Page 14 of Love Me Knot, Part One (Knotty Omegas #1)

Knocking the AC down a few more degrees because this heat sucks , I strip. Silky shorts that barely cover my ass and a matching tank top feel like heaven, especially when I flip the fans on high and burrow under the lightest blankets I have. I’m still warm, but once the air kicks on, I’ll be okay.

My sketchbook’s on the bed, almost full despite being relatively new. Leaning heavily into work has been my escape from the dissolution stress and, despite today’s bullshit, I’m not going to stop.

On a clean page, I put pencil to paper and watch lines become the soft curves of a balconette bra with matching cheeky panties.

They’re dainty and beautiful, each dotted with pearls and peeks of flesh enhanced with netting.

I can see a range of colors displayed in the window of my storefront and I let myself hold the vision of it. The dream.

My hand speeds up, finishing up the sketch faster than ever. There’s an itch under my skin, an urge to move burning just beneath the surface. The design’s so real, I can practically feel the fabric against my skin. I have to make it now.

My sewing room is the only part of the house that’s put together, so I know I don’t have the right fabric for this set.

Gnawing on my lip, I debate using something else to save money, but I know it won’t feel right.

Besides, shopping is a surefire way to make me feel better. I just won’t spend a lot.

For a moment, I worry about changing, but fuck it. Most people will be home, anyway.

One quick trip to Diamond’s, then I’ll come home to sew until I can’t hold a needle anymore.

Tomorrow, I’ll go through every piece of correspondence with my exes again.

Hopefully, there’s some mention of that fucking contract we missed before.

Something we can use to keep my business intact and not let down the people I love most.

My car’s barely out of the garage when my phone goes off. Knowing it’s probably the group chat again, I hit the brake and snatch it up, only to frown.

It’s Heat Tracker.

According to our calculations, you are dangerously close to your heat. Stay indoors, stay hydrated, stay safe—and enjoy!

I read it again and again, but the words never change.

This can’t be right.

A week after getting the storefront, I went on a shot for my heat suppressant. I liked that I only needed to get it every three months, but the side effects were killer. Migraines, weekly periods, bloating so bad nothing fit. And the mood swings. Oh my god, the mood swings.

After the second shot expired, I switched to a daily dose instead. I already have a birth control implant, so it was only going to be one pill in the morning. No problem.

The inside zipper of my purse reveals the suppressant case where ninety stark white pills glare at me.

How did this happen?

I remember picking them up from the pharmacy and heading into court right after, where my exes read out an itemized list of my shopping on the pack accounts in court. And I mean everything down to the vibrators and lube I preferred. No wonder I didn’t remember.

Shit, shit, shit.

Now that I’m paying attention, I feel the low-grade fever, the sweat on my brow and the desperate urge to burrow that’s been festering for days. What I assumed was anxiety is actually the initial heat cramps. They’re not bad, but they’ll get there soon enough.

A spike of terror shoots through me. I’ve never had to deal with a heat alone.

It can be excruciating, even deadly, without someone to help.

I could go to a heat center, but the notoriously pro-alpha Omega Protection Agency runs the ones closest to my place.

Without knowing they’ve received my dissolution notice, there’s no guarantee they won’t call Pack Parker when I’m too out of it to argue.

Considering the shit they’ve pulled since I left, a forced bonding doesn’t seem so out of character. I can’t risk it.

Mellie’s horror stories of funky smelling alphas from apps make them just as unappealing and with my cash tied up in the storefront and lawyer’s fees, I don’t have the money to rent a room at Aura or hire an escort for the entirety of my heat, either. In the end, there’s only one place to go.

Revelry’s a free heat center that allows every omega—mated, courting or single—a safe place to ride out heats however they choose.

The rooms are free, vetted packs are on standby, and they offer food and toy packages on a sliding scale.

Kai recommends them all the time to the omegas she volunteers with.

The timing sucks, but I can’t do anything about Nymph right now. What I can do is throw off the last vestiges of my former life and start fresh in the arms of someone else. Plus, a few days of hot sex sounds like a good stress relief.

More excitement builds, as does the slow, simmering heat of an incoming spike.

I can’t just fall off the face of the earth, so I send another text to the group chat.

Me

Heat starting. Heading to Revelry. You’re all listed as emergency contacts.

Maverick

Good luck, be safe.

Kai

Seconded. Call when you get home.

Lacey

Ignore Mom and Dad. Just enjoy yourself. You deserve it.

Mellie

GET THAT DICK!

Even after I put the phone away, my muse is still tugging me forward, desperate to create regardless of my body’s threats. Peering at the time, I turn toward Diamond’s. I’ll shop before I head to the center. A few dozen orgasms and I can get back to doing what I love alpha-free.

Everything’s going to be okay.

Maybe if I say it enough, it’ll feel like the truth.