Page 5 of Knot for Me
My phone buzzes, and I take it out of my pocket, seeing a text from Cory.
Cory: Have you told her yet?
Lucas: Not yet. I’m getting ready to go in now.
Cory and Marco, the other alphas of my pack, don’t want an omega any more than I do. Our families won’t get heirs out of us. It’s not like the royal line ends if we don’t have kids, and even if it did… the pain of a bond breaking is enough to deter me from finding another mate. No matter how much he pressures me to produce heirs, I can’t bring myself to do it. He doesn’t want grandchildren to play with, he simply wants our line to carry on for generations to come. Deep down, I know he’s hoping that with enough heirs, the royals will once again outnumber the lower alphas.
There are alphas, and then there are pure alphas descended from royal lines. Anyone can give birth to a beta, delta, or omega—but omegas are the only ones that can birth alphas, so when a horny beta or delta manages to get one pregnant, they might end up lucky enough to have an alpha heir. I have no doubt the beta from the closet thought about what he had to gain when he stepped inside with the omega. Fucking power hungry dick.
“Lucas, come in.” Camila’s clipped tone pulls me out of my head, and I tear my gaze from the hallway the feisty omega was dragged down. Her scent is heavy in the air, but I clench my jaw and strut into Camila’s office, ignoring the sweet smell of her beta tainted cum.
“I’m here to—”
“Save it. I already know.” She releases a hard sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose. “How long will you torture yourself?”
She asks me this every month. My answer never changes.
“There are plenty of other alphas.”
“Eleven other packs with pure alpha blood.” She tsks. “You’re doing the world a disservice. Your fathers would want you to move on.”
Two of my fathers don’t give a damn what I do. No, only Cornelius wants me to move on. I’m sure he called her and told her to try and convince me. We’ve been lucky enough to not have another omega forced on us, but I suspect the time will come when he runs out of patience. My father’s role on the Royal Council makes him the most powerful alpha in our society. The Royal Council dictates pack laws, and that means the lower alphas are left out of the decision-making process. It should come as no surprise that the royal lines get everything they want and the lower packs don’t.
My father is not accustomed to people denying him what he wants.
“There are plenty of new pure alphas being birthed.” My cousin James just had twins. That’s two more royal babies for our line.
“Yes, but none from you,” she presses. “I have the perfect omega.” She begins to rifle through a stack of papers. “Well, I had a few candidates, but I think this one is the perfect fit for Pack Bullet.” Once she finds what she’s looking for, she holds out the small packet of paper for me to take. There’s a picture of a pretty woman and a list of her statistics. There’s a full analysis on why she’d fit with my pack. I don’t bother to read the details. My mind is made up.
“No.” I shake my head. “Not this year.”
“Fine, have it your way,” she growls. Omegas and their tempers.
I make a lame attempt to saymaybe next time,but we both know I’m lying. She’s going to call my father and let him know she failed. He won’t punish her, but as a general rule, omegas don’t like to disappoint alphas. She slams the door shut on me as I exit. I inhale the sweet scent of the pissed off omega, growling at the undercurrent of sour beta prick. Despite that asshole’s scent, my dick pulses with interest.
I take back what I said. Most omegas don’t like to disappoint alphas. The one from the hallway? She didn’t seem to give a fuck who she disappointed. She’s not going to be at the Compatibility Ceremony. The omega will be sold off.
The auctions. Typically the only packs that go to the auctions are desperate ones. They find omegas to use and abuse since they’ve been denied their own omega due to pack infractions or their blood. Some alphas are so weak that they don’t get to partake in the Compatibility Ceremony. I’ve never understood why they’d waste a good omega on those packs that hardly have alpha blood. Then there’s the vile men who like to have slaves to torture.
It’s a horrible idea, but I fixate on going and seeing what happens to her, if only to satisfy my curiosity.
My pack could use a maid.
* * *
REAGAN
I’m shoved into a van and handcuffed to the bar attached to the seat in front of me. The handcuffs are made of steel, and are locked tight enough that I can’t pull my hands free. The metal bites into my skin, and the harder I pull, the more I realize I’m going to end up with bruises. I don’t even think I can dislocate my thumb to get my hand free.
Fucking Omega Council. Fucking royal alphas and their stupid need for more babies.
My stomach quivers, and a surge of fear shoots through me. The auctions? Images of naked women chained to a wall so leering men can bid on them flash through my mind. I pinch my eyes shut and count to ten. I know the auctions aren’t like that, but it’s hard to keep my panic from bubbling to the surface.
I’m going to be sold to a pack, and I can’t do anything to stop it. Not that the Compatibility Ceremony is much different, but at least I wouldn’t have been sold off. The auctions are one of the most disgusting parts of our society. The Royal Council doesn’t give a damn about omegas. If they did, they wouldn’t let us be sent to the auctions in the first place. They wouldn’t assign us to packs.
If they really cared about us, they’d give us a choice.
I have no choice. I never have.
