Page 77 of Knot Their Arrangement

At least I think so…

The way Damon's eyes would soften when watching me react to their touches. How Kieran seemed to anticipate my needs before I could voice them. The perfect harmony of their movements, like they were used to sharing not just partners but something deeper.

Like they were used to being a pack with me as their Omega.

If they work so smoothly with one another, I dare imagine how the others blend in their unit. I can only assume there are potentially four of them, though I didn’t really catch the others’ names.

I bet the other two smell good, too. They…all together…probably smell like a vintage coffee shop with a luxury high-end touch and rare drinks, books, and freshly baked sweets.

The thought sends a shiver down my spine.

Could they already have an Omega? No, I would have sensed it on them. Claimed Omegas would go through all means to mark their territory. All nested up with four of them, very visible marks upon their skin and her sweet aroma all over them…

The thought ignites a pool of jealousy I try not to acknowledge.

Their scents were purely Alpha, with no trace of an Omega's claim, and from their characteristics, I don’t think they would cheat…

But they clearly have experience working together, moving in perfect synchronization whether in conversation or intimacy.

There's a history there, a depth of connection that makes me wonder...

"Don't," I whisper to myself. "Don't start imagining futures that can't exist."

At this rate, I should be like Astraea and write books about my crazy life running away from my ex.

I've spent too much time living in romance novels, dreaming of perfect packs and happy endings. Reality is messier and more complicated. These men live in a world I barely understand – a world of power plays and danger that I've only glimpsed tonight.

A world that could swallow me whole if I'm not careful.

Yet even as I try to be practical, to remind myself that this was just a beautiful moment that needs to stay in the past.

Whatever happens at Cardinal stays at Cardinal…

My fingers trace the mark on my neck again, feeling the slight tenderness there.

In my culture, such marks are seen as shameful – evidence of an Omega's lack of control, of submission to base desires.

But this doesn't feel shameful.

It feels like a badge of honor, a reminder that for one night at least, I chose my own pleasure. I decided who could touch me, who could mark me, who could bring me to heights of ecstasy I never knew existed.

That has to be enough.

To carry this memory with me and know that such connections are possible even if they can't last. To have experienced what it feels like to be truly desired and valued, even if only for a few precious hours.

The lipstick gleams perfectly red as I press my lips together one final time. Soon I'll walk out of this washroom, out of this club, back to my life at the Safe Haven.

Back to being a runaway Omega trying to build a new life from the ashes of her old one.

The only difference now is I'll always have tonight.

Always have this memory where I was more than just an Omega to be claimed.

I was an equal partner in pleasure.

Even if it can never be more than that.

I sigh, knowing I can't hide in this washroom forever, no matter how tempting it might be. Delaying the inevitable will only make it harder — better to walk out with my head high while I still have the afterglow of pleasure to bolster my courage.

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