Wilson refuses to look at the statement again. This morning over coffee, Lorenzo showed it to him. He read only the first paragraph before setting down his mug and disappearing into the shower. When he returned later, he whispered "that's good" with such fragility that Lorenzo and I exchanged glances and said nothing about the break in his voice.
The boardwalk coalition shifts tactics immediately. Voss' attorney files motions challenging the arbitration timeline while two merchant association members submit formal objections to our operating permit, financial pressure replacing character assassination.
Which is why Nicholas left early this morning to work on building a defense, pausing only to press his lips against Wilson's forehead as Wilson lay half-asleep in the guest room.
I pretended not to notice. Wilson’s ears stayed red for an hour.
In the midst of all this, my nest is getting bigger. I’ve been adding to it for days, pulling in pieces that carry the right scents. A shirt Nicholas left draped over the kitchen chair that smells like amber when I press my face into it. One of Lorenzo’s undershirts, the thin cotton ones he wears beneath his suits, saturated with rain. Wilson’s pillow from the guest room, carried to the nest while he was in the shower, the coffee-and-leather scent so rich in the fabric that my body responds to it before I’ve even finished tucking it into the pile.
My body is doing a lot of responding lately.
The spike a few weeks ago scrambled something in my cycle. Lorenzo noticed before I did but the sweetness has been building steadily instead of following its usual rhythm. My skin runs hotter than normal. My appetite swings between ravenous and nonexistent. I’ve been waking up with slick coating my thighs more mornings than not, my body preparing for something that isn’t due for another two weeks according to the calendar on my phone.
The calendar is lying. My body knows it. Lorenzo knows it. Wilson’s starting to figure it out too, based on the way his nostrils flare when I pass too close and the way his grip tightens on whatever he’s holding when my scent hits a certain concentration.
Hell, even Nicholas has figured it out but he’s polite enough not to say or do anything without me instigating first.
I try to ignore the slight discomfort but three hours into the evening, a spike finally rolls through me.
It starts as a wave of heat in the pit of my stomach, spreading outward in a pulse that makes the bottles I’m holding clatter against each other. My vision tunnels. My thighs press together behind the bar as slick gathers between them, sudden and warm and completely indifferent to the fact that I’m standing in front of forty customers with a bottle of vodka in each hand.
“Lorenzo.” My voice is thin as I bang bottles on the bar harder than I mean to causing the bartender at station two to look up. Lorenzo materializes beside me in seconds, his hand on my lower back, his scent cutting through the sweetness pouring off me. He studies my face, my posture, the way my thighs clench, and I feel his jaw tighten. “Office. Now.”
Wilson’s already on his feet before Lorenzo even speaks. He falls in step behind us as Lorenzo guides me through the crowd. Once the office door clicks shut, the thump of the sound system dulls to a muted pulse through the walls. I collapse onto the couch, folding against the armrest, knees drawn up, curling around the heat pulsing through my center. Slick seeps through my pants. The sweetness of my scent swells in the air, and I watch both of them inhale sharply.
“Nicholas is across town,” Lorenzo says as his hand finds my face, tilting my chin up. “How bad?”
“Bad.” My hips rock forward on their own. The emptiness inside me is a physical ache, a hollow pull demanding to befilled. “Zo, I need a knot. I can’t—the toy from last time won’t—I need—”
“I know.” Lorenzo steps away, crosses to the desk, and slides open the bottom drawer. He fishes out a silicone ring from beneath a stack of files, a thick, flesh-toned thing built to sit at the base of a cock and swell under pressure to mimic an Alpha’s knot.
I watch Wilson beside the door, hands at his sides, his scent sharpening with arousal he’s clearly struggling to contain. His pupils are blown, the front of his pants already tenting, one hand twitching as if he’s about to adjust himself.
Lorenzo crosses back toward us and holds up the ring between us. “This is a knot ring. Designed for Omegas and their non-Alpha partners.” Lorenzo’s other hand finds the back of Wilson’s neck. His eyes flutter shut. “Our Omega needs a knot and Nicholas can’t be here. You can give him what he needs with this.”
Wilson’s breathing shifts, his gaze flicking from the ring to me on the couch, then back to Lorenzo’s face. “I’ve never—”
“I know, gorgeous.” Lorenzo’s thumb presses at the base of Wilson’s skull. “Trust me. Trust your body.” His mouth brushes Wilson’s ear, and even through the haze pressing against my skull, I catch the words. “Our Omega needs you, gorgeous.”
Wilson’s fingers drift to his belt, quickly undressing before Lorenzo slides the ring onto Wilson’s cock. The silicone slides down until it sits thick and snug at the base. Wilson stares at it, an expression caught between disbelief and need. His cock is hard, flushed, the ring adding girth that makes my mouth water.
“Oliver.” Wilson’s voice is rough, edged with want. “Tell me what you need.”
“You.” My hands tremble as I tug my pants halfway down my thighs, fumbling with the button until Wilson’s fingers replacemine and strips the fabric away. “Fuck, Wilson, please— I need you inside me right now.”
Wilson kneels at the edge of the couch, lifts me effortlessly, settling me against the armrest. His body presses between my legs, the head of his cock brushing my entrance. I’m slick enough that the first inch slides in without resistance. My head tips back and a low sound tears out of me, echoing off the office walls as he slides deeper.
He pushes in slow, every inch deliberate, his jaw clenched with the effort of control. The ring at the base of his cock catches against my rim and my whole body locks up in anticipation. Wilson pauses, his breathing ragged, his eyes on my face.
“More.” My legs wrap around his waist and my heels dig into his lower back, pulling him forward. “Give me all of it.”
Wilson’s hips press forward and the ring pushes past my rim, swelling under the pressure as my body clenches around it. The stretch overwhelms me immediately, filling exactly what has been aching hollow inside my core. My back arches off the couch while my hands grab Wilson’s shoulders, nails biting into the cotton of his shirt. When the knot locks inside me, relief floods through my body and pulls a sob from my chest that vibrates through both of us.
It’s not an exact switch for a knot but it’s pretty damn close.
“Oh fuck.” Wilson’s voice breaks as his forehead drops against my collarbone. His body shakes and his hips twitch against mine while the ring swells to its full size inside me. “Oliver, I can feel you clenching around it, I can’t—fuck—“
My hand fists in his hair. “Wilson, move.”
