Page 1 of Knot a Tie
ChapterOne
Rayne
Three Months Ago
“Are you absolutely sure about this, Rayne?” Doctor Fredericks asks me for the third time.
“Yes,” I state with as much finality as I can muster. I’m not that great at being assertive, but I do try now and again when it suits me.
Her steely grey eyes pierce mine, searching them, looking for signs of…well, I don’t really know. The possibility that I’m going to take the heat suppressants I’m after and sell them on the black market? Not likely. I want them forme. I am three months away from my twenty-first birthday and I’ll be damned if I’m going into my first heat unmated.
Not a chance in hell.
I have enough alphas sniffing around me as it is, trying to mate with me. But none of them float my boat. That comes with the territory when you are wealthy, pretty and of course, the big one…unmated.Even if I manage to find a pack I like in the next three months, no way am I risking getting pregnant so soon. Not that I don’t want kids. I do. But I want to know my pack first. “You know you can only use them for six months and then you need to come off them for three months, so you must time this correctly if you are adamant about this course.”
“I know, and I am.” I cross my arms over my chest, hopefully to show her I mean business. She is my dad’s personal physician and has been for as long as I’ve been alive, if not longer. She is elderly, heavyset with grey hair and a constitution that usually scares the knickers off me.
Not today, Rayne. Stay your course.
“I will have to seek your father’s approval, of course,” she says as a test. I know it’s a test. I can see it in her eyes.
“Go ahead,” I say, coolly. “He knows I’m here.”
The surprise in her eyes makes me want to giggle. She so wasn’t expecting that, the old twat.
“Really,” she says in such a derogatory tone, I nearly flinch. “Well, in that case, get on the scales.”
I blink and swallow. Okay, this was the part I wasn’t looking forward to. I avoid scales like the plague. I’m five foot one, fairly large breasted, with thighs that meet in the middle. To say I’m a bit curvy is definitely accurate. I’m not huge, but I’m not super skinny either. I dress to accentuate my assets with the help of a personal shopper but scales? They don’t lie to you. If I was taller, I’d be happy with my body, but I’m so fucking short, it makes me cringe.
I slip my skyscraper heels off, plus the light-weight black cardigan, leaving me in my floaty black trousers and vest top. I take off the feminine gold Rolex from my left wrist and place it carefully on the desk of this grey office that matches the dour doctor to a tee. Then I remove the gold bangle from my other wrist, along with the pretty aquamarine and platinum ring that matches my eyes and that I wear on the middle finger of my right hand. I set them down and lick my lips. Doctor Fredericks is sitting back, her arms crossed, watching this with amusement.
Horrid old cow.
She probably knew I had a phobia about this.
Clearing my throat, and throwing my head back so my light brown hair bounces around my shoulders in waves, I walk the two paces to the big doctors’ scales and step on. Sucking in my stomach, like that’s going to help, I close my eyes, not wanting to see what it says.
She stands up and moves in next to me. “Hmm,” she murmurs.
I crack an eye to see her peering down at the scales, bent over like she needs to get closer to read what it says.
Then she straightens up and goes back to her desk to type it into her computer.
Hmm.
Hmm.
Hmm?
What the fuck does ‘hmm’ mean?
“Everything okay?” I croak out, needing to know, but stepping off the scales quickly so I don’t look down.
I hear the needle fire back to zero and wince.
“Fine,” she says. “A little heavy for your height, but we can’t all be supermodels, can we?” She gives me a superior glare that grates on my last nerve.
“No, we can’t, as I’m sure you know yourself.”
