Page 6 of Knotting the Cowboys

And I'm still here, inappropriate and unsuitable, carrying a name that was supposed to be stronger and a designation that makes me weak in everyone's eyes but my own.

I can't just stand here until the sun sets. No way can I let them win this easily.

My feet carry me back toward the hotel door before my brain catches up, desperation overriding common sense. The bell chimes again as I push inside, and both the clerk and the Alpha manager look up with matching expressions of irritation.

"I said we're not—" the manager starts, but I cut him off.

"You can't do this." My voice comes out stronger than I feel, though the rasp undermines whatever authority I'm trying to project. "There are laws against designation discrimination. Federal laws."

He actually laughs—this soft, condescending chuckle that makes my skin crawl.

"Little Omega wants to quote law at me? In my establishment?"

"It's not about what I want. It's about what's right." I plant my feet, even as every instinct screams at me to bare my neck, to submit, to make myself smaller until the threat passes. "I'm a paying customer. You can't refuse service based on?—"

"Based on keeping our other guests safe?" He steps around the desk, and I force myself not to step back. "You know what happens when unmated Omegas stay here? Other Alphas get ideas. Fights break out. People get hurt and don’t get me started on the whole Heat mismanagement since none of Omegas seem to figure out when your Heats are scheduled to riddle through your vulnerable bodies!"

Damn him.

I try to ignore that tidbit because it’s not our fault that nothing has been made to give Omegas a chance at tracking their Heats. Like give us a potential monthly tracker or something. Surely they have the right technology to do so in this time and age.

No. They just don’t want to…

"So punish them, not me."

"You are the disruption." He's closer now, using his height advantage to loom. "Your kind always are. Walking around unmarked, unclaimed, practically begging for trouble."

"My kind?" The rage burns hotter, chasing away the exhaustion for one blessed moment. "You mean people trying to exist? People who just need a bed for the night?"

"I mean Omegas who don't know their place." His voice drops to a growl, and my body betrays me—knees weakening, breath catching, this damn biology of a body responding to an Alpha's displeasure despite my fury. "Who come into respectable establishments thinking they can make demands."

"A room isn't a demand, it's a basic?—"

"Enough." The bark of Alpha command hits me into silence. My words die in my throat, muscles locking even as I fight against the compulsion. "You've been told no. Repeatedly. Now you're trespassing."

I manage to force words past the command's grip.

"You can't... this isn't..."

"Cheryl, call the sheriff." He doesn't look away from me. "Tell him we have an unruly Omega causing a disturbance."

"Please." I hate how the word comes out—small, desperate, exactly what he expects from an Omega. "I just need?—"

"What you need is an Alpha to teach you manners." He grabs my arm, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. "Since you don't have one, guess I'll have to escort you out myself."

I try to wrench away, but he's already dragging me toward the door. My bag catches on a chair, spilling open, and he doesn't slow down. Clothes scatter across the pristine lobby floor—my life laid out for judgment, shabby and insufficient.

"Let go!" The words tear at my damaged throat. "You can't?—"

"I can and I am." He yanks the door open, practically throwing me onto the porch. I stumble, barely catching myself on the railing. "And if you come back, you'll be dealing with more than just me."

The door slams shut.

Through the glass, I can see the clerk already gathering my scattered belongings, holding them between two fingers like they're contaminated. She opens the door just enough to toss them onto the porch before retreating back inside.

My hands shake as I gather my things, shoving wrinkled clothes back into the bag.

A couple walking past speeds up, averting their eyes from the scene. Of course. No one wants to get involved when an Alpha disciplines an Omega, even here on Main Street in broad daylight.

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