Page 10 of Knot Mine

“Have you ever even seen an asshole?” Our gazes clash together and as if realizing the implication of his question, he quickly follows it with, “God, don’t answer that.”

A hint of pink seems to bloom on his cheeks, and I realize that he isn’t wearing his glasses today and it makes him look…different. I want to slap myself, of course he isn’t wearing his glasses. They’re in my bag, waiting for me to return them.

“Are you offering to show your sister’s boyfriend your asshole? Wow.” Sadie’s sharp voice cuts through the odd staring match we seem to be having. She sashays up the steps and slides into a row of seats. “That’s low, even for you.”

Quickly, I scrub out the offending drawings. The whispering and laughter get louder as the rest of the class filters in, but Shiloh refuses to look away, instead, he pushes his shoulders back and takes a seat.

“What’s going on here?” A voice booms echoing around the lecture theatres the professor enters. I freeze, eraser still in my hand as he glances from me, to the rest of the room. Everyone’s taken their seats now, giving Shiloh a wide berth, all except for Sadie who moves to sit on the row behind him.

“Mr. Blackwood, I suggest you move away from my whiteboard before I write you up.” I open my mouth to protest, to explain that it wasn’t me, but he lifts a hand and cuts me off. “I don’t care if you’re on the football team or if your parents donate, generously, to the college's sponsorship programs. Step away and take a seat.”

Blake, who has no clue what’s just happened or what’s going on, guides me to our seats at the back of the room. For the rest of the class, I sit in silence, lost in my own thoughts. That’s why when Professor Bozniack starts talking about our next class project, I don’t register that I’ve been placed in a group with Shiloh until I get home and login to check the details again.

But there is.

Group Three.

Teddy Roblin, Zo Tracey, Albie Harrison, Eve Dayton, Shiloh Vos and Zale Blackwood.

Shiloh Vos and Zale Blackwood.

Shiloh and Zale.

Chapter Five

Shiloh

“Can’t you just stay a little longer?” Bell begs, refusing to move their legs off my lap. They’re wearing a pair of tiny pajama shorts, an oversized jumper and a pair of thigh high socks while we lay on the sofa and watch a cheesy romcom. It wasn’t my usual choice of film, but Bell was in need of comfort and a happily ever after.

When we’d moved into our apartment just off campus at the start of the school year, it was easily the best decision I’ve ever made. Our place wasn’t exactly tiny, but it was cozy. Bell had filled it with lots of soft furnishings, colorful ornaments and made it homely in a way that my actual home had never been. The little potted plants through-out the two-bedroom apartment were just thepièce de resistance.

The downside was that Bell wasn’t exactly the tidiest housemate, spreading out their stuff on almost every surface and they had a tendency to get a little clingy depending where they were in their cycle. Currently they were due to go into heat, and as a result hated the idea of me leaving the apartment even though the second the heat hit, they’d be shoving me out of the door so they could get laid. I wonder if I’d be seeing Colton, or maybe even Evans around any time soon.

I barely remember the last time I went into heat, the suppressants keeping my cycle from behaving normally. I think it might have been sometime last year? Four times a year was normal for an omega, but some, like my sister and I, could experience it six or seven times. Ironically, it was due to these extra heats that my mother had us register with a specialist. A specialist, who also happened to be a family friend and who for an extortionate amount of money, was happy to keep providing me with suppressants under a fake name.

Some omegas like Bell saw their heats as a time for fun, whereas others like Sadie and my sister saw it as a way to determine your life partner. It wasn't like every heat had to end with a Claiming mark or an unplanned pregnancy, there were precautions and options out there that meant sometimes, heat sex was simply really good heat sex.

My faded bite mark burns, a reminder that someone out there tried to Claim me. My sex life, apart from that one night, was practically non-existent. I couldn’t risk anyone on campus finding out I was an omega, not after everything I’d been through trying to stay on the sidelines until I was done with college.

A small voice in the back of my mind wonders, if I had been in heat, would it have taken? Would I be bound to a stranger right now? Would I be happier?

Sighing softly, I keep rubbing Bell’s feet gently. “Urgh, I wish. But the project is worth 20% of the final grade.”

The stale old tutor had given us a group assignment with a wicked gleam in his eye. Lots of students took his class precisely because they assumed it would be an easy ride but he had apparently drawn a line in the sand with this little task.

While I hadn’t told Bell about the whiteboard, I have no doubt they’d heard about it from someone else. Unlike me, Bell was a social butterfly, flitting amongst the others, makingfriends wherever they went. It was feeding into their need to cling to me like a koala. If I was a kangaroo, they’d be snuggled in my pouch occasionally demanding snacks.

They hadn’t said anything, but had offered me my own bag of chocolate covered pretzels, which was practically unheard of in this apartment, because if we had them, they were gone in the blink of an eye.

Bell whines, the needy noise making me chuckle as they wiggle their socked toes. “But how will they know? If someone else just does it and you all put your names on it?”

Carefully, I lift their legs off me and slide out from underneath. “Because we have to write a critical evaluation to go with it? And I will know.”

“You could just lie.” Bell tuts, as if that was the obvious answer.

“Who does that?” Why would people pay stupid amounts of money to not even take part in the class properly? Why even bother coming to college?

Checking my reflection in the hallway mirror, I run my hands through my dark waves in a lazy attempt to tame them. Bell liked to buy products especially for curly hair, and recently I’d been using it to try and make my waves look less like I was dragged backwards through a bush and more…deliberate? It wasn’t working, clearly.

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