Page 24 of Hard Knot

My Alpha pheromones are probably flooding the hallway, but I can't bring myself to care. Make all those Omega horny for some dick.

I’ll be satisfying myself with my defiant ballerina with a rebel touch.

The nurse's office isn't far, thankfully.

I need to get that first aid kit and treat those abused feet of hers. The sight of the damage had cut through my lust like aknife, replacing it with something equally threatening – the need to care for her, to protect.

That's not what we're here for.

I’m losing sight of our objective here, and the logic in the depths of my brain that isn’t following my dick is trying to remind me of that objective I vowed to maintain.

When I push open the door to the nurse's station, the reaction is immediate. Two middle-aged nurses practically trip over themselves to attend to me, their Beta pheromones spiking with interest. It’s always been a special trait of mine to easily tell the difference between Alpha, Omega, and Beta.

It’s become second nature for myself and others, which makes our lives easier in a few ways. In this case, I know how to navigate around these Betas to get exactly what I need without wasting too much time or effort.

"Can we help you?" the shorter one asks, batting her eyelashes. Her nametag reads 'Margaret,' but she looks more like a 'Desperate' to me.

I flash them my most charming smile, the one that's gotten me out of more trouble than I care to admit.

"Just need a first aid kit. For a...friend."

Friend my foot. I need to make that woman my everything.

They exchange knowing looks that make me want to roll my eyes. If this was a genre in those books Omegas love to read, it would probably be called "Middle-aged Betas and Their Young Alpha Fantasies."

"Of course," Margaret practically purrs, reaching under the counter. "We have several types. Is this for anything specific?"

Yeah, for the feet of the Omega, I want to knot until she can't walk.

My cock can’t possibly get any harder. I’m sure my bulge is on complete display right now, but I’m hoping these black pants will do better justice than the grey alternative.

So fucking glad I didn’t wear that ugly pair.

"Just the standard kit will do," I say instead, maintaining my polite smile. "Thank you, ladies."

They giggle –actually giggle– as they hand over a surprisingly well-stocked kit. I'm out the door before they can offer anything else.

Like their phone numbers or dignity.

The walk back to the locker room feels like it takes forever, each step a battle between my rational mind and my baser instincts. My body is reacting to the mere memory of her scent, my Alpha biology screaming at me to claim, to mark, to breed.

Part of me hopes she took my advice and left.

It would be safer that way, cleaner. We could write off that kiss as a moment of madness and I’d move on with our original plan.

But what if she didn't?

The thought sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

What if she's still there, waiting?

What if she's decided to challenge me?

To push back against my suggestion to run?

I bite my bottom lip hard enough to taste copper, trying to tame the surge of arousal that comes with that thought. An Omega who doesn't automatically submit, who meets fire with fire...It's more intoxicating than it should be.

It's also exactly what we don't need right now.

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