Page 14 of Knotty New Year

But worse were the questions. He asked me everything from what my childhood pets had been, to what I liked to eat for breakfast, to my favorite poets. I tried not to be offended when he acted shocked that I could quote Hafiz, Rumi, Dickinson, and Wendell Berry. “I’ll pull some of my books for you to read,” he promised, his eyes boring into me like I was some great mystery.

I knew what I was. A young, unaccomplished omega who was probably going to end up back at her parents’ house in a week, and married to a man with a booger nose within a year. The thought made me drink faster.

By the time we got to the questions about old boyfriends, I had worked my way through half the bottle of wine, and I would have told him my mother’s maiden name, my social security number, and my social media passwords without blinking.

“So, did you have any serious boyfriends?” he asked too casually, rolling his wine glass by the stem in one hand.

“Are you trying to find out if I’m a”—I hiccupped—“a virgin, Mr. Paxson, sir?” I ran my finger over the rim of my own wine glass. “Because the answer is no. I had plenty of boy—hic!—boyfriends. Well, three is plenty, right?”

“More than enough,” he gritted out.

I noticed a spill of wine on the counter and then saw him throw the two pieces of his glass in the trash. When had that broken?

“No alpha boyfriends, though,” I said, leaning my head on my hand with a sigh. “I mean, not that I had the chance. We all thought I was a beta until just a few years—hic!—ago. And then, when I did start my heats, my parents’ stupid doctor friends all said not to let me spend them with alphas, in case I got bitten and ended up with ‘the wrong sort.’” I made air quotes that somehow tipped the wine bottle over. But Pax caught it. I patted his forearm, praising him. “You’re so fast. Super fast. I bet you’re the fastest alpha in the state.”

For some reason, he laughed. “I promise I can go slow.”

“Well, if I go back home, my parents will probably guilt me into marrying Andreas, whoisan alpha.”

“Omegas get tochoosetheir mates,” he said, his tone chilling. “They can’t force you.”

“But what if my choice was not to end up with any alpha?” I muttered. “Why did I have to lose everything? All I wanted was a choice.”

“So you’d settle for this alpha… Andreas?”

“Probably.” I sighed. “Andreas Vanderwall III. Can you imagine me named Candy Vanderwall III? He’s not an alpha like you, though.”

“How is he not like me?” he growled, and the hair on my arms stood up. “Is he young?”

“Ugh, he is so young. Same age as me. I’ve known him since we were four.” I shivered. “Creepy guy. Not touchy-creepy, but looky-creepy. My parents, though, are easily impressed by his alpha bloodlines. His great-great-something grandfather was the Alpha Captain on the Mayflower.” I rolled my eyes.

“His bloodlines?” For some reason, Pax had his phone out in his hand and was typing in something.

“Oh my god, are you looking him up?”

He shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Of course not.” But his lips were tight.

“What about you? Any girlfriends?” I probed subtly, letting my eyes run up and down his muscular frame. He still had a suit on, and I wondered what he would look like in jeans. Or a swimsuit. Or maybe just socks.

“My feetareone of my best features,” he muttered for some reason as he stood, rinsed out my wine glass, and refilled it with water. “Shame to cover them up.” He handed me the glass. I sneered at it, until he growled, “Drink it down, princess. Every drop.”

“I don’t like water,” I complained. “I liked the wine.” Suddenly, a warm, firm hand was on the back of my neck, and my face was tilted up. His other hand wrapped around the wineglass and lifted it to my lips.

“Be a good girl and drink it all.” Our eyes met, and the stern command in his voice had my core starting a spiral that had only ever happened when I was ten minutes into a self-care session.

“Oh fuck,” I managed to say before I was swallowing slowly, his thumb moving over my throat.

“Every drop, beautiful. That’s right, such a good girl.”

I whimpered when the glass was done, and felt my jaw drop open slightly when he brushed his thumb over the corner of my mouth, catching one stray droplet, and then feeding it into my mouth. I couldn’t blink, couldn’t look away. What was he doing?

His thumb dipped in between my lips, and he pressed down on my tongue, his eyes still blazing. “Suck, Omega,” he commanded, and I did, feeling the hot press of his thumb go a little deeper. Like he was testing me. Preparing me to take something bigger.

Suddenly, he let out a soft purr, the vibrations traveling all the way from where he touched my neck down to my clit, and I clenched so hard I thought I might fall off my stool.

And then he backed away. “Time for bed, princess.”

Yes.I nodded. That was exactly what I wanted.

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