Knot Their Only Omega (First Chapter Heat Clinic)

Prologue

Violet

An omega who couldn’t breed was as good as broken. That’s what my parents said, that’s what the books said, that’s what my alpha, Logan said.

For two years, he’d used me like I was a tool he’d been promised would work if he just applied enough pressure.

Two years of cold hands and icier eyes, of being reminded that I was a transaction first and a person never.

I was not a wife. Not a mate. I was collateral for debts my parents couldn’t pay.

Logan only took me because I was supposed to fix things.

Because my body was meant to become someone else’s future.

But, even though we spent every one of my heats knotted, despite the drawer full of positive tests that meant nothing in the end, I’d yet to produce an heir.

And with every disappointment, Logan’s rotten stench seemed to grow.

And after months and months of herbal remedies suppressing my heat out of the fear of what was to come, there I was, curled up on a leather couch as fire raced through my veins.

The den was the only place I could hide. The only place that didn’t reek of garbage, BO, and mismatched alphas. Instead, it smelled like old library books, and the incense Logan graciously allowed me to burn.

The couch stuck to every inch of my body, not covered by the thin cotton of my dress. I whimpered and buried my face into the cushions. The herbs weren’t working anymore. Or maybe I wasn’t strong enough to keep taking them. Either way, the dam had broken.

I rolled the smoky-quartz pendant between my fingers again and again, the motion rhythmic, almost prayer-like. This rock was supposed to protect me, to shield me from evil and give me strength.

But if it worked, then why was I still here?

Why was I still trapped in this house, surrounded by people who hated me because I couldn’t do the one task I was meant to?

Maybe the pendant was like me. Pretty. Meaningful to people who believed hard enough. Useless when it mattered.

My fingers tightened around it until the sharp edge bit into my palm. Tears stung my eyes, but didn’t fall. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually cried. I think I’d used all my tears somewhere between the first test that lied to us and the fifth time Logan forced me to keep trying.

The heat surged, rolling through me like molten metal, crawling beneath my skin, pulsing in my bones. My body begged, and I hated it for doing so.

My back arched as a desperate cry split my lips, and that was when the door opened. In wafted the scent of rotten meat, and I barely suppressed a gag as my head lolled to the side.

All six-foot-seven-inches of Logan walked in, dressed head-to-toe in black velvet.

“Little Dove,” he growled. “Are you trying to force the entire house into rut?”

I whimpered and shook my head, unable to remember the sound of my own voice. The second I realized my words didn’t matter, I decided to stop wasting them. Silence was easier. Silence couldn’t be argued with. Silence couldn’t be punished for saying the wrong thing.

Logan licked his lips as he sealed the door to the den, locking us in together. My legs quivered in anticipation, betraying the nausea pooling in my stomach.

“Are you going to make an heir for me, Little Dove?” His voice was thick with force and tenderness.

I nodded but clutched my pendant tighter, willing the sharp edges to tear through my skin, for me to bleed and cover the brown leather.

If I bled enough, maybe the smell of iron would drown him out, the pain would be louder than the heat, and I could convince myself I was somewhere else. Someone else.

The chain bit into my fingers. My nails cut crescent moons into my palm. But I didn’t let go.

Because even if I couldn’t speak, even if I couldn’t run, I could still hold onto the last small piece of defiance he hadn’t managed to take.

So when he moved toward me and the air thickened with the weight of what was coming, I didn’t scream.

I just closed my eyes, and I imagined the pendant glowing in my fist, even though I knew it wasn’t.

Magic wasn’t real, and no matter how much I read about it and played witch, it never would be. Still, having something to dream about made it easier when Logan pulled my underwear down and shoved himself into me, not caring how much it hurt.

After all, it wasn’t like I could tell him no.