Knot Happening Again (Claimverse Book 2)

Another drunk alpha staggers toward me, his gaze fixed on my chest. The stench of cheap bourbon and stale cigarettes makes my nose wrinkle. His pupils dilate as he catches my scent, even through the pheromone inhibitors pumping through the vents.

‘How much?’ His words slur together.

I turn away, letting my hair fall like a curtain between us. ‘More than you can afford.’

The rejection rolls off my tongue with practiced ease. Five years of working at Scent Bar has taught me which clients are worth my time. This one isn’t.

My eyes scan the dimly lit room, cataloging potential marks. Three politicians huddle in the VIP corner, their expensive suits and carefully maintained appearances screaming ‘discretion required.’ A cluster of mafia alphas dominate the center tables, their scents aggressive even through the dampeners.

A beta at the bar keeps glancing my way, his shoulders tense with false bravado. He’ll spend the whole night trying to prove he belongs here, dropping cash he can’t afford to spend.

‘Rough crowd tonight.’ Natalie slides up beside me, her red hair catching the low light. ‘Nothing but cheapskates and creeps.’

‘When isn’t it?’ I adjust my high collar, making sure the half-formed mark on the right side of my neck stays hidden. One look at that mark, and they know another alpha has already discarded me like yesterday’s trash.

‘You’re extra cynical today.’ Natalie bumps my shoulder. ‘Heat coming up?’

The question hits like a punch to the gut. My fingers curl around my glass, knuckles whitening. The incomplete mark makes everything worse, my body crying out for someone who abandoned me years ago. ‘You know I don’t go into heat.’

She cocks her head in confusion. ‘I thought your doctor said you can’t take those suppressants anymore. It’s been, what, seven years?’NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

‘About that,’ I mumble into my drink. What’s another month?

If there’s one benefit to working in this place, it’s that at least I don’t have to worry about some random alpha throwing me into heat even through the drugs.

The air is thick with pheromone inhibitors, a necessary evil in a place like this. Can’t have any accidental bondings, after all.

That would be bad for business.

Natalie’s expression quickly turns serious. ‘This is serious, Ophelia. You need to go into heat at least once every quarter or you could get really sick.’

I avoid her gaze, focusing instead on a particularly desperate-looking alpha across the room. The thought of being with another alpha during that vulnerable time, when all I can think about is Leon Whitaker even now, all these years later… it’s unbearable.

‘I’m fine, Nat,’ I insist, plastering on a fake smile. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

But Natalie, bless her naive heart, isn’t letting it go. She rummages in her pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. ‘I heard about something that might help,’ she says, smoothing out the paper and handing it to me.

I look down at the glossy brochure, my eyebrows shooting up as I read the title. ‘Temporary Bonds? What the hell is this?’

Natalie leans in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘It’s this new agency that matches unmated omegas with compatible alphas or packs for short-term arrangements. You know, to help with heats and stuff.’

I scoff, sliding the brochure back at her. ‘And how exactly is that different from what we do here?’

‘No, no, it’s not like that,’ she says, holding up her hand. ‘It’s all above board, very professional. My cousin tried it. You know, the one with the difficult heats who hasn’t found a pack yet? She says it’s great. No complaints at all.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Please. I have my pick of alphas right here if I want them. And they pay me for the privilege.’

As if on cue, a well-dressed alpha approaches us, his eyes locked on me. He’s handsome in that generic, alpha way—strong jaw, broad shoulders, an air of confidence bordering on arrogance.

‘Can I buy you ladies a drink?’ he asks, his voice a low rumble that I’m sure is meant to be enticing.

I paste on my most alluring smile, ignoring the way my stomach turns. ‘Why, that’s very kind of you,’ I purr, leaning in slightly.

Natalie smirks, catching my eye. ‘I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,’ she says, slipping away with a wink.

I turn my full attention to the alpha, letting my eyes roam over him appreciatively. ‘Or we could skip the drinks and head upstairs,’ I suggest, my voice husky with false desire.

His eyes light up, and I have to suppress a shudder of revulsion. As I lead him toward the stairs, I can’t help but think that I hate him. I hate every alpha in this room. But I don’t hate any alpha more than I hate Leon Whitaker.

And yet I hate myself even more.

For ever loving him.

For ever hoping he’d come back.

The alpha’s hand on my lower back brings me back to the present. I plaster on another smile, pushing thoughts of my ex to the back of my mind.

It’s time to work.

As we climb the stairs, I can’t help but wonder how I ended up here. It seems like yesterday I was just a naive omega, dreaming of true love and happily ever afters. Now look at me. Selling myself to the highest bidder every night, hating every moment of it.

We reach the top of the stairs, and I lead him down the hallway to one of the private rooms. The decor is tasteful but impersonal, all neutral tones and soft lighting designed to flatter and seduce. I’ve been in this room countless times, with countless alphas. Each time, I leave a little piece of myself behind.

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ I say, gesturing to the plush bed. The alpha grins, already loosening his tie. I turn away, ostensibly to pour us both a drink, but really to steel myself for what’s to come.

As I face the mini-bar, my eyes land on my reflection in the mirror. For a moment, I hardly recognize myself. All I see now is a jaded woman, her blue eyes dulled by disappointment and heartbreak.

Then again, I’m not that eighteen-year-old idiot who actually thought alphas were capable of love. Seven long years have been more than enough to chip that naiveté away, piece by piece. My hair is longer now, still the same raven shade, cascading over pale shoulders. But even though the face it frames is still smooth and youthful on the surface, the joy in my expression is long gone. Hell, I’m probably never going to age because I can’t even remember the last time I cracked a smile.

I shake off the melancholy thoughts. I have a job to do.

Turning back to the alpha, I put on my best seductive smile. ‘Now,’ I purr, sauntering toward him. ‘Where were we?’

The next hour passes in a blur of fake moans and practiced touches. I go through the motions, my body responding on autopilot while my mind drifts far away.

I think about Natalie’s cousin, wonder if she really found relief through that Temporary Bonds place. I think about my own impending heat the moment I follow my doctor’s orders and finally come off these suppressants, the pain and loneliness that await me.

Sometimes I think about Leon.

Sometimes I imagine biting his dick off.

Depends on my mood, really.

When it’s over, the alpha leaves with a satisfied smile and a generous tip. I wait until the door closes behind him before I let my facade crumble. I rush to the en-suite bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before I retch, my body rejecting the encounter as thoroughly as my mind.

As I rinse my mouth out, I catch sight of myself in the mirror again. This time, I can’t look away. I stare at my reflection, at the woman I’ve become, and I feel a surge of self-loathing so strong it nearly knocks me off my feet.

Is this really all I’m worth?

A quick fuck for alphas who can’t be bothered to find their true mates?

God, it’s so easy for them. Just fuck your way through the sea of willing omegas who will open their legs for a chance at finding happily ever after and stop when you find the one who smells like heaven.

Or don’t.

As rare as omegas are, I’ve learned firsthand working at this place that doesn’t stop alphas from risking everything to sample all the variety the world has to offer.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the traitorous thoughts. This is my life now. I made my choices, and I have to live with them.

But as I make my way back downstairs, Natalie’s words echo in my mind. Maybe there’s another way. Maybe I don’t have to suffer through my heats alone.

Or with clients who make my skin crawl.

The alphas at this Temporary Bonds place certainly can’t be any more repulsive than the ones I go upstairs with every night.

I find Natalie at the bar, chatting with one of the regulars. She spots me and excuses herself, hurrying over with concern written all over her face.

‘Effy? Are you okay? You look pale.’

I force a smile. ‘I’m fine, Nat. Just… tired, I guess.’

She doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the Temporary Bonds brochure again. ‘Here,’ she says, pressing it into my hand. ‘Just… think about it, okay? You don’t have to decide anything now.’

I nod, too exhausted to argue. I slip the brochure into my purse, telling myself I’ll throw it away later.

But even as I think it, I know I won’t.

The rest of the night passes in a haze of drinks and false smiles. By the time last call rolls around, I’m more than ready to go home. I say goodbye to Natalie, promising to text her when I get home safe.

The cool night air is a relief after the stuffy atmosphere of the bar. I walk briskly, my heels clicking against the pavement, eager to put as much distance between myself and the Scent Bar as possible.

At home, I go through my nightly routine on autopilot. Shower, moisturize, brush teeth. But as I’m about to climb into bed, my eyes land on my purse. Before I can talk myself out of it, I dig out the Temporary Bonds brochure.

I sit on the edge of my bed, turning the glossy paper over in my hands. It’s everything Natalie said it was and more.

It’s a nice, modern looking building in a trendy area downtown where some tech geniuses have figured out an algorithm to match unmated omegas with packs for temporary arrangements.

No strings attached.

But all the packs are carefully vetted for safety, and supposedly, the algorithm and the forms you fill out ensure a high rate of compatibility. Omegas always have complete discretion when it comes to accepting a pack or not. And the first meeting is always held at the Temporary Bonds office, so there’s no pressure or safety concerns.

The promises it makes seem too good to be true.

Safe, professional, discreet.

A way to get through my heats without the pain and loneliness I’ve grown accustomed to.

But can I really trust it?

Can I trust anyone after what Leon did to me, even on a temporary basis?

I think about my upcoming heat, about the agony that awaits me if I face it alone. And the potential risks if I keep taking these suppressants.

With a sigh, I reach for my phone. And then I change my mind.

There’s no way this is legit. If life has taught me one thing, it’s that if something seems too good to be true, it always is.

Especially when it comes to alphas.