Knot Her Shot (MVP: Most Valuable Pack Book 2)

Chapter 7

chapter

seven

My ride pulls upto the front of Forever Matched with five minutes to spare.

I smooth my hands over my lap, grateful that the silky pink fabric of my dress hasn’t wrinkled. My hair is just as smooth, the black curls straightened and re-curled into perfect loose spirals, partially clipped off my face. Along with my usual makeup and the bright smile I’ve perfected, I hope I look like a girl eager to set up her future.

Because I am, I tell myself.

Who even knows whether I’m lying anymore?

Meg’s voice echoes in my ear, slightly distorted by my broken, old AirPods. “Are you there?! What does it look like?!”

My stomach is a jumble of jittery excitement and nauseous dread. When I peer out at the imposing, white office building looming over me, fear edges out the thrill.

“It’s, uh, big.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Megera Ash.”

“Remi Skyes.”

I smile despite myself, gathering my cardigan and purse. “I’ll call you after.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she chimes.

“Like going home with a group of alphas I don’t know?” I return, teasing her. “I would never.”

The call clicks off as my Uber pulls away. I blow out a deep breath, staring up at the impressive facade in front of me.

What on earth am I doing?

One moment of weakness, and now I’m here?! A girl should never make decisions while she’s sitting on the floor of her closet, wedged between a plate of cookies and her vibrator collection.

The omega urge to run and hide kicks and thrashes inside of me. Years of people-pleasing, and a pathological fear of disappointing anyone are the only things keeping my feet rooted to the sidewalk.

I made an appointment. I can’t just not show up…

Thankfully, the second I step inside, it’s clear this place was made for omegas. The lobby is a small, round alcove. Flowering plants and overstuffed chairs fill the dome-like space, giving the room a cozy feel despite the bright sunlight filtering through its skylights.

The second I enter, ten different scents hit me all at once. A prickle shivers over my skin while I adjust, my mind racing to catch up to the adrenaline blasting through my veins.

Oh, right. No neutralizers in here. They want alphas and omegas to scent each other.

I’m grateful the woman at the front desk is a scentless beta. She takes my name and smiles, typing a few words before she offers me a wide selection of beverages—from champagne to kombucha. There’s barely enough time for me to settle into a seat with my freshly brewed tea before one of the doors behind the desk opens.

A female alpha in a mint-green pantsuit steps through it, already beaming right at me. “Miss Skyes?”

I’ve always liked female alphas. Male alphas tend to be openly aggressive, but their female counterparts often channel their inherent dominance wisely. Usually, they’re extremely organized and diligent in their care of others. Their no-nonsense authority was a common influence in the group homes I grew up in.

She watches me stand and carefully collect my bag and teacup, waiting patiently while I gain my balance before offering her hand.

“I’m Celine,” she says, grinning. “I’ll be the one working with you today.”

The faint scent of eucalyptus rises off her chest, tinged with the distinct edge of nope that tells me she’s already bonded. I notice a claiming mark along the side of her neck, nearly hidden behind her smooth blonde bob.

Her smile grows as she reaches up to gesture at it. “You’ll see that I’m a big believer in our system. It’s how my pack met our omega. That was ten years and three kids ago, and I’m still obsessed with her.” She laughs lightly, “At least, she’d say so. I’d prefer to say I’m madly in love with her.”

Obsessed sounds like a word Meg would jokingly use to describe her guys. I grin at the thought, pleasantly surprised not to feel a twinge of envy at the thought of happily bonded packs. In its place, there’s a hum of anticipation.

Maybe—maybe this will work.

Oh God.

What if this works?!

Celine’s grin turns knowing as she senses my budding eagerness. “Right this way, Miss Sykes. Or do you prefer Remi?”

She isn’t holding a folder or cheating off a tablet—she actually knows my name. As someone who’s been shuffled through every branch of government childcare and more free clinics than I can count, I’m already impressed.

“Remi,” I demur, nervously fiddling with my purse strap.

“Remi.” She smiles again, waving over her shoulder. “Follow me.”

We walk down a standard white hallway and find ourselves in… a suite? It definitely doesn’t feel like an exam room or a place for corporate meetings. Instead, it’s a comfortable, luxurious space, reminiscent of a hotel room.

There’s a neatly made bed off to the left, surrounded by a canopy and flanked by two small storage tables. On the right, a seating area with two armchairs and a loveseat takes up more than half of the room. Celine leads me to that side and lets me settle myself into the leather loveseat.

From the coffee table, she produces a tablet and an electronic pencil, deftly tapping at the screen while she sits back with all the confidence of an alpha in her element. After a moment, she sets everything in her lap and smiles over at me.

“All right, Remi, I’m sure you’re curious and little nervous about how things are going to go, so let’s go over it. First, I’m going to review the intake questions you answered.”

She gives an amused look. “Some of these questions may seem pretty invasive, and you’re free not to answer. But remember, we’re trying to create a complete picture for your future pack, so there’s really no need to be embarrassed. I can guarantee they’ll want to know everything about you!”

I can’t help but smile at that thought. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she repeats, nodding firmly. “Once we’re done chatting, we’ll collect your scent sample. It’s a simple swab.”

She flips the tablet back open, already poising her pencil over the pad. “First up—favored scents.”

She calmly raises her eyes to mine, waiting for me to realize she’s asking me for my favorite alpha scents. I’m lucky my darker complexion mostly hides the blood rushing to my cheeks, otherwise I’d be bright red.

“I…” Years of people-pleasing kick in, and the urge to be amenable is overwhelming. “Anything is fine.”

Celine frowns, the expression unwittingly fearsome. “Remi, that just won’t do. We are here to find your perfect matches. Possibly, if we’re lucky, scent-sensitive mates. If we want any chance of that, you have to be completely honest with me, okay?”

Little does this nice lady know, I can’t even be completely honest with myself.

I swallow past a dry throat, nodding. She smiles again. “Good. Trust me, I’ve heard it all before. Nothing you say will shock or offend me.”

Forcing myself to relax, I blow out a tense breath and sink back into the loveseat. “I like food scents the best,” I admit, hiding behind the rim of my teacup. “Sweet stuff mostly. And, um, coffee.”

Her brisk, businesslike nod reassures me I’m not a freak. “Excellent. And any alpha scents that make you uncomfortable?”

Too many.

Growing up in group homes, being shuffled from foster home to foster home… there are far too many alpha scents I could never feel safe around ever again. A whine rises to my gullet as I repress a wave of unpleasant memories.

Celine waits, professional as ever, until I finally peep, “Nothing industrial. Leather, metal, oil, smoke.”

She nods, reading the same response on the questionnaire in front of her. “And do you prefer a pack of all alphas? Or alphas and betas? And how many packmates?”

My eyes fall to my crossed knees. “Anything is f?—”

Celine clears her throat, disapproving. “Remi.”

I wince at being caught in another fib. The truth is, after years vying for scraps of affection in foster homes, I wouldn’t want to share my alphas’ attention with anyone else. If I find a pack that somehow actually wants me… I want to be the center of the pack.

“I-I think I’d prefer all alphas.” I feel another flush move unseen over my face as I think about my heat needs; namely, the number of vibrating alpha substitutes it takes to survive on my own. “I’d need at least two—if they’re… athletic.”

Celine’s pink mouth twitches. “Or perhaps three or four would be better?” she suggests, all tact.

I cringe with my whole body. “Probably. Three sounds good. No more than four…”

I expect some form of judgment. At least a raised eyebrow. I’m basically admitting I need three grown alphas to keep me satisfied…

But Celine smiles again, pleased with my honesty. “We’ll omit any packs that include industrial scents and limit our search to all-alpha packs of three to four.”

“Excellent,” she goes on. “Now, heat history and preferences. How many heats have you had, Remi?”

“Um,” I squeak, counting. “Three a year since I was sixteen. So, more than twenty?”

The alpha levels me with a look of deep concern. “All on your own?”

I don’t know why her sympathy makes me want to cry, but I have to swallow down a thick wash of sadness. “Yes. I use medication to dull the pain, and suppressants to keep me lucid and safe at home.”

She seems to sense I’m not finished and waits for me to go on. I swallow hard, forcing my voice not to shake. “A few years ago, one of the doctors at the free clinic recommended I do an unsupressed cycle, to help ensure the suppressants’ continued success in the future. I ended up going to a heat clinic and?—”

Remembered sensations sweep through my body. Shooting pains from my elbows—chafed from hours of presenting. The shivery claustrophobia of my small, sterile cage. Rough hands on my hips, bruising. Squelching soreness in my core.

“—it wasn’t for me,” I finish weakly. “I’ve taken care of myself ever since.”

Grief darkens Celine’s eyes. “Not for much longer, okay? I promise we’ll find you just what you need.”

She seems so sure. I try to absorb that certainty and let it soothe me. “Okay. What’s next?”

“Next, we’ll collect your scent sample and put it into our system, along with all of this personal information. If there’s a match, it will pop right up, and we’ll call them in!”

My heart seizes in my chest. “Call them… as in, right now? Today?”

“Yes, right now. Today.” She smiles, the expression knowing. “My guess? They’ll rush right over.”