Page 20 of Knot Only For One Night

“Don’t start,” I grumble, but her glee is enough to make me chuckle.

Queen and Ace are scent matches. They met while he was riding one night. She was out barhopping, and he scented her. They've been together ever since.

She hopes I’ll meet mine. But that would mean packing up, and I’m not sure that's such a good idea.

Packing up means giving up my position as Prez, permanently. Could I really give all that up for love? Is love truly that strong?

Queen wraps her arms around my head and pulls me toward her so she can kiss my forehead. “Your future is in your control, regardless if it feels like it or not.”

I nod, letting her lecture me on the universe and knowing what will be, will. This mindset is what pulled her out of her depression when she found out she couldn’t have babies.

So when I came along, it was a push-and-pull with her for a while. She loved me but hated that she couldn't have one of her own. She grew to love me like her own, but it’s hard, especially as an omega, when the expectation—from yourself and from others—all your life can’t actually be fulfilled. I don’t hold it against her.

“What if I don’t meet them? My scent matches,” I whisper against her chest. Her welcoming honey scent calms me as her curly long hair brushes my cheek.

“What if you do?”

She's right. The chances may not be super high, but they aren't low either.

What will I do then?

“Don’t baby him, Queen.” Prez’s gruff voice laughs as Queen must have sent him a glare.

“Don't tell me what to do with my baby.” She kisses my head one last time and lets me go. Queen slides out of her seat, taking Ace’s hand as they take their daily walk around the Plaza that makes up Midnight Wolves’ base. Midnight Wolves Plaza makes up all the businesses that we run, including the Coal’s Diner, Wolves Garage, and the Dispensary.

My phone lights up and I snatch it, excitement overriding the melancholy for a minute.

A text from Esper.

We’ve moved from the app, somehow texting even more often. I’m trying to figure out how to ask her out properly, but every time I think about meeting her in person, I think of Asher. How I’m fucking him still, and I feel like I should probably tell Esper.

Nope, that’s not true. I definitely should.

But I don’t want to pop the bubble we’re in. She’s so damn easy to talk to. She lives in my head, and instead of it driving me insane like Asher does, I’ve made her a comfy corner with pillows and blankets and fresh French fries from Coal’s—her favorite—with homemade ranch and a charger for her phone so it never dies.

Asher lives in the next corner. His bright hazel eyes piercing into mine. His presence fills my chest with an unexplainable tightness. Like a balloon I don’t know to let bloom or pop. A headiness that makes me crazy. Each time we’re together, I can’t decide whether to kiss the fuck out of him or… well, no, I mostly actually want to kiss the fuck out of him. And I shouldn’t.

He's an alpha, for starters. But mostly, he’s an addiction. One I look for in every room, one I sense like a phantom limb.

I… want them both, as selfish as that sounds.

But I’m an omega, right? Who says I have to pick?

I do need consent though, from both parties. That bit never changes.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Jewels pops up behind the bar, her rainbow-colored curls bouncing with her. She is an omega, mated to two members, One Eye and DJ. She works in the Bar, sometimes as a bartender, sometimes as a waitress. She loves to watch the rowdiness, which her mates are often part of. She’s mixed-race; her parents are Black and white like Prez and Queen. She joined the MC when she found her two mates about two years ago. She was looking for a job with fair wages and a party, and she stumbled upon us.

My phone lands face down on the bartop. “No one.”

She shakes her head as she slides a glass of water to me. She begins her prep of the bar, wiping down the bar and filling up napkin dispensers.

“You’re not gonna share with your best friend?”

“You know, your mates would have a fit if they heard you calling anyone else your best friend,” I replied, trying to divert her attention.

Fat chance of that.

“Who’s the lucky lady?” She tosses the rag over her shoulder and leans her palms on the counter. “Man? Plural?”