Knot Their Cup of Tea (Knotty Omegas #2)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Destiny

D estiny stared out of the airplane window as they began their descent into Avondale. Covered in a blanket of white, the town looked like it belonged inside a snow globe. It was the kind of town you’d find in those Christmas movies where a big city businesswoman falls in love with a guy in flannel.

Destiny had always thought those movies were corny. It’d seemed to her the businesswoman was doing just fine in the big city. The thought of settling down in a quaint little town with a rugged-but-sensitive carpenter hiding a heart of gold beneath a tough exterior used to make Destiny’s skin crawl. She’d much preferred traveling the world, seeing new places, trying new foods and activities.

But after nearly a decade, all the places and foods and people had begun to blur together. Every party was the same, every hotel a reminder that she was far from home. Though she’d been lucky when, after only a few years of auditioning, competing, and gigging, she became pop music royalty at barely sixteen, she hadn’t been old enough to fully understand what she was signing up for. Her success had changed her family’s lives, but seven years in the spotlight was beginning to take its toll.

Right now, she was looking forward to getting home and staying put for a while. The tour had gone so well that they’d added another leg, turning her six-month world tour into nearly a year of nonstop engagements. She hadn’t seen her friends in ages. (Had it been nine months already since Pack Rhodes met her in Paris?) On the other hand, she saw more of her family than she might’ve liked, with her dads taking turns joining the tour so that at least one of them was always around.

That was one drawback of your mother also being your manager. Another was that when she asked you to do one more gig, it was hard to say no, which was why Destiny was landing on a private airstrip in Eastern Europe a week before Christmas. Dana Duvalle had been ecstatic to receive a last-minute request for Destiny to give a private performance to the princess of Avondale as a birthday gift from her parents. Apparently, her highness Princess Natalya was a huge fan, and her parents were willing to pay a small fortune for a visit from their daughter’s favorite popstar. Destiny’s mother would never say no to that kind of money and publicity. She was adept at keeping Destiny in the spotlight.

Despite her impatience to be home, Destiny tried to look on the bright side. The princess was getting a scaled-back acoustic concert, something Destiny hadn’t done in far too long. After months of light shows and wardrobe changes and intense choreography, it would be a relief to just sing and play her guitar, for it to just be her and her music.

It would only add a few days to the trip, and her mom had promised not to schedule another gig until spring, so Destiny had agreed. Besides, being here meant she wasn’t forced to help her parents prepare for their elaborate holiday parties with their unpredictable mixture of famous friends and random family members who would inevitably say or do something hilariously inappropriate. As a treasured only child and the source of their fortune, Destiny was always the centerpiece of these parties, even when she’d rather be out of the spotlight for a change. Helping with the tedious preparations only added insult to injury.

Okay, she was being a little unfair. Her parents absolutely adored her, which was something many people couldn’t say. And with her work schedule, she didn’t spend as much time with them as they wanted, so acquiescing to spend the holidays with them wasn’t a big ask. Though she’d sometimes rather spend it alone or having some chill time with a few friends, it wasn’t a huge sacrifice, all things considered.

Destiny’s parents didn’t seem at all sick of the fast life. They worked tirelessly to see that her career continued to flourish. Their lives practically revolved around her. She was their pride and joy, and they made sure she knew it. It’s why she didn’t mind the demands of stardom.

Well, she tried not to mind.

Sometimes she caught herself daydreaming about having her own pack. She imagined impossible scenarios where she lived a quiet life, with kids of her own who got to be normal and not have their every misstep plastered all over social media. When she mated, maybe her parents would understand that she had other people to spend her time with and wouldn’t expect her to be around as much.

Destiny’s parents had never properly gotten the hang of being empty nesters, given that they’d always overseen her career. She didn’t have the heart to tell them she needed more space, when most of the time she was performing halfway across the world somewhere. They’d been miffed when she’d first moved out, not seeing the point in it since she’d bought them a huge home with what they thought was plenty of room for her to have privacy, but they’d eventually accepted her choice. Unfortunately, the holidays still meant staying at their place for days of parties and “quality time”, which sounded even less appealing after the long tour.

Aside from her bodyguard and assistant, Destiny had spared the rest of her team this final concert, sending them home to rest and prepare to enjoy the holidays with their own families. She’d tried to send Damon home to be with his pack, insisting she could arrange with the Avondalian monarchy to provide security, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Her big alpha bodyguard took her safety far too seriously, meticulously selecting his own replacements for vacations or during his omega’s heats. Destiny wanted to tell him it was silly not to be home with his pack when the chances were incredibly slim of something happening to her in this nothing town while a guest of the monarchy, but she knew he wouldn’t listen.

Her assistant, an infectious ball of energy named Sasha, had also refused to go home. She’d been offended when Destiny suggested she could handle the performance alone, insisting on working until the popstar herself stopped. Destiny was touched by the gesture, but not surprised. Sasha was a great assistant, and she prided herself on anticipating Destiny’s needs before she even voiced them. Her dedication in this case was not entirely due to her incredible work ethic, however. Sasha’s interest in the gig had risen in direct correlation to her research into the Avondalian royal family. Destiny had seen it in the bubbly beta’s eyes when she’d briefed her on the logistics.

“Princess Natalya is the youngest child in the royal family. She turns sixteen two days after Christmas,” Sasha had explained. “She has an older sister, who lives in Senegal with her mates. And an older brother, Prince Alexander Stepanov, who lives in the castle as well, and is heir to the throne. There are two other alphas in his pack: his chief advisor, Greyson Valentine, and head of security Hunter Li.”

Sasha’s fawn brown skin grew rose-tinted as she talked, giving away the excitement she’d been trying to hide. Destiny could practically see the wheels turning in the other woman’s head. Where Destiny hated a cheesy romance movie, her assistant ate them up, and it showed.

“The prince and his pack are single, then?” Destiny asked dryly, putting Sasha out of her misery.

“Yes!” Sasha squealed, bouncing in her seat. “They’re mid-twenties, rich, sexy as sin, and unattached. If they need a beta to bring some balance to the pack, please consider this my two weeks’ notice.”

Destiny rolled her eyes. “It’s so hard to find good help these days. I guess I’d better start looking for your replacement. They couldn’t find a better beta than you in a million years.”

Sasha grinned proudly. “Flattery will get you nowhere, except right to my heart! You’re stuck with me until you hang up your guitar, my dear. Besides, they’re probably not interested in a beta anyway. They’re probably looking for a nice, gorgeous, queenly omega to settle down with.”

Sasha gave Destiny a sideways glance, which Destiny pointedly ignored. There were entire online forums dedicated to speculating on who she’d bond with and when. The internet matchmakers had been flabbergasted when she didn’t join Pack Rhodes—even more than they’d been when she’d refused Prince Ammar’s pack a few years earlier. The media had dubbed her an ice princess, posting endless speculation about who she might have her cold heart set on.

What the public didn’t know was that Prince Ammar had only liked her popstar persona. She’d tried to get to know him better during their brief courtship, but it didn’t take her long to see that he didn’t want her. He’d wanted a trophy mate, a perfect omega celebrity who would adjust quickly to royal life because she already knew how to handle the limelight. Her interactions with the prince were always surface level and, consequently, Destiny had found herself no more attracted to him than she’d been to any other alpha—which was not much. She’d done him a favor by breaking things off before he realized she wasn’t the least bit interested in anything physical. Most alphas’ egos couldn’t handle that kind of rejection, especially since biology dictated she should find them irresistible.

And, of course, Pack Rhodes was no better for her than Prince Ammar. They’d found their true love in a woman who’d become Destiny’s best friend. When she saw how the Rhodes Pack looked at Serenity, Destiny had resigned herself to being single forever. There was no way she’d find love that real. And she wouldn’t settle for anything fake. Too much of her life had been a pretty facade. If she ever mated, it would be with men who saw and loved the woman she was when the curtains closed.

When the internet sleuths found out about this trip, they’d be thinking the same thing Sasha was obviously thinking right now. And they would find out. Destiny’s mother would most likely release a statement to the press before Destiny even reached the Avondalian castle.

“I’m sure Pack Stepanov has a line of omega hopefuls a mile long.” Destiny shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t like a beta too. Don’t give up your royal fantasies just yet.”

Though Destiny had no interest in the Avondalian prince and his pack, she’d done her own internet sleuthing, just to prepare herself. She was glad she’d taken the time because she’d nearly dropped her phone when the search results loaded. Pack Stepanov was hot . Like, Hollywood hot. She’d met a lot of good-looking alphas over her career, but these guys still made her do a double take.

Unsurprisingly, they were also well-known alphaholes. There were lots of stories circulating online about the playboy prince’s penchant for partying and philandering, meaning his packmates most likely joined him or at least enabled his behavior. Many people didn’t think he was fit to rule, calling him arrogant, irresponsible, and rude. And those were the nicer comments.

Pack Stepanov was everything Destiny hated about being a celebrity wrapped up in a ridiculously hot package. Luckily, she had plenty of experience with hot assholes. Unlike many omegas, she’d spent plenty of time around unmated alphas over her career and, outside of her heats, they had little effect on her. The temporary packs she contracted with for her heats were always thrilled to serve her, but she never had a problem saying goodbye afterward and seldom used the same pack twice.

Sometimes, she wondered if there was something wrong with her. Perhaps she’d been introduced to the ways of the world too young or perhaps she was just broken. She didn’t react to alpha scents like other omegas did, and her sex drive was virtually nonexistent outside of her heats. It felt like she needed something more to really let herself go and find that thread of desire. And deep connections were few and far between in Hollywood. Maybe for her, such connections didn’t exist.

As Sasha chattered on about their itinerary, Destiny snorted in disgust at the memory of the pictures online of the prince’s drunken escapades. He was exactly the type of alpha she’d met a thousand times in the entertainment business—the type she’d been fending off for years. She was only in Avondale for a day, and she planned to spend it carefully avoiding the spoiled, privileged prince and his pack.

What was that saying about best laid plans?

They landed in Avondale in the wee hours of the morning and were met by a royal assistant even bubblier than Sasha. The two betas chatted merrily throughout the drive from the airport and the walk to their accommodations in the castle. The beautiful building was quiet at the early hour, and they met few people aside from security guards. Her entourage were given lovely rooms next to each other, which Damon checked carefully before having Destiny’s luggage brought in. Mina, the royal assistant, apologized that the family was asleep, but assured Destiny they were looking forward to meeting her over tea the next afternoon.

“The queen thought you might like to sleep in after your journey, but all you have to do is ring the bell when you’re ready for breakfast,” Mina explained, showing Destiny an antique looking chain near the bed. “Of course, if you wake up and want to explore the castle, I’d be happy to give you a tour. Just be camera ready if you leave your room. The press should arrive in the morning—all vetted and approved by your team, of course. If you need anything at all, you have my cell number or you can ring the bell.”

“I’ll have everything ready for you when you wake up. I can’t wait to meet the royal family!” Sasha hugged Destiny before heading off with Mina, undoubtedly prepared to go over every detail of the day’s itinerary.

Destiny was relieved when the door closed behind the betas, and she was finally alone. She had a nice, long shower in a bathroom full of vintage luxury, before settling into the ornate bed. She was tired, but not exactly sleepy, so she was surprised when she jerked awake less than an hour later, pulled from sleep by a rattling sound. She sat up in bed, looking for the source.

The sound came again, and Destiny realized it was the doorknob, which someone was trying to turn. She’d locked it, of course, but her uninvited guest wasn’t deterred. They only jiggled the knob harder.

Destiny crossed to the door, taser in hand. When she reached it, she could hear someone muttering angrily. It was a male voice, and not one she recognized. Finger on the stun gun’s trigger, she opened the door a crack.

And came face-to-face with the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

Prince Alexander Stepanov was much more attractive than the pictures she’d found online, which was completely unfair because those pictures had been absurdly hot. But they didn’t capture the intensity of his crystalline blue eyes, or the way his chin-length blond hair fell over them in an artfully tousled way. With his long hair and chiseled jaw, he was a quintessential pretty boy, but the scruff of stubble on his cheeks and the way he took up space gave him a bad boy edge. He filled the doorframe like some kind of Slavic god, towering over Destiny with his broad shoulders and the muscular chest she could glimpse through his half-buttoned shirt.

“Oh, hello,” he said brightly, smiling a lopsided smile that completely disarmed her. “Have the boys gotten me an early Christmas gift? My goodness. It’s my lucky night. They must’ve spent a fortune on you.”

Before Destiny could fully process his words, he’d stumbled past her into the room. She caught a waft of an appealing scent—nutmeg and cedar and sage—before an undertone she recognized all too well soured it. Liquor. Lots of liquor.

“You’re obviously drunk and lost, Prince Alexander,” Destiny said, once her brain caught up to the situation. “I can ring the bell and have someone come and help you find your room.”

The prince turned to her, his crooked smile unchanged. “Sweetheart, I’ve lived here my entire life and I’ve been much drunker than this. I know exactly where I am.” He paused and looked around, his grin finally fading. “But this doesn’t look like my room at all. What have you done to it?”

Destiny sighed, irritation rising. “Look, I’m very tired and you’re very drunk, so if you could just wander on down the hall–”

“You are very attractive, and I would love to see the rest of you,” Prince Alexander interrupted. His eyes traveled the length of Destiny’s body, making her acutely aware how thin her t-shirt and pajama shorts were. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. Slowly, the prince returned his slightly unfocused gaze to her face. “But you seem kind of bitchy, if I’m being honest. If you’re going to talk this much, I think I’d like a refund.”

Destiny might’ve tased him if several things hadn’t happened at that moment. First, Damon appeared in the doorway, assessed the situation quickly, and started toward the prince, likely to bodily escort him from the room. He was thwarted, however, by another alpha—who Destiny quickly registered as the also absurdly attractive Hunter Li, the prince’s head of security—launching himself in front of Prince Alexander with impressive speed. Three alphas, feeling threatened, in a confined space. Bad combination. Destiny braced herself for bloodshed.

Then Prince Alexander vomited all over the antique Persian rug.

It took another half an hour for Hunter to get someone in to remove the soiled rug, talk security with Damon, mumble an apology to Destiny, and drag the drunken prince back to his own room. By the time everyone was gone and the room was quiet, the sky was glowing with the first hints of sunrise. Destiny would get just a few hours of sleep before having to be “on” for the royal family. If she managed to sleep at all, which she felt far too irritated to do. This day was off to a truly terrible start.

Destiny climbed back into the huge bed certain of one thing: Prince Alexander was worse than the online critics claimed. He was exactly the kind of spoiled, privileged prick she’d expected him to be. She couldn’t wait to finish this stupid gig, get the hell out of Avondale, and never see Prince Alexander Stepanov again.