Page 28 of Knot Their Omega
I never expected it to be harder than we envisioned because when we looked at so many of our peers, they found their Omegas as if their lives were pitched to be the latest Netflix love story. One connection and boom, they’re happy and bonded to a woman who glows in their presence. Who looks so divinely delighted and content with this group of Alphas who only care for her.
As a unit, they look complete.Whole.Then, everything seems to work out in their favor for several reasons.
The government supports any initiative they wish to launch as a whole pack, whether that be a business or a charitable organization. Loans are approved without a glimpse of what they need funds for, and housing for ‘complete’ packs is available in the nicest plots of land.
The moment babies are born, their whole education is funded, and daycare and nanny services are available without a lengthy waitlist.
Essentially, having an Omega in your pack is a blessing in our society that encourages our unity. Without one, you’re left at the end of the stick, hustling and fighting like so many other Alphas to make a name for yourself to attract the leftover Omegas who are being extra picky.
Now with this new movement, shit is about to hit the fan when it comes to finding an Omega who isn’t a gold digger.
“As for Kenji, he’s inside with Kai, doing our Alpha duties of attending these stupid forced get-togethers in hopes of findingan Omega that thrives off our maddening energy,” I casually summarize like it’s no big deal.
“It’s not over yet?” Nate seethes. “We have shit to do. I need to rehearse with Kenji.” I know that’s not the reason why he wants Kenji around.He needs help with his rut, and Kenji is the only one he’ll let touch his peenie weenie to get him off.
Personally, I don’t care if I don’t fit the “aesthetic” that gets Nate off. I do enough as his manager, best friend, and packmate. It’s where I draw the line because there are only so many hats I can wear before things get murky.
We’ve been friends for so long because of my boundaries and limitations. You can’t put two control freaks with anger problems together and think they’ll last long without butting heads. The only difference between Nate and me is he enjoys showing off his lack of control in the anger department.
While you’ll never know my buttons are pushed until it’s far too late to earn forgiveness.
“Kenji is walking around, and Kai is sitting at our table, entertaining a bold Omega who thinks they can get a word out of him that doesn’t revolve around ‘hello, goodbye, and Mhmm,’” I summarize.
“And where the fuck are you?”
“Where do you think?” He’s in such an ass mood tonight, I can’t help but toss his energy back to him again and again. The tour has to be stressing him out, especially with every show officially selling out.
The resell tickets were through the roof the last time I checked.
The preorders for merch sold out, and even the waitlist had to be cut off when we surpassed 50,000. At this point, I think a pop-up would be necessary to hype up the fans, but if Nate can’t take a chill pill for a few hours, we’re going to have a problem.
“Enjoying a smoke while doing jack shit,” Nate mutters. I’m sure he can sense my smirk with my added silence because he adds, “Smiling like a stupid idiot.”
“If you need to be fucked, just say that,” I conclude. “Not my fault your rut blockers are only making you into an antsy bastard who paces the tour bus like you’re walking the fucking Great Wall of China, which would take you about seventeen months, give or take a rest day.”
Tidbit facts like this always make my day. Like who sits on their ass wondering how long it’ll take to walk the entirety of the Great Wall of China?
Me.
When I’m leaning against the wall of one too many alleyways.
Trying to ignore how much I want to be laid up with an Omega.
Not alone, filling my lungs with smoke and additional blockers that will keep my Alpha senses from going berserk because of my lack of sexual relief.
“Fuck you,” Nate whines. “And I’m not on the fucking bus.”
“For once,” I comment. “Did you leave it clean?”
“I didn’t do fucking shit,” he huffs. “Mallory can clean the mess I made with the groupies. That’s what we pay her for.”
No. We pay Mallory to make sure the tour bus doesn’t reek of Omega after Nate has a sex marathon that doesn’t even fulfill his needs.
Yes, she’s one of the best cleaners specializing in ridding Omegas scents from literally anything, but she’s a smart businesswoman who only tolerates Nate because she’s doing me a favor. She’s also alive thanks to Knox, which is why aiding us when we’re on tour is an earned privilege I don’t take lightly.
Neither should Nate.
“I pay her,” I remind with a dominant tone. “Devalue her enough and you’ll realize what it’s like dealing with cleaners who get paid to leak your shit to the public.”