Page 19 of Knot Only For One Night

“Well, what you want to do is always your choice. If you want to relish in being an omega and stay home or work or do both. It’s up to you. You’ll know what’s right.” His words are comforting, but I can’t help the niggling of doubt in my chest.

I needed a career. One I loved. In case I wasn’t good at being an omega.

“How’s that crumble bar?” I ask.

“You want a bite?” He holds it up, and I nod. A semicircle is missing where he already bit into the dessert. He’s so sweet, and so hot, and my body makes a decision before my brain can question it. Leaning in, I bite over his previous bite and blush. Trying not to think about how his lips were previously there.

This alpha seems like the perfect fit. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, his scent is amazing, and he says all the right things. He has goals, ambition. Neven is wonderful.

Too wonderful.

I hope I’ll be able to let him go after my heat.

Or maybe…he’ll want to stay?

CHAPTER 7

REED

The Bar is empty at ten in the morning. The actual bar sits at the back, the main area open for dancing with the sides filled with plenty of tables and chairs with booths against the walls, worn black seating that blends into the shadows in the corners. Wooden floors stretch to dark walls and aesthetic lighting. Dark enough to be brave, light enough to face the consequences of that bravery.

Though as the years have gone by, the Bar has become quite mundane. Maybe because I grew up in it. It doesn’t sparkle the way it once did.

My gut turns as I sit with Prez and Queen. Prez is old. Older than he should be running an MC.

Someone needs to take over, give the man a rest at long last.

That “someone” should be me. But I can feel it in my bones—I'm not ready. He can feel it too. It’s why he’s waiting. Holding onto the reins instead of retiring with Queen like he wants to.

Worst thing is, I have no clue what will make me ready. I don’t even know if the MC is ready.

Would they even follow an omega?

The guys like me well enough. But it's not about like. It's about trust, respect.

Omegas don’t demand those things.

Damn. I just had to be a fucking omega.

“Red.” Queen’s smooth voice takes me out of the self-pity party as she moves over bar stools to sit right next to me. I turn to face her, willing the despair to evaporate from my mood and my scent.

Queen is strict but lovely. A better mom than anyone could ask for. She never took any shit, but she also loved with all her heart. Queen is an omega too, but understands how different it is for me. How it makes my life harder. I love her, both Dad and Queen, as parents, and I'm honestly way better off. Even if I’m not running the MC like I want to, I still will have a better life than the one I would have had if Ace and Queen never took me in.

“Your scent is telling.”

“I’ve been slacking on my scent blockers.”

My scent is thick in the air, no matter how much I try to calm down. The sense of impending doom looms over me. The lack of being ready catching up to like a freight train.

Queen swivels her chair so her full attention is on me. “Is there… a reason?” She hates that I take the blockers. Hates what it could be doing to my body. Honestly, I’m tired of taking them. I’m tired of trying to hide the obvious and unchangeable fact of my existence.

I’m an omega. I’m a male omega. Who’s meant to lead a group of rough-and-tumble bikers used to taking orders from an alpha.

Blockers helped us sometimes forget that fact. Helped me, helped them. But, God, I’m just so damn tired of not being enough.

“No, I just… would rather not.” I lean against my elbows on the bar, eyes trailing over the bottles lined up behind it. “They've been making me sick.”

A sly smile arcs her lips. “It could be a sign.”