Page 6 of Knot A Chance

Wyatt looked at me sympathetically. He clearly wanted to say more, but one thing I appreciated about Wyatt was that he always knew when to shut up. A gift that neither of my sisters shared.

I sighed and spat out the truth anyway, “He doesn’t know we’re true mates. I mean, maybe he can feel it too, but I’ve never told him or asked him about it because I want him to have a choice. He should get to choose if he wants to spend his life with me, not just accept it as his fate because I say so,” I said, looking again at the love of my life hooked up to machines. My heart ached at the sight of his dark hair—usually styled perfectly with side-swept curls on his forehead—lying flat against his head. “Can you just give me a few minutes alone with him, please?”

Wyatt nodded and clapped my shoulder once more before stepping out and pulling the door shut behind him. I shifted on my feet, not knowing what to do with myself, until the instinctual need to touch Felix became overbearing. Nausea at the need to have his skin against mine tightened in my gut. I sat down in the chair in the corner and scooted it closer to him, grabbing his hand as soon as I could reach him.

The machines behind his bed beeped quietly and steadily in time with his heart rate. His left leg was elevated on a pillow and a quick glance beneath the sheet revealed a cast from his ankle to his knee. I laid the blanket back over his body, tucking the edges around his waist.

“What the hell did you do, handsome?” I asked before dropping my forehead to his stomach and letting the overwhelming fear and desperation pour out of me as I sobbed against him.

Chapter Two

Felix

March: Three Months Ago

“You’re not going to make me take a drug test or something?” I asked, looking at the tall, toned, blonde woman behind the bar with apprehension.

“Do I need to make you take a drug test?” she asked as she folded her arms across her chest. She wore a black, low-cut tank top, and the motion made her breasts pop in my peripheral vision.

“No, of course not,” I stammered. “But every boss I’ve had since getting out of rehab always makes me prove that I’m not using. Regularly.”

She scoffed. “Either you’ve been working for betas with a terrible sense of smell, or for people who were trying to make you feel inferior. If you ever show up here smelling like heroin or anything else, I’ll know, and you’ll be done. No peeing in cups for me. No second chances either. Got it?”

“Yes, okay,” I said, nodding rapidly.

I’d been in recovery for two and a half years, and I’d spent the majority of that time bouncing around from city to city, bartending and waiting tables. I’d only had two goals for most of that time: stay far away from my ex, Ryder, to keep our bond as weak as possible, and stay sober. The therapists in rehab said going back to the town where you’d developed your addiction wasn’t something most people could handle in the early years of recovery. Especially when it was a small town with easy access to the drugs you were constantly craving.

I’d heeded their advice and waited until I’d truly felt ready to handle the cravings to come home.

My older sister, Clara, had kept me informed of happenings in our hometown. Ryder had been bouncing in and out of Crescent River ever since I’d left him. And while I’d longed to come home to the Lakes Region of the Northeast, I’d opted to return to the next town over. Mirror Lake was different enough that I wouldn’t be faced with places where I used to get high, and similar enough that it still felt like I was back home. I’d only been in town for a week, but I was confident I was ready to settle down here for a while.

When I’d noticed the “We’re Hiring” sign in the window at The White Fang an hour ago, I’d stopped in to apply, and now the owner of the bar and restaurant, Ally Winchester, was offering me the job.

I was pretty sure Ally was an alpha, and her citrus scent was stronger than most other alphas I’d encountered. Her no-bullshit approach to the rapid-fire interview she’d just conducted gave me the impression that working for her would be easy. I’d certainly never have to guess where I stood with her since indirectness didn’t seem to be a word she knew.

The rarity of stumbling across a female alpha made me wonder if I was misreading her designation at first, but it was impossible to ignore the way she commanded authority, and my omega body responded instinctually to her.

Taking orders from her as an employee certainly wouldn’t be a problem. In fact, it would be harder to ignore the instinct to do as she said.

Maybe I should keep working for stupid betas.

I’d never minded being an omega because I’d never really bought into the idea that we were the weaker designation, only here to please alphas. I was five foot nine and had put on a lot of muscle since I’d started working out in rehab. Hitting the gym regularly had become a standard part of maintaining my mental health and sobriety. Even if I wasn’t as tall and naturally strong as alphas were, I certainly didn’t see myself as weak.

Besides, healthy alpha and omega relationships made it abundantly clear to me that the omega had far more power in a relationship than the alpha. Sure, there was a natural give-and-take, with both parties having varying degrees of power, but most people understood that a healthy relationship wasn’t just an alpha overpowering an omega.

Unfortunately, I’d fallen prey to that type of relationship once already and I wouldn’t let it happen again.

Any alpha who was worthy of my time would in no way domineer me, they would seek to protect me and love me fiercely, making me feel precious. And I’d make sure they received the same love from me. I sure as hell wouldn’t be settling for anything less than that again.

Ryder had never wanted to protect me, he had wanted to possess me, and despite the genuine affection that had existed between us at one time, our mating bond had been a terrible, heroin-induced mistake.

A few hours after offering me the job, Ally had successfully shown me the ropes at The White Fang. Bartending and waiting tables weren’t all that different from one restaurant to the next, and I wasn’t worried about this place being too crowded given what I knew about the area.

In late spring, the snow still lingered on the ground and the lake produced a steady, cool breeze that kept tourists away. The kitchen closed at eight o’clock and the bar closed at ten o’clock until tourism picked up in early July. Even then, I wouldn’t mind working late hours. The bars in the city were usually open until midnight year-round, so I was used to late nights and the good tips that came with them.

Ally acknowledged everyone who walked into the bar by name, most of them clearly regulars who lived in town.

I finished serving a couple of women at a table in the back corner when the bar door opened. A man who appeared to be in his late twenties walked into the room and his presence knocked the air right out of my lungs.