Page 7 of Knot As It Seems

Keeping me safe and out of the public’s eye until I was old enough to present officially was important to my parents. At least, when I asked why I couldn’t go to school with the other kids, that was their answer. When Winslow took over my care, I only became more secluded, and she made it clear the ‘why’ of it wasn’t my business

At first, I didn’t really understand why my sister needed my blood. She was a beta; she had access to every blood bank in the country and could even mail order stuff if she wanted. I was even more confused when I found her not ingesting it but injecting it straight into her veins with a full medical set up, like she needed it to live.

Every time she’d take a little more from me, and it made me feel sick, but by then she was controlling my blood and food intake, and I wasn’t strong enough to really fight her.

I remember the day she came home smelling likethem. She hadn’t fed me in a few days because she’d been gone, wards set to prevent me from leaving, so maybe I was on high alert when she came home or something, but I couldpick out each individual scent on her, and I hyper fixated on them and it became my whole identity.

There was one that reminded me of a cool breeze right before rain, bergamot and sage perfectly balanced and crips. Then there was one that smelled like the day our parents took us to the sea, a soft, fresh blend of amber and sandalwood. One of my personal favorites was whoever smelled like dark honey; thick, rich, and sweet. The orange eucalyptus scent gave me a bit of a head rush the first time I got a hit of it, while whoever smelled of white tea and honey felt like a garden party, just like my fifth birthday. I always thought that one in particular complimented my omega scent well. The last scent, but maybe the most memorable to me, was the alpha that wore his black teakwood scent like a sophisticated accessory.

I didn’t know who the scents belonged to, and she wouldn’t tell me at first, but it was clear they knew I was their scent match because my sister came home covered in bites and scratches and slept for 12 hours straight. Once she woke up, she told me exactly what my scent matches had done to her, and how pleased she was that her experiments were working. They had no idea she was a beta, she told me, no idea that the wild berry and wisteria scent she carried was a byproduct of stealing it from me.

Everything came into focus for me that day.

From that point on, I was only good for providing my sister with a fake scent, and nobody in the world knew I even existed outside of her. We’d spend whole afternoons poring over scent binders, her drilling me on the nuances of the alphas’ scents so she could fake her way a little better. Every one of their scent profiles I correctly matched forher felt like the deepest betrayal, but fighting her or lying about the scent notes never ended well.

If I was living anybody else’s life but mine, I’d have been dreaming about how their scents made me feel and how I responded to them, but all they wanted was my sister, so dreams were pointless.

My very soul seemed to crumple up the first time she let them knot her, even though her anatomy doesn’t really allow that. I had to hear in detail how torn up she was down there as I got my first sex ed lesson, sobbing silently while she made me care for her.

She didn’t love me, and the alphas would never be mine because they believed her lies so easily. I decided right then and there that they were bad men, and Winslow got very good at reinforcing these beliefs.

She began taking clothing from them, bringing their scents into the house to get me to perfume, because my body reacted to them whether I wanted it to or not. Biology has got to be the worst thing the world has ever created. So she’d make me scent them, by force, put me in her clothes, and then she’d leave me there on the edge of heat over and over again while she stole my scent and brought it back to them.

Even now I feel so hollow inside, like I’ll never really be happy or feel like anything is worth it, but it’s been fine-ish since I’ve been left alone. Knowing that Winslow finally took too much of me and it killed her was the final fuck you I always wanted to send her off with, and the house has been quiet and peaceful ever since. I figured at some point I’d somehow escape the wards she set when I became desperate enough for food, but I was okay withnot having a strong plan as long as I had a meager supply of blood boxes and canned goods.

Those alphas ruined everything once again.

If they would have just minded their own damn business, I wouldn’t be dredging up the past I’ve been trying so damn hard to suffocate, and I’d be sleeping in Winslow’s room on her real bed with real blankets and pillows, instead of this shithole she made for me.

I can only pretend it’s nice for so long.

At least the mice that live in the walls are friendly.

My eyes start to get heavy, and this time I know I’ll wake up, but I just don’t know how I feel about that right now. All I know with certainty, is I will not be going anywhere near the alphas that fucked me over for so long. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if they told me they knew the scent they craved was mine, but that they wanted my sister anyway. They were hers, and I don’t want anything to do with them.

Seven

None of this makes sense. It’s true that I never had a great relationship with Winslow, but as part of the pack, of course I was with her. Hard to resist somebody that smelled the way she did, even if she was a complete bitch to me. Oh, she’d smile and bat her eyes in front of the other guys, but I think she knew I saw through her façade and she was always trying to angle me out of the picture.

So now this development is quite interesting to me.

I had my own theories about why I was only drawn to Winslow at certain times, but the guys never really cared to listen because as long as they got their dicks wet, life was good. Maybe I’m not alpha enough for wanting something deeper, but I tend to not give a fuck about what society thinks of me.

My family always drilled into me the importance of matching with a natural omega, because purebreds deserve to have their line extended indefinitely, according to them. I didn’t give two shits about what my mate was made up of as long as things were good with them, andthings were never good with Winslow.

But that picture that Moon sent earlier? Of the clear as day omega, worn to skin and bones and needing urgent medical care? Can’t stop staring at it. Her eyes are flashing up at his camera, scolding him for daring to take her picture, and for some reason her attitude is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, even if I’m desperate to wrap her up and spoon feed her broth…or something.

The rest of my pack pulled out of whatever they were doing to get over to Winslow’s house, and I can already tell by the mood of all of them as we try to get in, that they have so many doubts about who this mystery girl is. I love my pack, but they’re damn big idiots most of the time. They all want to act like this isn’t the biggest news they’ve ever received, that it’s not a second chance for something we all desperately want but are ashamed to admit to, but not me.

Then there’s the issue of the new alpha, the one Moon claimed was feral; but the way this guy was looking down at the omega in the photo, even if it was zoomed in and a bit too dark to see properly, tells me that’s bullshit. If Winslow is responsible for turning him and he’s mated to the omega I suspect we’re all biologically inclined for, then he’s already pack.

He’s the one that opens the door to the house, because Moon can’t be bothered. The guy is frantic, eyes dilated and stress pheromones pouring off of him, charred cedar leaf and lavender gone bad, and the other guys push past him like he’s a cardboard cutout instead of the key to our problems.

A whine slips from his throat when all the guys bypasshim, but I grab his shoulder and try to center him, emitting my own alpha pheromones to keep him in check. I’m clearly more dominant than he is, so this doesn’t take much work.

“Help me. I don’t know where she went. She was just here, and then…I think I finally snapped.”

He’s darting his eyes around every which way, shaking, until eventually he just sinks down into a deep squat, rocking back and forth while pulling at his hair.