Page 38 of Knot So Social

“Sure. I’ll be here.” Her chest pulses with a silent scoff.

I’m so fucking cued in to every twitch, every sound she makes. And I want to be the cause of her indrawn breaths. Want to run my fingers over her skin to see her body tremble and listen to her talk late into the night just to hear her voice.

My heart double beats, sealing my fate.

She lifts her gaze, ocean depth eyes boring into mine. “Are you okay?” she asks.

“No.” Me and my fucking mouth. Merda. Her Jasmine scent’s so thick I taste it with every breath. I’m just about drunk on it. I grab the table to steady myself as I guzzle the rest of my drink.

She cocks her head, eyes narrowing.

I clear my throat. Is there any way to salvage this? “Um, are you aware that you’re . . . scenting?”

Fear flashes through her eyes and her arms twitch. She drops her chin, her quick inhale loud in my ears. “What? That’s impossible.”

The heady floral-citrus aroma says otherwise and she knows it.

That beautiful fragrance sours as she growls. “Shit! I thought I put a stop to that.”

Willow whips around and marches for the back door with her deliberate, swaying pace.

As if I needed that emphasis on her ass. God help me.

She pauses at the back sliding door. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Curt. She’s afraid. The realization slops through my stomach, leaving me winded.

“I can help,” I blurt out.

Her spine goes rigid.

Fuck! “I didn’t mean . . . merda. Just, if you need to breathe in an alpha, or a hug. I’ve heard it helps. Sì?”

Willow looks at me over her shoulder, her straight blonde hair partially concealing her face like a waterfall. “That’s sweet, but no need. I’ll knock this problem on the head right away.”

Problem? She’s calling the most beautiful pheromone invitation in the world a problem. Cuts like a knife.

The omega blows out her lips as if she doesn’t like her own scent. “I like your accent, by the way.” The glass door slams closed, and she disappears deeper into the house.

She likes my fucking accent? And here I am silently cursing my struggle with English. By the Madonna, I’ve never been happier to be Italian!

I stand there like an imbecile for five whole minutes before I gather my thoughts. Well, so what? I made a fool of myself the first time, but she still asked me to come back. It’s not the end of the universe.

I shove my hands in my pockets and turn away, but as I leave the cover of the patio, a strangled sob soars through an open window within the house.

My joy falters. Why’s an omega so heartbroken about going into heat?

Chapter twelve

Willow

Of all the shitty things that could happen! The stench covers me from head to toe, reeking of omega desire. The thick tones clog my throat, threatening to consume my entire body if I don’t get a handle on this situation. No wonder the alpha kept staring.

An omega scent like this means something worse than interest; my body’s showing a dangerous physiological obsession it has no business meddling with—an approaching heat.

I was practically acting like a needy whore in front of him.

“But you are a whore, baby. You love getting heat sick and taking our cocks until you drop. It’s okay to admit it; that’s your only talent, after all.”