Page 43 of Knot Only For One Night

“I smoke too. Well, I ingest. Is that the same?” I ask, and Neven shrugs. “I don’t have an issue with weed or selling it. It’s just… like, you should have told me.”

Reed’s hand on my hip tightens. “Would it have changed anything?” Worry is laced all over his face, and suddenly I feel guilty for putting it there.

They still should have told me, but…

“No,” I answer honestly. It wouldn’t have, even before finding out they are my scent matches. I take his hand, bring it to my lips, and kiss his knuckles over a black swirl tattoo he has there. His whole body sags like a deflating balloon.

“What about the fighting, though?” I ask, thinking of Reed’s run-in with Mike and eyeing Asher now, who shrugs.

“We’re not the only club around,” Asher says. “Especially right now. Others try to test boundaries, and we have to defend ourselves.”

“‘Not like a gang,’ huh?” I chuckle, letting the revelation of their actual jobs wash over me.

I’m dating motorcycle club members. Plural. Wow. What are the chances?

Asher shoves the remainder of his cookie into his mouth right as he adds, “Red is the President,” with the casual air of someone sharing the date.

“Reed!” I yell, slapping his arm. “Is that why you are in the business program?"

“I’m not the President. My dad is. I have to be voted in, whenever the vote takes place.”

“So I'm dating various members of the…”

“Mighnight Wolves,” Neven supplies with a smile on his face and I nod.

Midnight Wolves. That’s stinking adorable. “So, soon-to-be President, a computer genius, and…”

“I work in the Dispensary,” Asher says and nods toward Neven, who takes his water bottle back and sips from it. Touching his lips to where mine just did. A heat floods to my cheeks that absolutely should not be there at this moment.

“Cool,” I say, turning to my cookie.

Is it cool? Is it dangerous? Am I not taking this seriously enough?

“‘Cool’?” Reed echoes.

Another tattoo-clad, motorcycle-riding face pops into my head. Knowing that the universe has a sense of humor, I had a theory that needed confirming.

I swipe some stray crumbs off the table, watching them fall instead of meeting anyone’s eyes. “Can I ask… Do you have a member named S—or, well, would you know his real name?”

Neven tilts his head back and forth. “We might. Tell us who?”

“Who do we need to fuck up?” Reed asks, and I shake my head.

“No! Not like that. I, um, I met this guy,” I say, leaving out the bit about being scent matches, “at the laundromat and I… we hit it off.” When I look back up, Asher angles to meet my gaze and raises both eyebrows. I nod. “His name is Soren.”

“Oh, Fox,” Reed says, instantly knowing who I’m talking about. “He’s my… friend.”

“Are you more than friends? Why did you say it like that?” I ask and Asher leans in, his eyes pinned on Reed, who shakes his head.

“No, just friends. We grew up close. He’s a beta who was also… an outcast of sorts.”

Also an outcast.

Reed’s an omega. A male omega in a motorcycle club. Full of macho men, probably. And he’s the President’s son. Damn.

As Soren’s name hangs in the air, I look at each of the men sitting here at this table with me. Neven’s caramel scent, Reed's pancakes, Asher’s pomegranate, Soren’s cinnamon.

It’s almost like a lock clicks into place as the last piece of my puzzle reveals itself.