Knot The One They Want

Keion Pov

My gaze immediately travels over to Walter on the bed. He is rocking back and forth frantically, his body trembling violently. I was so caught up in my heated argument with Oril that I completely failed to notice the sudden change in the atmosphere.

A heavy, suffocating scent of sweet cinnamon buns hangs thick in the air. It is entirely too sweet, almost sickeningly rich.

Walter is going into heat.

Damn it. It is a day or two early. The sudden shift must have been triggered by his sky-high stress and heightened emotions.

"He is in heat," Oril says, stepping out from the closet as if on cue.

What awful timing. This is going to be one heck of an awkward knotting session. I should probably go get Augi. I wonder why he didn’t come earlier, though. It is not like he can’t feel Walter’s intense emotions echoing through the bond right now. Maybe he simply couldn’t leave Torin by himself.

Speaking of Torin, if we are going to be tied up and busy for the whole week dealing with Walter, Torin cannot be left alone. For that matter, Lorali cannot be left unattended either. Who knows what kind of chaos and damage she can cause over the span of an entire week if no one is keeping a watchful eye on her.

Who can babysit them? Definitely not any of Torin’s parents. Putting them anywhere near each other will only end in utter flames.

Erin? Yeah, he would probably be down to watch Torin. I am not so sure about him taking on Lorali, though. Still, Erin it is.

The only problem is, what is his actual phone number? I only know of his existence through word of mouth, along with the fact that he is Torin’s best friend. That is completely it.

Lorali Pov

It hadn’t been raining when I first bought the green tea ice cream, but the sky completely collapses into a steady, relentless drizzle by the time I reach the bus stop outside. I stand quietly under the rusted metal awning to shield myself from the cold water dripping from the roof. One hand is crammed deep into my heavy coat pocket for warmth, while the plastic bag filled with random snacks stays wrapped snugly around my wrist so it will not slip from my grip.

I left the penthouse to get food for myself and to avoid the absolute shit show I know will be coming my way after I broke Walter’s precious vases. If I stay a minute longer, one of Walter’s prized, slobbering Alpha Rottweilers that obey his every command will come bounding around the corner to hound me into making an apology. I wouldn’t do it anyway. All that would happen is I would completely lose my shit. I know a lot of people probably think I am crazy, but I can promise you that I am not. I am just deeply irrational, not crazy. There is a huge difference.

I take a slow lick of the matcha ice cream cone in my free hand. It tastes like cold, sweetened grass. It is an absolutely absurd flavor for a cone, yet I cannot stop eating it. Rain splatters rhythmically against the slick pavement, reflecting the flickering neon lights of the night street.

"Why are you eating ice cream at night?"

I look down. A small boy clad in a bright yellow raincoat is standing right beside me. On his far side, his mother holds his tiny hand while remaining completely oblivious to his chatting, her head tilted down toward her shoulder as she jabs furiously at her phone screen.

"Ice cream at night is bad for your ⁠teeth," the kid adds, squinting up at me through the drizzle.

I lick a melting green drop off my thumb before answering. "Aren’t kids like you supposed to be sleeping for school tomorrow?"

The boy puffs out his chest with an air of absolute authority, looking immensely proud of himself. "Nope! Tomorrow is Saturday. I don’t have school, and my mommy lets me stay up all night on Fridays."

"Well, aren’t you a lucky little rebel," I chuckle softly.

Reaching into the plastic bag wrapped around my wrist, I rummage through my haul of random snacks until I pull out a small, colorful bag of fruit gummies. I kneel down slightly to reach his level and hand the candy over to him.

"Here. I am sure these will help you power through the long night ahead."

His eyes go wide with excitement, and he takes the bag as if it is made of pure gold. "Thanks!" See. I’m not crazy.

"Don’t eat them all at once, kiddo," I smile, straightening up just as the heavy screech of worn brakes echoes through the wet air.

The city bus pulls up directly to the curb, splashing a wave of rainwater against the tire guards. The doors fold open with a sharp mechanical hiss. The little boy, his mother, and I board the vehicle in a small parade. Inside, the bus is packed tightly, filled with a sea of tired office workers in dark coats heading home after a long week. They stare blankly at their phones or out into the fogged glass of the windows.

I scan the narrow aisle for an open spot. Near the middle of the vehicle, there is a single empty seat. I shuffle down the aisle, clutching my bag of snacks tightly against my chest, and slide into the empty spot with a long, tired sigh.

I do not even bother looking at the person sitting in the window seat right beside me. I just lean my head straight back against the cold vinyl seat, watching the blurry city lights smear across the rain-slick glass.

Then, a gentle hand taps me softly on the shoulder. I turn my head, blinking in surprise as I finally look over at my seatmate. The woman sitting beside me stares back at me with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Lorali? Is that really you?" My heart stops instantly in my chest.

"Sash?"

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