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KNOX

“No one will take you seriously unless your pack finds a mate, Mr. Hastings.”

Story of my life.

This is all I’ve been hearing for the last several months. Everyone in my political team seems to think that an omega for my pack will elevate my status within the polls.

This time … I’m inclined to agree.

We’re down several points in the poll, and all of the loss revolves around the fact that my pack has not yet settled down.

They say it’s a travesty that such a prolific pack does not have its one and only.

Most of the population says that a pack of such standing needs an omega to balance them out, making them level-headed.

I don’t need an omega to do that, but it’s clear to everyone else that my pack does. My pack has come this far without needing an omega.

Yes, we have our moments when the stress becomes overwhelming. Yes, Tripp has nearly succumbed to alpha rut several times over the past few years. However, that does not mean we cannot effectively perform our jobs or focus on what needs to be done.

Boone, Tripp, and I do not need an omega to balance us out. We do that ourselves.

We don’t want to be tied down to a little woman who will cage us and turn us into entirely different people.

However, with the latest polls, I’m inclined to agree that something needs to be done.

I sigh, taking off my glasses and pinching the bridge of my nose to stave off the headache that is trying to form.

“I hear what you’re saying. A mate would elevate our standing and make the public see we’re serious.

You don’t know what you’re asking, though.

None of you know the kind of shit you’re asking. ”

“Yes, we do!” booms another campaign team member. “We understand that your pack does not want an omega, but the fact remains the same, Mr. Hastings. You all need an omega to show the public that you are serious and that you are the family man you claim to be.”

Fuck it all. I knew I shouldn’t have said that at the last town meeting. Somewhere down inside, I knew that would come back to bite me in the ass.

“Tripp barely kept himself in check the last time he smelled an omega in heat. You and Boone had to restrain him without the public knowing of the incident. All the poor girl was doing was trying to get a cup of coffee, and Tripp nearly went on a rampage. Thankfully, she was the only customer in there that day. And thankfully , we had enough money in the reserve to pay off the coffee shop to stay quiet about the incident.”

I run my hand through my tousled hair and fall back into my seat.

The plush leather seat hugs me as I sit there and think of what the ramifications of that day could have been.

If it hadn’t been for Boone and me, Tripp would’ve lost it on the poor girl.

Even though she wasn’t our scent match, that did not stop his alpha side from going berserk.

The scent of an omega in heat is an aphrodisiac to an alpha, whether they’re a scent match or not. The only way an omega’s heat does not bother an alpha is if that alpha is marked and mated.

Tripp, Boone, and I are neither marked nor mated.

“I know Tripp can be a little bit to handle, but Boone and I did a pretty damn good job.”

“To what avail?” Jeffery, my campaign manager, asks.

We’ve been sitting in my home office for hours, reviewing how to reverse my status in the polls.

At this rate, Winston Markums will beat me in the upcoming election if I don’t turn things around.

Winston is the epitome of a family man. His pack has their scent match omega and two point five children to back up his claims as being a bona fide family man.

I do not. The only thing I have is an empty house and two packmates.

As it stands, I will lose the next election. Not by much, but I will still come in second best. That is simply not good enough. My team did not work as hard as we’ve worked for my status to drop now.

“I hear what you’re saying, but I’m telling you this—my pack does not have the time or energy to find an omega.

I’m swamped. Boone is up to his neck in dissertations that he needs to grade.

Tripp is in over his head with that motorcycle shop he just opened in the next town.

My pack simply does not have the time to woo an omega to mate with us. ”

It's not the fact that my pack is unmateable. We’re one of the most eligible packs in Cedar Hill.

However, just because we are not unmateable does not mean we have the time to find a mate.

I’m up to my eyeballs in work that needs to be done, and I do not need to split my attention between work and an omega’s needs.

“And we’re telling you that you need to make time,” Jeffery states, his eyes holding a determination that makes me antsy. “We’re only going to keep dropping more and more. Then, before too long, you won’t even be in the running.”

“That’s not true,” I huff, already over this conversation.

Ignoring me, he opens the file in his hand and shoves a paper at me. It floats down on the desk, the words on the paper taunting me. It’s a light pink, almost white, flyer with black lettering. However, that’s not what has me jerking upright in my seat and glaring at him.

The words … Select-A-Mate … Take a chance at your Happily Ever After … are what grab my attention.

“What the fuck is this?” I ask, already knowing but wanting him to confirm the clusterfuck that is this flyer.

“It’s a match program for alphas and omegas.”

I cock a brow. “Explain.”

He eagerly slides onto the edge of his seat. His eyes are wide, alarmingly bright, and ecstatic. “So, this program helps alphas and omegas find their match. It’s kind of like speed dating, except you end up with your scent match at the end.”

I’m skeptical but no less intrigued. “What happens if you’re not matched with your scent match? What if they get it wrong?”

“That’s the thing. I’ve already called and asked them a ton of questions.

They said if you end up with someone you cannot mutually get along with and is not your scent match, they will allow you to fall back into the pool of alphas to be paired again.

However, it has to be a mutual disconnect , and you cannot willfully botch the pairing, or you’re out of the program for good. ”

“What, will they take my birthday away if my pack botches a pairing?”

This time, he’s silent, like he doesn’t want to say the next words. Something has him clamming up, and I hate to know what that something is. Yet I need to know; my curiosity is eating at me.

“Well?”

He sighs. “The side that botches the pairing will be publicly humiliated. Their names will be put on the ‘no match’ list on their website and in the newspaper, along with the reasoning for why they are on the ‘no match’ list.”

“That’s unethical, not to mention downright degrading,” I reply.

He nods. “They do that so that no alpha or omega will willfully and knowingly botch a match through their program. It’s the reason their program has been so successful.”

I pick up the piece of paper and read through it. It talks of taking the program seriously, hoping an alpha or alpha pack finds its omega. It goes on to say that their quest is to perfect the match between alphas and omegas, making finding someone’s scent match much easier.

I hate it already.

“We’re not going to do it.” I already know if the guys and I do this, we won’t be able to go through with the program.

We have certain standards that we like, and it will be hard for someone to find our scent match on the first try, if at all.

I do not have the time to go on dates or woo any omega that wants to be with my pack.

“It’s a waste of time, Jeffery.”

“Sir, no, it’s not. Just think of how you can pull ahead if this works out. Finding someone’s scent match is the most rewarding thing ever. Trust me, I know. If you can find that, don’t you want to at least try?”

My eyes harden. “You don’t think my pack wants to find our scent match omega? Of course, we do. It’s all an alpha is taught growing up; we search for our scent match mate until we find him or her. I’m thirty years old, Jeffery. If I was going to find my mate, I would have before now.”

“Just give it a try.”

Something inside of me warms at the thought of having an omega. No, I don’t really have time for an omega, but that doesn’t mean I never want to have that connection. Having one's scent match is supposed to be the most rewarding thing, as Jeffery stated, any one alpha can have.

Just then, one of the other campaign members runs into the room with papers in his hand. His eyes are wide and frightened. Dread settles in my stomach.

“What is it?” I ask, fearing the worst.

“We’ve dropped another ten points in the polls. By this rate, we won’t even place when election time comes around.”

Shit.

I settle my elbows on my desk and run my fingers through my hair again.

At this rate, I will be bald by the time I’m thirty-five.

My father made this look so easy when he was running for senator.

He didn’t even sweat when he fell behind in the polls because he knew he had the votes.

I don’t know how he was so insightful, but he knew he’d win. There was never a doubt in his mind.

My eyes flick back down to the paper in front of me.

Take a chance on your Happily Ever After …

The words on the page taunt me. It feels like a noose around my neck. Between the polls and Tripp, I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place.

Ever since I was little, I dreamed of becoming Mayor of this town. Watching my father has been rewarding. He was a steadfast man with a one-track mind. He made sure that the most critical issues were tackled first and foremost. He never faltered—not once. He’s my hero.

I want to be just like him, and that dream is slipping away.

The solution is staring me in the face, but I’m reluctant.

I know how bad things can get when a match isn’t a scent match.

This program promises to match you until you get your scent match, but that could take years. Years that I don’t have.

Apparently, I need a mate now . There is no more waiting. The mate I need is one who can run within my social circle with ease. It’s a bombshell knockout that can handle the masses and let remarks roll off her back like a drop of water does a meek flower.

I need someone desperate yet put together.

“There has to be another way,” I say. “This cannot be the only solution.”

As my team races around to develop different avenues to raise my standing, I’m left to my own devices. It’s not a pretty thing when I have time to think. My head is a mess, and only one thing keeps reverberating inside my mind.

I want a mate … but I don’t want a mate simultaneously. All a mating brings is disappointment. My dad went through three omegas before he settled on my stepmother. She was finally his scent match. He found her unexpectedly one time when he was out in our neighboring community rallying.

The moment he caught her scent, he knew she was his. It didn’t matter that he was with my first stepmother then. He filed for divorce without a second thought. His only saving grace is that the lawyer he hired was part of a pack whose scent matched my first stepmother’s.

My stepmother didn’t even contest the divorce after that.

She was head over heels in love with my dad’s lawyer and had her things removed from our home before the end of the week.

I see her from time to time. She’s heavily pregnant and expecting her first baby.

She absolutely glows and’s so happy, unlike the miserable expression she used to wear when she was with my father after a few years.

I admire my father, but don’t want to end up like him, relationship-wise.

I also can’t sit here and allow my dreams to go down the drain. My team and I have worked too hard to see it all crumble into dust now. Countless hours were spent going over our approach to the masses.

“I shouldn’t have settled on the ‘family man’ approach. I should have gone with something else,” I murmur, uncaring if anyone can hear me.

As I sit and ponder what to do next, my cell rings. Checking the caller ID, I see it’s Boone trying to reach me. Sighing, I grab the device and accept the call.

Not knowing that on the other end was nothing but chaos.

“Tripp is rutting. You need to get to his shop. Fast.”

Dammit!