Page 117 of Knot All that Glitters: Part 1

Why aren’t they here? Why aren’t they taking care of me?

Because they don’t really want you, Haven!

I snap the words to my own mind and force myself to straighten, to slide down the alley, leaning heavily against the dirty brick wall. Tears stream down my face as my nails dig into the spot on my stomach below my belly button. I just need this to stop, need to focus long enough to make it to a safe space, like Ren told me.Safe space. Hole up. Orgasms.Please, let me find a safe space.Please. Please. Please.

The gods must be listening, and they’ve also apparently decided that I’ve been through enough bullshit recently. Halfway down the alley, I find a boarded-up window. It looks like someone’s already pried it halfway off, or maybe all the way off, and then haphazardly put it back on.

Some part of me knows that means there might be someone already in the building, that there might be a squatter who’s already claimed this shut down building as their own. But the other part of me, the part that is focused on Ren’s directions, doesn’t give a fuck.

Besides, maybe they’ll be an alpha and they can fuck-

I cut off the thought before it can take root, but that doesn’t stop my vagina from clenching, sending a wave of slick to soak through my yoga pants. My teeth clench around a cry of pain, trying to keep it inside, but it still comes out too loud. God fucking dammit. This is the worst. So fucking bad.

I’ve never had a heat before, and I’m inclined to hope that I never have one again.

As soon as I presented as an omega, my father put me on suppressants, even at the omega academy. Everyone thought it was strange that I didn’t have a full perfume, or that I never had a heat in the three years I was there. But god, I’m glad I didn’t.

I can’t imagine being eighteen and dealing with this at the academy.

Nevermind that the school was fully equipped with all the drugs to knock an omega out. They also have contracts with heat helper packs, who can fuck an omega through their heat if they decide to go that route. But I’m not sure I would have been able to do that.

Thought maybe that’s just because I can’t imagine fucking anyone but the Calloway pack.

Give me ten minutes and that might change.

Focus, Haven.

Taking a deep breath, I curl my hands around the plywood blocking the window and pull. The wood bites into my palms and fingers, splinters digging under my skin as I heave with every ounce of strength in me.

“Just. Fucking. Move!” I grunt at it, tugging with every word. Blood wells from between my fingers, but the pain in my hand is nothing compared to the pain in my womb.Nothing.

I let out a relieved laugh when the wood gives way, stumbling back across the alley until I slam into the wall there. The plywood swings down and smacks my knees, making me gasp in pain again. But its temporary fading quickly under the unbearable agony of my heat.

“Safe space. Hole up. Orgasms. Safe space. Hole up. Orgasms,” I mutter to myself to keep me focused. “Safe space. Hole up. Orgasms.”

The wood falls to the ground with a clatter, and I move back toward the window. It’s broken, shards of glass hanging from the top, but someone’s taken the time to clear the glass from the frame at the bottom, obviously so they could climb through, just like I’m about to do.

I'm normally an excellent climber. I had to be in order to sneak out of my bedroom and over the fence for my nights out with Florence. But my muscles feel weak and languid at the moment. Like every second my heat goes unserviced, it drains me a little more.

Stupid fucking Calloway pack. Why did they do this to me?

If they weren’t such complete assholes, I could be with them right now, being fucked to within an inch of my life, getting knotted and licked and sucked. I wouldn’t be in this fucking pain.

But it would be a lie.

Everything on their side would be a lie.

Not the orgasms, but everything else.

Better to suffer alone.

I drag my body over the sill, hissing when tiny shards scrape over my stomach, then again when I overcorrect and hit the glass hanging from the top of the window, digging into my shoulders and back. Warmth spreads over my skin and I have the brief thought that I’m bleeding. But I can’t focus on that because as soon as I land on the other side of the window, in the relative safety of the building, another cramp hits.

I whimper and whine, curling my knees to my chest. “It hurts. It hurts. It hurts,” I mutter. “Please, make it stop. Please.”

Orgasms.Ren’s voice reminds me.You need orgasms.

Right.

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