Knot Without You: An Omegaverse Romance

Epilogue Three

WEEKS LATER

Matty knocks on my door, letting me know I’m up within fifteen minutes, and I go back to finishing off the energy drink before sinking into the routine of breathing, trying to lock away their anticipation.

I never took into account having a pack as something I’d need to deal with before a fight. Their enthusiasm nearly outweighs mine and they’re not nervous or anxious. If anything, our bond is full of excitement.

None of them freak out when I cut them out of our connection and I only do it so I can focus, stay locked in the moment because I know I’m fucking ready. I don’t want to be one of those cocky fighters who thinks they’ve already won before stepping in the cage. I mean, it’s good to feel confident but in my mind it’s a sign of weakness if you can’t recognise every fighter has the same drive to win as you do.

Splashing water over my face, I do a final rundown in my head before I leave the dressing room with my water bottle in my hand. Just cause I’m sponsored by Throne Agency and The Fallen MC, I still prefer to keep everything simple. I don’t need a trainer to hold my water or wipe my face.

Bouncing on my feet as they clean off the mat after the last fight I lock out the noise of the announcer, and the scream of the crowd when my opponent and I are announced. Blocking out the energy of the crowd is near impossible considering the size of the event but at the end of the day, all that matters is what happens when I step into the ring because I’ve already won.

Cody Black is already doing laps of the cage, winding the crowd up and prancing around like a fucking pony. He’s on a winning streak. He is also one ugly motherfucker; his nose broke a few too many times and I’m planning on breaking his nose as well as his winning streak tonight.

We’re matched well—similar weight and height but completely opposite in almost everything else including fight styles. His career started years ago when he was on the wrestling team at school before one of those fancy scouts picked him up and he did a tour of training camps until he crashed out of the Olympic trials in spectacular fashion. I think it did him good though—failing that is—because now he’s become a formidable fighter chasing what he wants.

Blowing out a final exhale, checking my nails and tugging up my new fight shorts I drop a couple of squats, stretching my quads as the rules are read. We tap gloves, and the buzzer sounds.

He comes at me before I’ve taken a step, and I wait, letting him come closer, letting him drive the first round. When he lunges for my legs, I tuck jump out of the way, following through with a combo of elbow and shin strikes. The crowd goes wild in no time at all—helps that I connected hard enough to send him to his ass, but he jumps and races back in.

The first round passes, the second blurs fast too, but the rhythm of the fight, the speed we match and clash builds up my energy rather than drains it. And it’s probably lucky I’ve been training hard on building up my core because Cody’s clearly been watching video or some shit. He comes at me hard, focusing on my side that was injured in my last fight.

It kind of pisses me off.

I should have fucking known she wouldn’t stay away. Tristan appears out of the crowd, standing at my corner with some smartass words of advice on her lips. But fuck, I love her for it.

I don’t know who let her dress in nothing but a matching pair of my fight shorts, my name emblazoned over her ass, a cut off Fallen T-shirt hanging off her shoulder. She doesn’t stop as she struts past, but I track where she’s going, and why.

The buzzer sounds and poor Cody doesn’t stand a fucking chance now that I know my Omega is waiting for me in the change room. I attack him before he even blinks. The jab, cross, uppercut, low kick combination bounces him off the cage and straight into my reach again. Racing around behind him, I let him shake the stars out of his head before I pull a slip, rear uppercut and clock him in the chin, making him see more than fucking stars. He stumbles but refuses to drop. Spinning back to face him, I strike his inside leg with the ball of my foot, and he grunts in pain and tries to right himself but leaves his side open—which I take full advantage of. Taking him out with a Judo front foot sweep, I follow him down to the mat with a front choke hold, my thighs holding him down, while I twist his arm backward. I count it down in my head, and don’t make it to six before he taps out.

The crowd screams, but my pack is loudest. I fucking swear.

I’m grinning like a fucking lunatic as I shake his hand. And it should be about winning, but it’s not. I’m bouncing to get to her.

Not even the tunnel of people waiting to congratulate or talk to me slows me down as I race down to the change rooms. I could follow the scent of her over continents, her bubble-gum scent is everywhere, and when I push open the door she’s there waiting.

Exactly like last time too.

“You won?” She cocks an eyebrow up at me. The smug look on her face lets me know she already knows I did.

“Who said you could wear those?” I growl, fisting my shorts she’s wearing.

The smirk on her lips falls away, as her eyes do the talking. And Tristan gets a flash of sass in them. “I didn’t realise I needed permission. You’re mine, right?”

I nod my head agreeing, swooping down to pick her up and carry her over to the nearest wall. Her legs wrap around my waist, her fingers trailing over my chest.

“You know I am,” I growl against her lips. “But I nearly broke fucking Cody’s neck, I was in that much of a hurry.”

“What’s the rush?” Tristan cranes up, her scent blowing in my face, making me dizzy with need.

“Yeah, not sure… might be because I need these lips on mine.” I slam my lips to hers, licking my way in her mouth. But she’s not fighting me one bit, she’s as wound up as I am and she arches up against me.

“God, Mav, you were amazing,” she says, pulling away and breaking our kiss. “You know I’m so into you fighting, right? So proud of you.”

I nod my head, smiling like I’ve won the fucking lotto, because I have.

“Think King will lose his shit if I blow on your stomach again?” I ask after kissing her some more. Her lips on mine are as necessary as air in my lungs.

Tristan sucks my lower lip into her mouth, her tongue flicking over it while her hands dig under the waistband of my shorts, past my compression boxers. I sigh in relief as soon as her hand grips my cock.

“I definitely think we should find out for ourselves if he will lose his shit,” she agrees, running her hand up and down my length.

My thighs are fucking shaking after fighting, and as much as I want to hold her up, I have to let her legs down. She drops down further, right onto her knees, scratching my thighs as she rips my shorts down. My cock springs free and she pounces forward.

Her lips wrap around my length, and I can’t fucking breathe. Tristan can suck cock so good. She can do everything fucking good but she knows exactly how I like my head jobs—hard and fast. She hollows her cheeks and opens her throat, sucking me down before her little claws dig into the tops of my thighs, her sign I’m meant to be moving. I want to, but first I’m fucking immobile frozen on the spot watching her, because there’s not a prettier sight.

She pulls back, holding my crown like a lollipop in a loose fist before tonguing my slit.

“Fucking hell, woman,” I whimper. It was meant to come out like a growl but I’m absolutely at her mercy, a right fucking sap as she ruins me with her mouth, and the look in her eyes.

Opening her mouth, she waits for me to take control of the situation again, because she’s like that. In everything she does. And this time I do move. I wrap her blonde hair in my fist, making sure I cushion her head from the wall before I start moving in and out of her mouth. I push past what is respectful, my knot pressed against her nose before I hold her still, just pumping my hips, but the smallest movement is incredible, and when she adds the press of her throat, my orgasm cramps my back so hard, I groan and have to pull out.

She takes another big breath before we move at the same time, and then it’s a beautiful race to my climax. I fuck her face as I look in her eyes, promising her the world over and over. Her hands cup my balls, massaging my knot until she’s moaning her own pleasure at my taste.

“Open up, Tristan,” I grunt, giving her the heads up I’m about to fucking erupt, but she knows. She’s leaning in and taking more of me, bobbing up and down and swallowing already.

Both hands lock around her face reverently as I empty myself. It feels like forever until the tremors stop rocking my body, but eventually my legs give out and I drop to my knees. But I was already on my way down to kiss this woman, remind her it is my name embroidered on the shorts covering her ass and as soon as we get home, I’ll be fucking it too. No doubt, with Steel fucking mine.