Page 75 of Knot Their Girl
“And Mr. Knot-o-roboto.”
“Mr… what?”
“Mr. Knot-o-roboto is the alpha dildo I used to get myself through my first heat.” As I explain exactly what Mr. Knot-o-roboto is, Gideon’s cheeks redden, much like they did when we first met and I said other off-the-wall things. It’s one of the reasons I originally thought he was kind of cute. I mean, what alpha blushes?
He coughs. “Oh. I see. I… see. Well, yes, you have the three of us and your, uh, robotic helper. I’m certain together we can get you through anything.”
I don’t know what makes me ask it, but I do: “Would you use Mr. Knot-o-roboto on me?”
His cheeks flush even harder. “Uh, if you wanted me to, yes.”
“Would you use it on yourself?”
All Gideon does is chuckle awkwardly, and he brings a hand away from the steering wheel to rub the back of his neck as he looks away from me. For an alpha who is typically the calm and collected type, he gets pretty flustered when talking about things like this.
I don’t know why. He seemed eager to be put to use when he was with Pax and I. Personally, I think it’d be kind of sexy to watch him with my silicone knot.
Or even a real knot.
Shit. I squeeze my thighs together and try to think of other things, to stop myself from leaking any sort of perfume that would inform Gideon just how much I like that idea. Think of kitties and puppies. How much I hated high school. Something. Anything else that would get my mind away from the gutter it currently resides in.
Thankfully, I made things awkward enough that all conversation dies after that, and once we get home, I tell Gideon I’m going to invite Mercedes over. I need to talk to somebodyabout all this shit, somebody who can understand where I’m coming from.
While Gideon goes inside the house to tell Pax and Colter about the doctor’s visit, I sit on the front stoop and call Mercedes. Thankfully, she picks up after the first ring. “Hey,” I say, “I really need to talk to someone who doesn’t have a dick swinging between their legs. You want to come over for a bit?”
“Sure. I’m at N.O.A., but I can see if Warren can drop me off at your place.”
After that, it’s a forty-minute wait until Mercedes shows up. Before she has the chance to get out of the car, I see her lean over and give Warren a kiss. Once out, she gives him a wave and a smile as he drives off, and it’s only after he’s fully pulled out of the driveway that she comes and joins me on the steps near the front door.
“So,” she starts, sticking her hands under her knees, “what’s going on? You sounded freaked on the phone.”
The breeze curls around us, and I close my eyes for a few moments before I breathe in deeply and tell her everything. At this point, why not? The first thing I do is tell her that I think I messed up, that I might actually like being where I told myself I’d never be. That I think I like the men in this house, and I’m beyond certain they like me in return.
“That’s not bad at all,” she says. “I told you it sounded like a pack was forming. Darius told me that Pax talked to him about it, too.”
That’s news to me. “Really?”
“Really. He was anxious about it, wanted Darius’s opinion.”
“And what did Darius say?”
“What do you think? Darius wants his brother to be happy, so do their parents. I guess Pax has always been a lone wolf, no one ever thought he’d settle down or find himself a pack.” She leansin toward me and whispers, “But for the right girl, for a scent match, an alpha will do anything.”
I laugh. “A scent match? What do you mean?”
The mirth on my friend’s face fades somewhat. “Oh, crap. You mean Pax didn’t tell you yet?”
“Tell me what?” The only scent match I know is Mercedes and Darius; it makes everything between them feel more intense, the bond between them deeper. It’s fairytale-level stuff, and it doesn’t happen as often as you’d think.
“Pax mentioned he thinks you’re his scent match, but he’s confused about it because you don’t really react to him like a scent match would.” Mercedes bites her bottom lip. “I mean, when I was with Darius, before we bonded, I… it was almost impossible to be in the same room as him and think straight, and he was so standoffish to me that it hurt me inside. If you don’t feel any of that, maybe it’s just dreaming on Pax’s part.”
With a sigh, I bury my face in my hands. Time to confess the rest of the story, since it might have something to do with all that. I tell her about the scent dampeners, about how there might be side effects—the biggest one that I might have a fake heat coming soon. “And,” I say slowly, “it’s messed up my brain somehow. When I smell things, I can’t smell them at all. Like my brain doesn’t register the scent and whether it’s good or bad.”
She takes a moment to process this information. “That would explain why you don’t react, then. You could be scent matches.”
“Only way to tell is time, I guess.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
