~REVERIE~
I'm still catching my breath when I notice it.
His knot.
Theo's still close to me, our bodies pressed together in the cramped space of the supply closet that suddenly feels even smaller with the lingering heat of what we just did. His breathing is as ragged as mine—harsh pants that make his chest rise and fall against me, his heart hammering so hard I can feel it through his henley. The air smells like sex and cleaning products and our combined scents—vanilla-caramel-cedar-smoke all tangled together in this intoxicating mix until I can't tell where I end and he begins.
The lustful high is finally calming down—that desperate, all-consuming need that made me bold enough to suggest a supply closet, to let a stranger fuck me senseless, to throw caution to the wind and just take what I wanted. Reality is starting to creep back in around the edges like cold water seeping under a door,bringing with it the awareness of how thoroughly wrecked I am. How completely undone.
My legs are shaking—actually trembling like I just ran a marathon. My tights are destroyed beyond any hope of salvation. I'm pretty sure I've sweated off most of my makeup and the silver wig is probably askew. And I still have to go back to work and pretend nothing happened. Serve drinks with a smile. Act like I didn't just have the best sex of my life against a supply counter surrounded by cleaning products and cardboard boxes.
But first?—
I reach out, my hand moving almost automatically, and gently touch his knot. It's still swollen, still sensitive, and the moment my fingers make contact, Theo makes this sound—low and surprised, somewhere between a gasp and a groan.
His eyes snap to mine, wide with shock.
Did I do something wrong? Is this not okay? Kael never let me touch his knot. Said it was too sensitive, that I wouldn't do it right, that I should just leave it alone.
But I can see the tension in Theo's shoulders, the way his muscles are still coiled tight despite the orgasm. I've read enough to know that knotting can be uncomfortable without proper aftercare. That it's not just about the Omega's pleasure—Alphas need care too.
So I keep my touch gentle, soothing, massaging carefully around the base where I know it's most sensitive.
"No Omega's ever—" He stops, swallows hard. His voice is rough, scraped raw. "No Omega's ever cared about my knot before."
What? How is that possible? How do you have sex with an Alpha and not care about their comfort after?
I huff, indignation rising hot in my chest despite the post-orgasm haze. "Well, they should. Especially when you know how to fuck right."
The corner of his mouth twitches into something that might become a smile if he wasn't looking so stunned. "Does that mean your pack—that Jason dude—really couldn't fuck you right? And you really haven't been intimate with them for years?"
Oh. Right. I mentioned that earlier. In the heat of the moment when my brain was scrambled and my filter was nonexistent.
I continue massaging his knot, keeping my movements slow and careful. Maintaining eye contact feels important right now—like if I look away, he'll think I'm ashamed or lying.
"Our relationship was out of convenience," I explain, my voice quieter now. More serious. The playfulness draining out of me like water from a cracked vessel. "If anything. A marriage of convenience between Alphas and Omegas who needed each other for practical reasons. They needed an Omega to maintain their business licenses and avoid government scrutiny. I needed a place to live and people who wouldn't?—"
I stop. Can't finish that sentence. Because the truth is ugly and pathetic and I hate admitting it even to myself.
His eyes darken—not with arousal this time, but with something harder. Sharper. Anger, maybe. Or protectiveness. The kind of look that says if Kael and his pack were standing in this supply closet right now, Theo would probably demonstrate exactly what he learned in military combat training.
I should stop talking. Change the subject. Make a joke about the ruined tights or the fact that we're having this heavy conversation while half-dressed in a supply closet. But the words keep coming, spilling out like I've been holding them in for too long and the dam finally broke under pressure.
"As for Jasper—" The name tastes bitter on my tongue. "He only touched me once. When I was in Heat. And even that was more of a quickie to keep the pack dynamics balanced. Five minutes, maybe? Just enough to stop me from being a 'liability.'"
I can feel his knot starting to deflate under my fingers—slowly, gradually, the swelling going down as his body relaxes.
"Kael and his pack—Jasper, Ross, and Harold—it was about making ends meet. Allowing them to continue their business operations without the government regulations that apply to packs without an Omega. I was... useful. A checkbox on a form."
Theo's jaw clenches. I watch a muscle jump in his cheek, his hands curling into fists at his sides like he wants to hit something.
I shrug, moving my gaze from his intense stare down to his knot. It's almost fully deflated now, and I'm weirdly proud of that. That I helped. That I knew what to do even though no one ever taught me.
"When you're young and blind because you're finally getting the attention you've always wished for from a set of Alphas," I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper, "you ignore the red flags. Every single one of them. No matter if all the signs are there in neon lights screaming DANGER. No matter if your friends are concerned and your family thinks it's a bad idea and even strangers can see the toxicity from a mile away. You convince yourself that once you're locked in—once you're officially pack, once the bonds are there—it'll get better. That life will be good. That you'll be loved and cherished because you're helping them acquire everything they wish for and more."
I remember being that girl. Twenty years old, fresh out of a shitty apartment share, desperate for stability and affection. Convinced that Kael's calculated interest was actually love. That his pack's tolerance of my presence was acceptance. Thattheir willingness to let me join was proof of my worth instead of proof of my usefulness.
A laugh escapes me—small, shy, embarrassed by my own naivety that feels like a lifetime ago but was really only four years. "However, that's not what happened at all. Surprise, surprise. Turns out that when a relationship starts with ulterior motives and stays there, it doesn't magically transform into something beautiful just because you want it to badly enough."
