Page 7 of Knot Gonna Lie
“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he corrected with carefully measured words that carried the weight of diplomacy. “It wasn’tmy intention to upset either of you, so please don’t take offense at any of my actions. I’ll be more conscious in the future.”
I believed him…And for my sake, I wished I would meet him again, and soon.
Forcing myself to look away from him, I leaned past Quinn and reached for the jewelry case. I picked up the three-tiered necklace designed to tempt eyes to trace my spine along my bare back and gently bounced the precious stones, feeling their surprising weight in my hand. It seemed strange how something so small could weigh so much and be worth more than most people saw in a lifetime.
“If you were me, which one would you wear?”
“That would be easy,” he purred, the growling sound from his throat making me shiver as goosebumps spread across my skin like ripples on still water. “If I were you, I would wear the choker to show all the alphas in that room that if they wanted me, they would have to work hard to prove themselves worthy of marking me.”
CHAPTER FOUR
ELARA
“I want him,” I whined, pacing into my room, restless and burning—frustration curling in my chest like something spoiled and aching.
Not even the comfort of my own nest could ease the burning need to return to Glamorous Gems, to discover if Mr. Coco still lingered there with his clan like some beautiful mirage I’d conjured from desperation. I cursed myself for being so enthralled by his scent that I’d failed to summon the courage to ask why he graced the station with his presence—and for whom. I should have been bold enough to request his attendance before me tomorrow, to have him stand among the possibilities in The Den’s arena.
After all, who possessed enough madness to refuse an invitation to stand on The Den floor?
There were no love marks upon his visible skin. No trace of foreign scent or resistance when I’d touched him.
“It’s your approaching heat talking,” Quinn scoffed, settling into the chair beside my window with the weariness of someonewho’d navigated this conversation countless times before. “You don’t want him. You just want what his scent promises. Once you enter The Den tomorrow, you’ll be overwhelmed by the symphony of aromas calling to you—Mr. Coco will be just a whisper in the grand scheme of possibilities.”
“How can you be so certain?”
Sighing, I fell backward onto my nest and sank into its layers of cushions with a soft thump, the familiar embrace offering little solace. There was nothing like being surrounded by comfort, cradled by warmth as security washed over me, yet something about the entire encounter in the jewelry store felt fundamentally wrong. Not even my sanctuary could ease the ache blooming in my chest like a flower of longing.
I reached for the nearest pillow, pulling it against me and wrapping my arms around its circular softness. Glancing toward my wide window, I watched the vastness of space, wishing I could be anywhere but here, trapped between wanting and waiting.
My skin felt restless—itchy—and the lack of companionship was finally overwhelming me with its weight.
I didn’t have an alpha or a pack to call my own. Instead, I was being tended by a gamma who could never fill the void expanding in my heart like a black hole consuming light.
Quinn was a temporary foundation, keeping me grounded until my time to choose arrived. Now that I was ready for The Den, her pull on me was dimming like stars at dawn. That was probably why her scent hadn’t calmed me as it used to. She’d needed to cover my nose with her wrist to override the magnetic draw Mr. Coco held over me.
“Tell me what’s troubling you, Elara.” She sounded tired, as if she were pleading for answers to riddles written in languages she couldn’t read. “We have everything you need for tomorrow. The only remaining task is ensuring you rest well for yourmeeting with the Matron early in the morning. Then we’ll wait in our assigned suite at The Den until you’re called to the arena around midday. What happens next rests entirely with you. So tell me, what must I do to brighten your evening before your momentous day?”
“Tell me Mr. Coco will be there,” I muttered, forcing myself not to get my hopes up. “I need to know whether I should prepare for disappointment or possibility.”
“Are you so fixated on him that you’re willing to overlook other perfectly eligible alphas?”
“His scent isn’t the only thing drawing me to him,” I explained, rolling onto my stomach and kicking off my boots as I faced her. Swaying my feet in the air, I hugged my pillow and watched my gamma regard me with pursed lips and calculating eyes like a strategist studying a complex battlefield. “There was something about how he stood against Owen, how he didn’t retreat from my touch. With his own credits, he took time to ensure my wellbeing, that my experience at the shop wasn’t ruined. How could I not be attracted to such kindness?”
“There’s nothing wrong with his actions,” Quinn said, tilting her head as she approached my nest. Stopping just before my pile of blankets and pillows, she drew a deep breath and shook her head like someone dispelling unwelcome thoughts. “Are you certain you want me to examine the roster of alphas registered for your arena and tell you if his name appears?”
“Yes, please.” I nodded, biting my bottom lip with barely contained excitement. “Let me know if he’s on the general list or specifically mine.”
“Fine.” Quinn huffed as she retrieved her tablet from her belt, pressing her hand onto its screen to unlock the device with practiced efficiency. “Don’t be devastated if his name isn’t listed.”
“It has to,” I mumbled. Then, returning my gaze to the vast space just outside my window, I took in a quick breath and prayed to whatever almighty deities governed love and fate that were popular these days. “Why else would he be here?”
“Not every visiting alpha is here for a chance at The Den,” Quinn pointed out as her calming scent thickened in the air, covering me like one of my own blankets woven from morning mist and hope. “Some are here for business, trading, or managing their taxes. He could’ve been here to pay his sponsor dues, being an alpha co-owning a business.”
“Is that how this station maintains itself?” I asked, watching space traffic glide past my window like dancers performing an intricate ballet. The high-tech designs moved with fluid precision, sleek merchant ships zigging and zagging around bulky cargo vessels with the grace of children playing among their elders. The older cargo vessels could easily dock multiple merchant ships, yet their size made them appear lesser somehow. I suspected the owners of cargo vessels possessed equal or greater wealth than those who chose to display their success through flashy merchant ships.
Most alphas loved showcasing their wealth to peers through fancy possessions—ships, seasonal houses, clothing, and jewelry. This made some successful betas attempt the same, hoping to prove they could match alphas regardless of their sub-gender class.
I’d encountered a few such individuals over the years. They tended to splurge on unnecessary items while making theatrical displays of their purchases. While some omegas were impressed by such exhibitions, I found them gaudy. Why waste credits on superficial things when they would never truly become alphas? Furthermore, there existed clear divisions between each sub-gender class that couldn’t be altered regardless of suppressants or hormones consumed.
