Knotted By Her Fated Mates (Knotted By Cupid #6)

Chapter 1

NAOMI

Ididn't celebrate my birthday anymore. Not since my mother died when I was eight years old, leaving me with nothing but a cramped apartment in Brooklyn, a savings account I'd been squirreling away since I was sixteen, and the bone-deep certainty that I would never end up like her.

Weak. Dependent. Owned.

February fourteenth. Valentine's Day. The day I turned thirty.

While the rest of the city exchanged roses and chocolate with overpriced declarations of love, I was sitting in a contractor's office in Queens, negotiating prices for renovating the building I'd just leased for my learning center.

"These numbers are too high," I said, sliding the estimate back across the desk. "I can get cork flooring for half this price at wholesale."

Danny, a fiftyish Beta male, raised an eyebrow. "You want me to use wholesale materials?"

"I want you to be reasonable. This is a nonprofit. Every dollar you overcharge is a dollar that doesn't go to helping kids."

He studied me for a long moment, then picked up his pen and started crossing out numbers. "Fine. But I'm not cutting corners on safety. The electrical work stays at this price."

"Deal."

We spent another hour hammering out the details. Timeline, permits, inspections. By the time I left, I had a signed contract and a headache that threatened to split my skull.

My phone’s text tone rang as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

Kira, my favorite Beta

Happy birthday, bitch. You better not be working.

Just finished with Danny. Got him down 15%.

Of course you did. Now get your ass home. We're going out.

I'm tired.

I don't care. You're not spending your birthday alone. Be home by 6 or I'm dragging you out in your pajamas.

I knew better than to argue. When Kira decided something, she was immovable. It was one of the things I loved about her, even when it was deeply inconvenient.

I made it home by 5:30.

Our apartment was small. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen that barely fit two people.

But it was ours. Kira had been living with me for three years now, ever since the night I'd found her in an alley with a split lip and a black eye, courtesy of an ex-boyfriend who'd thought "Beta" meant "punching bag.

" She'd moved in that same night. Never left.

Now she was standing in the kitchen wearing a short black dress and heels, her dark hair curled, makeup perfect. Beautiful as ever and thriving in the right state of mind she was in now. Self esteem had never been higher within her.

"Jesus," I said. "Where are we going? The Met Gala?"

"Better." She grinned. "Club Obsidian."

I froze. "No."

"Yes."

"Kira, that's a—"

"A BDSM club, I know. A non-human BDSM club specifically.

And it's amazing." She grabbed my shoulders.

"Look, I know you have issues with Alphas.

I get it. But this isn't about Alphas. This is about you taking your power back.

It's your birthday. You deserve one night where you feel good. Where you feel powerful."

"I feel powerful every day—"

"Bullshit. You feel in control every day.

You control your schedule, your money, your future, because you're terrified of anyone else controlling you.

" Her expression softened. "I'm not saying you need an Alpha.

I'm saying you need to remember what it feels like to choose pleasure for yourself. On your terms."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to list all the reasons this was a terrible idea. But deep down, she was right. I'd spent years building walls. Building a future where I'd never need anyone, never depend on anyone, never be vulnerable. And I was exhausted.

"Fine," I said. "One night. But I'm not doing anything I'm not comfortable with."

"Obviously. That's literally how consent works." Kira was already pulling me toward my bedroom. "Now go shower. You smell like contractor and desperation."

"I do not smell like desperation."

"You smell like someone who hasn't gotten laid in two years."

"It hasn't been two years."

"Eighteen months. I keep track." She shoved me toward the bathroom. "Shower. Now. And shave your legs."

"I'm not shaving!"

"SHAVE YOUR LEGS!”

An hour later, I was wearing a black dress I'd forgotten I owned, heels that made my legs look longer than they were, and enough makeup that I barely recognized myself.

"You look hot," Kira announced.

"I look like I'm trying too hard."

"You look like a woman who's trying to get laid." She grabbed her clutch. "Now let's go before you change your mind. Did you put on your scent blocker?"

“I did. I even took my Omega Beta blocker pill.” I confirmed.

“Good, now let's go.”

The cab ride to Club Obsidian took twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of Kira explaining the club's rules—consent is mandatory, safewords are respected, voyeurism is allowed but participation requires negotiation, all are expected to behave themselves or get thrown out by security.

"And the owners?" Kira said as we pulled up to a nondescript building in the Meatpacking District. "They're wolf Alphas. Brothers. Gorgeous, dominant, completely unavailable. Every Omega and Beta in the city has tried to get their attention. No one's succeeded."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're going to see them and I want you to be prepared. No need to put your sights on them." She paid the driver and we stepped out onto the sidewalk.

There was already a line. Mostly Omegas, a handful of Betas, a few Alphas who looked like they spent more time in the gym than anywhere else.

"We're not waiting in that," I said.

"We don't have to." Kira flashed a black card at the bouncer—a massive Beta who looked like he could bench-press a car. "VIP passes. Courtesy of a very grateful client."

He waved us through without a word. Inside, Club Obsidian was exactly what I'd expected and nothing like I'd imagined.

The main floor was elegant with low lighting, velvet furniture, and a bar that gleamed.

Private rooms lined the upper level, their frosted glass windows offering just enough visibility to intrigue without revealing.

Well, some of them showed exactly what was happening inside.

And the smells. It seemed as if I could scent every person in the building, a side effect of the blocker.

My senses heightened and my scent weakened to the point of nonexistence.

I smelled leather, arousal, and something darker, something primal that made my hindbrain sit up and pay attention even as my conscious mind recoiled.

"Breathe," Kira said. "You're fine."

"I'm fine," I repeated.

"Good. Now let's get you a drink."

We made our way to the bar. Kira ordered us both vodka tonics while I tried not to stare at the scene unfolding on one of the couches.

There was a male Alpha with his Omega sprawled across his lap, her eyes closed in bliss as his hand moved between her thighs.

No one was watching them. No one cared. This was normal here.

But my eyes were drawn to his hand and what it was potentially doing.

While I didn’t want the asshole tendencies that Alphas had, I did want the sexual release that was rumored to exist between an Alpha and an Omega.

I’d settled for a few Betas to satisfy my sexual urges, but none of them could fill me the way that I needed.

Anatomically, it was impossible. However, I’d come to understand and accept that to be the case.

"Your drink," Kira said, pressing the cold glass into my hand.

I took it gratefully and downed half in one swallow.

"Easy," she laughed. "We've got all night."

"I need to not be sober for this."

"Fair."

I was reaching for another sip when the crowd near the VIP bar shifted.

And I saw them. Two men. Both tall, both built like they could break someone in half without trying.

One had dark hair cropped close, sharp features, eyes that missed nothing.

The other was leaner, covered in tattoos, with a smile that looked dangerous even from across the room.

The Alphas and owners of the club. And they were both staring directly at me.