Page 57 of Knot Their Arrangement

The way his tongue traces my lower lip, seeking entrance. How his hand cradles the back of my neck, firm but not constraining. The lingering sweetness of vanilla mixing with his natural taste – whiskey and power and something darker that makes my head spin.

I'm acutely aware of Kieran watching us, his mismatched eyes probably cataloging every detail of this moment. But instead of making me self-conscious, his presence adds another layer of heat to the encounter.

This should feel wrong.

Dangerous.

Reckless.

I'm nineteen, barely escaped an arranged marriage, sitting in an elite club's VIP section kissing a man who probably has more blood on his hands than I want to contemplate.Kissing him a second time at that…after already kissing a random stranger earlier before all of this.Everything about this situation should scream danger.

Yet somehow it feels right.

Like Fate’s intervention.

Maybe it's because for the first time in my life, I'm choosing this. No one is forcing me, arranging me, trading me like property. This kiss, this moment, this connection – it's all my choice.

And when Damon's tongue finally meets mine, when the last of the ice cream has melted away leaving only the heat between us, I choose to deepen the kiss.

To match his passion with my own, to show him that being an Omega doesn't mean being passive.

His grip tightens slightly on my neck, approval rumbling in his chest at my boldness. The sound makes my core clench with need, slick gathering between my thighs as my body responds to his obvious appreciation of my defiance.

This is nothing like the books.

It's better. Real. More intense than any writer could capture.

Even Xavier Knight.

The kiss deepens, heat building between us as I match Damon's intensity. My hands find their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath expensive fabric.

His own grip remains firm on my neck, guiding but never forcing, while his other hand traces patterns on my lower back through my saree.

A small part of my mind registers that we're still in public. Anyone passing our booth could see us, despite Cardinal's strategic lighting designed for discretion. The thought should make me pull away, should remind me of all the cultural taboos I'm breaking.

What would people think, seeing an Omega in traditional dress being so wanton?

I wonder if Damon feels any shame, kissing a woman who's so blatantly going against her culture and values for a taste of pleasure. But then again, are they really my values?

I've never wholeheartedly aligned with the belief that passion should be confined to private spaces, that love and desire are somehow shameful things to be hidden away.

Maybe this is just another form of rebellion.

We break apart when breathing becomes a necessity, though the connection between us remains electric. Damon slowly licks his lips, which are slightly swollen from our heated exchange. The sight sends another wave of heat through my core.

"Sweeter than expected," he confesses with a taunting smirk that darkens his eyes further.

His lustful gaze drops to my lips once more, making it clear he appreciated what I delivered, despite my obvious defiance in matching his passion.

"What if we continue, hmm?" His voice carries a dangerous sort of promise. "Would you be against it?"

"My opinion shouldn't matter, right?" The words come automatically, years of conditioning making me default to Omega submission. "Since I'm an Omega..."

But Damon doesn't respond, doesn't fill the silence with assumptions or commands.

He just watches me, waiting, and something in his patience makes me reconsider.

"But with you..." I find myself saying, the realization dawning as I speak, "in your presence, my enjoyment is important?"

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