Page 14 of Knot for Me
There are no atrocious portraits of alphas past or obnoxious self-portraits. The art on the wall is abstract, clearly expensive, but not self-indulgent. It serves a purpose—to make you think—and isn’t there for vanity’s sake.
“Right, that was kind of obvious.” He turns and heads to the kitchen. The chef style oven and stove are huge, and there’s a big butcher block island with barstools on one side of it. An overhead rack hangs down and pans dangle from it, ready to be grabbed and used. This kitchen is fit for somebody who likes to cook.
Hopefully, these guys don’t expect me to be their personal chef too. I cannot cook. The one time I tried to make my grandma’s lasagna, I burned it. The memory is yet another reminder of how bad I am at being an omega. Along with being the baby-making-machine of the pack, omegas are also the ones who typically take care of the cooking. Matronly duties, if you will.
“Kitchen. We cook things here,” Cory says with a cute little frown. He reaches up and adjusts his hair, brow furrowing. He’s way overthinking things.
I want to tease him, but he seems a little unsure of how to handle me and the tour. I keep my mouth shut and nod, letting him think he’s doing a great job. I don’t want him to hate me right away. I’ll have to learn to keep my sarcasm to myself for a little while. Once we’ve established that I’m a sarcastic asshole and my comments are usually meant for laughs, the teasing can commence.
We may not be mates, but we can get along. Right?
I follow him through the house, trying not to laugh every time he grunts out the name of the rooms downstairs. There’s a fairly big library at the back and an equally large ballroom, which I find a little odd, but theyareroyal. You know how the royals love to dance. We head up the first flight of stairs where there are several bedrooms. The more he shows me the house, the more I realize that this will be where they’ll stay with their future omega. My stomach knots at the thought, but I quickly shove aside any inherent jealousy. I have no right.
He jerks his thumb in the direction of the room in the corner. “That’s my room.” He points to the one at the far end of the hallway. “That’s Lucas’ room.” He points to the one across from Lucas’ room. “Marco’s room.”
I nod then let my eyes stray to the remaining door next to us which is currently closed.
“This will be yours.” He opens the door and turns on the light, revealing a large bedroom with an oversized-king bed. The door to the en suite bathroom is open, and I can make out the shape of a jacuzzi style bath and white and black marble tile covering the floor.
“Holy bathtubs,” I murmur, leaving him in the main room and heading to the glorious space where I plan to spend many nights soaking in bubble-filled water. There’s a sink with a decent amount of space for getting ready and a giant walk-in closet. I go there next, stopping short. The racks are full of clothes, and a faint scent that makes my nose twitch lingers inside the space.
“Are these clothes for me?” I glance over my shoulder.
Cory grimaces and shakes his head. “No.”
Oh. Oookaay. Cool. No big deal, just another woman’s clothes hanging up inmyroom.My omega instincts want me to rip them all off the hangers and throw them into a pile, lighting a match so I can watch them burn and chase away any traces of whoever the woman was. She was obviously important enough to take up a permanent space in their house.
“I’ll go get your suitcase. Do you need to call anyone?” He holds up his phone, offering it to me.
“No, I’m good.” I have my phone in my bags, but I’m avoiding it for a reason. My mom will not be happy with what I’ve done. She’s been waiting for me to get matched since my pheromones hit. I’m not ready for the fallout. By now, Camila has probably called her to gloat about how I screwed up.
It’ll crush her, but my sister turns twenty-one in three years. Megan is a good omega and already has two scrapbooks dedicated to her future. One lays out all her bonding celebration plans and the other goes into excruciating detail for when she’s pregnant. Seriously. The girl has already picked out cribs and wallpaper.
Not to mention my little brother. Once he’s grown, he’ll have a pack of his own, just like my older brothers. For a moment, guilt washes over me. It’s my fault my parents don’t talk to them anymore.
Megan is the surest bet for grandchildren.
Mom will be fine.
I, on the other hand, may suffer some. I turn to leave the bathroom, but the scent in the closet chases me. I wave my hand in front of my nose. Cory looks over my shoulder, frowning at the bathroom.
“You can open the windows, and I can order you an air purifier.”
“That would be awesome,” I say. “I have sage in my suitcase too.”
He wrinkles his nose in confusion, tapping away at his phone. This man is efficient with online ordering. I’m sure Rainforest, the web-based sales company, makes a fortune off of him.
“You’ve never cleansed the air before?”
Another confused look.
“Go get my bags. I’ll show you how.”
Once he leaves the room, I race to the window and yank it up. I rest my elbows on the sill, breathing in the fresh air and focusing on counting my breaths to keep from totally freaking out. Omegas are territorial, and apparently I don’t have to mate with the guys to get mad about another woman being here. Obviously, they had partners before me, and they probably still will, but the irrational part of my brain wants to find whoever those chicks are and gouge their eyeballs out with a rusty spoon. Tetanus, anyone?
“Here we go,” Cory says from the doorway.
I straighten and face him, catching his eyes jumping away from my ass. “Thanks,” I say, smirking and going to the blue suitcase. I open it and grab the bag of sage bundles and matches.
