Page 31 of Ready or Knot

“Wait. What has your mom done this time?” I ask, and Violet glares at me, flipping her hair over her shoulder and twisting the industrial piercing in her ear.

Rylan is the one who answers. “What hasn’t she done to Dominic at this point?”

Violet reaches across the table and covers his mouth. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she tells me, looking over her shoulder. Rylan bites at Violet’s hand, the look on his face making me think it’s playful. Her soft giggle confirms it a moment later.

Jasper says, clearing his throat and sitting forward until his elbows rest on the table, “Sienna has decided that Dominic’s pedigree,” his lips curl back as he spits the word, “is not nearly as perfect as she would like. She’s filed three different motions with the Council to have Violet reassigned.”

Oh shit. My gaze stays locked on Violet, and she gives a subtle shake of her head, a brittle look crossing her face for a brief moment as she resettles next to me.

“Please tell me you’re going to buy something ridiculous with that card, Faedra,” Jasper says after a bit.

I roll my eyes but laugh, the heavy feeling of a moment ago gone.

Twelve

JUDE

My eyes ache as I close the laptop and pull the connector that allows me to run a second monitor. Summer is typically a lighter workload, but with Faedra flying in tonight, I’ve been trying to finish a week’s worth of work in two days, and it has my head pounding. Two graduate thesis evaluations, one undergraduate senior study plan development, and submissions for potential additional classes to be added to the fall docket.

I blow out a breath and stash my laptop, cleaning off my desk.

I’m two goddamn seconds away from being able to leave and prep for Faedra arriving when she walks in. I swallow a groan but don’t hide my displeasure.

“You’re leaving early,” she says, leaning against the door frame, her arms crossed. Her blonde hair is down, curled into perfect waves that hit just below her collar bone and accentuate the neckline of her white blouse.

Fuck. The last thing I want is to have to deal with Melanie.

“Prior arrangement,” I say, finishing packing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. “Did you need something?”

Her lips bunch into a pout, her eyebrows lowering. “You never leave early. It’s your thing. What’s suddenly so important now?”

Good fucking hell.

I cock an eyebrow but don’t offer a response, standing behind my desk and using it as a barrier between us. It’s been five years, but somehow she can still manage to get my head in knots tight enough that it takes Carter, Logan, and a solid weekend somewhere outdoors to get me back to normal. If I weren’t tenured, I would seriously consider looking at another position at one of the other universities.

I wonder if Faedra would be opposed to camping this weekend. The look in Melanie’s eyes tells me I might end up needing the open air to try and remember who I was—am—without her claws in me.

“It’s not another of those stupid parties, is it? I thought you just had to go to one of those,” she says, scrunching her nose in disgust. “Doesn’t the Council know that they’re wasting their time? If you were going to match, it would have happened years ago.”

It takes all of my control to keep my expression the one of bland disinterest I’ve become a master at over the last decade.

“What do you need, Melanie?” I ask instead of answering any of that bullshit.

She’s been pissed at me for five years over our decision to register as a pack. I’m not about to tell her we were selected and that our Omega is literally on a plane as we speak. God only knows what she would do with the information.

Nothing good, I’m nearly positive.

Her pout becomes more pronounced, and she flips her hair over her shoulder. The movement makes the neckline of her blouse pull taught, her breasts pushing against the low line. I grit my teeth, keeping my eyes on her face. When I don’t respond to the practiced invitation the way I did five years ago—and to my chagrin much more recently—she pushes off the door frame and walks away without a word.

That’s a nightmare brewing.

It’ll have to wait until later though.

My phone alarm goes off, the soft chirp cutting through the silence of my office. Shutting off the light, I double check the door is locked and run a hand over my beard. A text message from Carter flashes across the screen as I head towards the public transport train station.

You ready?

Absolutely.

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