Page 67 of Knot Their Omega

She’s so into it, I doubt she notices Icarus’ presence.

What surprises me is how Icarus casually walks in, sets the tray of food on the bedside close to her where there are no sheets of paper, and reaches over to place the cup of coffee in her line of vision.

She initially doesn’t notice. It takes a full minute before her eyes lift and show just how focused she is.Blue eyes are stunning on her.They look almost smokey grey right now with how the lights are lowered in the room, but they outshine in their own element of beauty.

Just like the rest of her body.

I was being a douche insulting her. She’s very different from any Omega I’ve witnessed. She’s slim but curved, which gives me a strong chance to believe she works out to maintain her figure.It’s not simply thanks to genetics.Her legs are toned, something I observed, seeing as she was just wearing a t-shirt—and still is—while her biceps show a bit of muscle unflexed.

I insulted her odd hair combination, but the shades complement her flawless skin. She gives punk star girlfriend vibes, which would have fit nicely with the aesthetic she’s going with because it matches our band and the tour aesthetic rather perfectly. Despite the unintentional matching schemes, I can’t possibly let myself be seen with her.

Or any of my pack, for that matter, because we don’t want an Omega.

We’ve gone a few years without one. Why can’t we just keep doing our shit and focusing on our careers? I don’t have time to have an Omega. To fuck and start breeding and having a bunch of fucking babies.

It’s not like it’s not something I wish to experience.

The timing, however, is not now.

I thought my fellow pack mates would acknowledge and agree with that vision as they did years ago when we decided to pursue what makes us happy and pays our bills.

From the looks on my fellow pack mates’ faces, those envisioned goals are nothing but background noise with this Omega in view.

“Oh. Thank you!” Just hearing the surprised relief in her voice makes goosebumps crawl up my skin. It also sparks a hint of jealousy—an emotion that’s fucking foreign—because why the hell would I be jealous of not getting her attention? I don’t want to bring coffee to a slut stranger.

I don’t, but my Alpha instincts are drilling my fucking head with pounding fury.

“The food is still hot. I asked them to put it in a special aluminum container, just in case you need more time with your meeting,” Icarus reveals.

“You’re a saint,” she praises. “It won’t be long. Um… did you want me to brew you some coffee or anything? You didn’t just go out to get this food just for me, right?”

“You don’t need to do anything but eat and focus on work,” Icarus encourages. Even the way he talks to her is so fucking different. Like he’s talking to Velvet or something. Heck, he talks even nicer to this Omega than his own mother! “Yes, I did get this just for you,” he makes that very clear. “But if it makes you worry less, I had a hunch my pack would assemble due to therecent news, so I’m getting some food delivered. It should be here any minute.”

She sighs in relief, which is weird. Why would she be relieved we have food? In fact, why would she want to do anything for Icarus? He’s a nobody, just like the rest of us to her.

She’s like any other Omega. All they do is use and abuse people.

“That does give me relief. I don’t want them to be hungry. If there’s anything I can help with, tell me. This meeting won’t be long.”

“It can take as long as it needs to,” Icarus assures her. “We’re out here if you need anything. When you’re done, I can bring you back home until we figure out what the arrangements are going to be like.”

Arrangements?

I want to interrupt so badly, but I see the signal that Icarus gives with his hand behind his back.

The middle finger my way.

I have to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from saying shit. If this was any other instance, I’d interrupt whatever this is between these two, but out of all of us, Icarus has answers to the questions I’m listing out in my head.

And with these new law changes, I don’t have time to diddle daddle.

“I-I could always just get an Uber?” she offers and sounds hesitant. “I mean, I don’t want to be burdensome.”

“You’re not burdensome,” Icarus affirms. “And I’m not letting you take an Uber anywhere. Not after last night.”

What happened last night? Wait. Does this have to do with whomever he was fighting with on the phone?

“You may not like to rely on others, but try to rely on me for a bit, okay?”