Hard Knot (Forgotten Omegas: Initiation #1)

Prologue Heated Turbulence

~ E LIZABETH~

“Don’t you dare go into Heat on this plane, Abercrombie!”

Holmes hisses, his voice low but sharp enough to pierce the claustrophobic tension in the tiny airplane bathroom. His breath is hot against my neck, while my hands are still pressed on top of his eyes, as if to stop him from seeing my body, when he’s honestly seen me butt naked after these last chaotic weeks of utter madness.

All of this is an atrocity of absolute chaos.

“Then stop touching me!” I snap back, though my voice trembles more than I’d like.

Stop touching me? As if Holmes would ever listen to a damn order I’d give him.

He’s far too cocky and ruthless for that shit.

Like listening to anyone’s opinion or request.

Holmes doesn’t even pretend to heed my warning.

Instead, his hips press harder against mine, his groin grinding against my soaked panties with deliberate precision. The scent-blocking material isn’t doing shit at this point. I’ve soaked through them so thoroughly that they’re ineffective in being a savior in this unexpected situation.

Hell, it’s contributing to my obvious demise here.

I bite back a moan, and I have to move my hands from his face so my nails can dig into the cheap plastic wall behind me, instead of into his flesh. Anything to try to anchor myself and not use him as a form of stability.

His lips quirk into a smug smirk, that infuriating one he always wears when he knows he’s in control. And God, I hate him for it. Hate how he always gets under my skin, how his scent— a maddening mix of cedar and spice —is making my head spin.

Hate that, no matter how much I despise him, my body doesn’t seem to care.

“I’m not the one dripping slick, my Rebellious Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mockery and a dark edge that sends a shiver down my spine. “Your body seems to like my touch just fine.”

I glare at him, wishing I could wipe that smug look off his face.

“You’re an ass,” I hiss, but the insult loses its bite when my breath hitches, his thigh pressing against me in a way that makes my knees buckle.

“And you’re a brat,” he shoots back, his lips curling into something too predatory to be a smile. “But that doesn’t seem to stop you from grinding against me like you want more.”

God, I do hate him.

Hate how he’s standing so close…

How his heat and scent are making my Omega instincts scream at me to submit.

Despise how every breath I take is filled with him, drowning me in something I can’t escape.

My body is betraying me, inching closer to the edge of Heat with every second we’re trapped in this suffocatingly small space. It spikes my anxiety to peak levels, bringing about memories I’ve spent years trying to forget.

“This isn’t happening,” I mutter, mostly to myself, trying to will the fire coursing through me to die down. “This can’t be happening.”

“Agreed,” he says, but his hands betray him, gripping my hips with bruising force. His lips hover over mine, his breath mingling with mine in the scant inches between us. “So why aren’t you stopping me?”

“Why aren’t you stopping yourself?” I fire back, my voice sharper than I feel.

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even try.

Instead, he closes the distance, his mouth crashing into mine with a ferocity that knocks the air from my lungs. His kiss is angry, almost punishing, like he hates me as much as I hate him.

And maybe he does.

But that doesn’t stop me from kissing him back, my fingers tangling in his hair as if I can’t bear to let go.

“You drive me insane, Abercrombie,” he growls against my lips, his teeth scraping against my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. His hands slide lower, gripping my ass and pulling me flush against him.

I can feel the hard length of him pressing against me, and it’s enough to make me gasp, my head falling back against the wall.

“Funny,” I manage, my voice breathless. “I feel the same way.”

We hate each other.

Absolutely despise one another.

And yet, here we are, 37,000 feet above Atlanta, making out in a cramped airplane bathroom like we can’t get enough.

Like we haven’t been the perfect set of cats and dogs, scratching and biting at one another’s throats since the day I walked into his office and saw who the leader of the Tainted Trinity was.

As though he’s lost track of the fact that I’m a Forgotten Omega and he’s one of the untouchable Alphas who sees me as nothing but a complication in this equation that should have ended after one semester.

“You’re going to regret this,” I mutter as his lips trail down my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Probably,” he says, his voice low and rough, his hands sliding under the hem of my shirt to grip bare skin. “But right now, I don’t give a damn.”

His words send a fresh wave of heat through me, and I hate myself for the way my body responds, arching into him, craving more. I can feel the slick pooling between my thighs, my scent growing stronger and sweeter, and it’s driving him insane. His pheromones spike in response, filling the tiny space with a heady mix of need and dominance.

“Stop it,” I whisper, though my fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer even as I say the words. “We can’t?—”

“We already are,” he cuts me off, his lips capturing mine again, stealing whatever protest I was about to make.

His hands grip my hips, pulling me harder against him, and I can feel the barely restrained strength in his touch. He’s fighting it as much as I am, fighting the instinct to take, to claim.

The worst part is that I want him to lose.

I want to lose.

A sharp knock on the door jolts us both out of the haze, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Is everything alright in there?” a woman’s voice calls, her tone more suspicious than concerned.

I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle the gasp that escapes me, my wide eyes locking with Holmes’s. His lips are still swollen from our kiss, his pupils blown wide, and for a moment, neither of us moves.

This isn’t how I thought my initiation would end—trapped in a tiny bathroom with an Alpha I hate, dripping slick and trying not to completely unravel while his two pack mates are sitting in the front seats of first class.

On a fucking plane at that.

Holmes smirks, leaning close enough for his lips to brush my ear.

“We’re not done, Abercrombie. I’m gonna make sure this is your perfect graduation gift from Hard Knot Academy.”

Despite everything we’ve been through, I’ve learned one thing about Holmes.

He always keeps to his word.