points out, and I shrug. She frowns and grasps my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Once the awkward first round of mingling fades, it’ll be good. The first ten minutes are always uncomfortable at big events like this. And by the time the dancing starts, I’m sure you’ll have found at least one Alpha that you like.”

Violet was raised by a pack, her mom being an Omega, too. Her older sister has been with her Alphas for almost as long as I’ve known her, and her younger brother plans on attending the next ball. She grew up surrounded by all of this: the Council, the paperwork, the suppressants.

My parents are both Betas—normal, happy people that fell in love and had two happy children in the Midwest. My brother’s a Beta, too, a few years older than me and doing his final year of medical school in Boston. When I turned seventeen and designated as an Omega, it was a shock to us all. In a lot of ways, I still feel like a Beta, especially with the suppressants I’ve been taking the last few years to keep my heat from emerging.

“I had to switch to the big suppressant,” I tell her, looking out at the city moving past us.

“Oh shit, Fae.” Violet’s eyes are wide, and I grimace. “Is this your third?”

A single nod has her grimacing, too. I sigh. “I just worry that I won’t be Omega enough, Vi. I don’t crave touch the way you do. I don’t desire to be around people all the time or want to hear compliments, either. What happens if no pack wants me and I have to go through a heat alone?”

Heats are intense stretches of time where Omegas become hyper fertile. Everything rational clicks off in their brains, and they become the craziest, horniest people in existence. They tend to happen every six months, but there are suppressants to keep them from being as intense—or stop them altogether. Doctors warn heavily against those ones though, especially for long term use. Each heat suppressed means the next one will be even more intense.

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