Page 5 of Her Knotty Alphas

Chapter 3

Enzo

"Just a little off the top," I tell the beautiful omega I have a rather inappropriate crush on as I sit in her salon chair.

"Wow, Enzo, third week in a row. I don't know anyone else who's more on top of their haircuts than you." Hannah smiles at me in the mirror as she fastens the cape around my neck.

"Oh, yes…my hair grows…erm…very fast."

Very smooth, Enzo.

There's no way that I'm going to tell her that I came in a few days ago, only to be told by the flustered beta at the front desk that Hannah was out sick for "omega things". There's only one thing he could have been talking about, which is her heat. The thought of other alphas being anywhere near her has my skin crawling, but I have to put on a mask of calm. There's no way she can find out just how much knowing that affects me.

She laughs, which settles my alpha somewhat, it's a light twinkling sound I want to hear from her lips again, and again, and again. "My dad was the same way," she says, like she's recalling a fond memory. It's on the tip of my tongue to ask her. Why she's saying "was", instead of "is". What happened to her father. But it's bad enough that I'm back here again to begin with.

Ishouldbe staying away. I'm at least ten years older than her, maybe more. But Hannah just has this...this…quality to her. I wish I could tell what she smells like, but this salon is very strict on their rules—de-scenter is required for all patrons and stylists. All hair washes are done with de-scenting products, so pheromones don't mix into the air. Then, on top of that, omegas have the option to line their nostrils with pheromone suppressing gel, so they aren't overwhelmed if something does go wrong and an alpha's scent comes out.

Part of my alpha nature is glad that nobody else can scent her, and that she can perform her job safely without having to worry about her pheromones. The more selfish part of me is just as annoyed thatIcan't scent her.

"No wash?" She asks, threading her fingers through the hair on the top of my head to test the length, and I have to suppress a groan. "Just spray?"

Swallowing roughly, I nod, glad that she can't discern the blush that's creeping up my neck due to the tone of my skin. Mexican-American heritage for the win. The first time I camehere, she washed my hair in one of the little basins, and the feeling of her fingers massaging into my scalp and the sensation of warm water on my skin had me nearly purring.

Purring. For the pretty little omega I have no business purring for.

Swallowing roughly, I nod. "That's fine. I just need to keep it clean cut. You know, my—"

"Your job," she gives me a knowing smile, "do they go around with rulers to measure the length of your hair like HOA's do to grass in the ritzier neighborhoods?"

Her question has me barking a laugh, the visual more than a little amusing. Truth be told, the college I teach at doesn't give two flying fucks about how long my hair is. I hardly care. But I came in here a month ago for a trim before starting my new position and I haven't been able to stay away since. I tip generously each time, my alpha swelling with pride at the knowledge we're helping take care of our omega.

No. Wait. Notouromega. I hardly know the girl. She's too young for me. Too pure. Too beautiful to be under the hands of someone like me, who needs complete control. No. For now, I need to be content with these frequent, unnecessary haircuts. It's all I'll allow myself of her.

She starts to spray down my hair, and pulls out the clippers, gently pushing my head forward. Her touch is like a brand on my skin, and I screw my eyes shut tight, breathing through my nose. But then, the loud buzzing of the clippers start, and it's like a white-noise machine, heightening my other senses. Her wrist, one of the places where her scent would be strongest, slips by my nose as she uses a rag to dust off clippings from my face, and I catch a whiff of…something.

I can't tell what it is, because just as quickly as I register the anomaly, it's gone, and I'm met with the slightly chemical smell that de-scenting lotion leaves behind. Whatever it was has meglad that I'm wearing this cape though, because my cock is now standing proud at attention, no matter how much I mentally will it down.

Whatever that was…fuck. I have no idea what that was. And now, as she moves on to trimming the top with scissors and making sure everything is even, I can't catch another whiff. "Hannah?" I ask, and she glances down at me in the mirror before answering.

"Yeah?"

"Do you believe in true scent matches?" I have no idea what possesses me to ask the question. Whatever I scented couldn't be her scent. We all have de-scenter on. Maybe…maybe she sprayed herself with some kind of perfume after. A perfume that drags more of a reaction out of me than I had for my true scent match, all those years ago. Before she left us.

She stills for a moment, before continuing what she was doing. "I do. My best friend met her pack around five months ago. True scent match." She smiles softly, then shakes her head. "I don't know if I believe in being fated mates or anything like that, but I do know that she seems really happy. She just…she was so miserable before, I don't think she even realized. And now…now, she justglows."

I give her a small smile in the mirror. "Ah. My brother and his pack found his not too long ago as well. I've never seen him happier."

"Why do you ask?" She asks curiously, finishing up the haircut and dusting off my shoulders.

"Call it an old man's curiosity." I keep my eyes on her as she takes the cape off me.

She scoffs, and shoots me an incredulous look. "You arenotan old man."

"How old do you think I am?" I arch a brow as I pull out my wallet, finding the cash I need to pay for my haircut. I don't needto look in the mirror. I know that there'll still be a little pepper in my deep brown hair, and that the cut will be perfect, just like it is every time.

"I— That's not—" She sputters, her cheeks turning a little pink, a nice complement to her rosy hair. "I don't know how to answer that."

"I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours?" I say, in a dangerously close to flirty tone.

---