Knot Your Damn Omega (Slate City Omegaverse)

I chunked more of the destroyed make-up palette onto the white marble slab in front of me before reaching for the bottle of linseed oil out of sight of the camera. I was out of binder and didn’t feel like making more, so oil it was.

The color was gorgeous today, a peacock green which shimmered purple and blue when it moved in the light. As I picked up my smallest glass muller and slowly began to mix the paint, my shoulders started to relax. I hadn’t left my house since the party, and that was just fine with me. A couple of days in the house wouldn’t kill me. None of the world needed to see me right now.

Music blared through the speakers, and I was glad my face was never in these videos and that I always replaced the sound. It meant I could sing at the top of my lungs and no one gave a shit but me.

The paint I was making was going to be incredibly exclusive. Simply because there wasn’t much of this pigment. Eva gave me all the make-up palettes she didn’t want, and I used them sometimes when I didn’t want to buy bigger pigment shipments. Or when I was bored.

Companies practically rained down gifts on her head, so I always had plenty of these to use. And people loved fighting over which ones they’d get when I put them up for sale.

I snorted, imagining what people would think if they knew they were buying watercolors from one of the most infamous Omegas on the planet.

I’d avoided everything on purpose the last couple of days. I wasn’t interested in seeing a picture of me wrapped around Bennett Gray like I was a monkey. No matter that I couldn’t get his vanilla cupcake scent out of my nose, and there were faint traces of it still on my skin because I hadn’t bothered to shower it off.

Gross? Maybe. But no one was here to see me, and it wasn’t like I was going to see him again.

And sure, I looked him up, since Eva seemed to know who he was. I think I lost several hours yesterday going down the rabbit hole of not only him, but his entire pack. They were all experts in their own right and owned a tattoo shop downtown. Nautilus.

Their work was beautiful. Once I was scrolling, I recognized some of their work. Particularly a tattoo of a statue Bennett had done on someone’s arm. It was so realistic it felt like you could reach into their skin and feel the stone. It still popped up in my feeds now and again.

All of them had an impressive level of skill, and it seemed like they could do pretty much anything. I didn’t have any tattoos, but scrolling through their work, which ranged from traditional to hyperrealism to watercolor, made me rethink it.

But I couldn’t get a tattoo from them. Because if it were Bennett tattooing me, all the lines would get messed up because I’d probably end up climbing him again. And if his pack smelled anything close to as good as he did? I would keel over and perish.

Not to mention they were all hot. Let me spread frosting on you and lick it off just as an excuse hot.

Maybe…

The tiniest part of my mind held a spark of hope, but I dismissed it just as quickly. One delicious smelling Alpha and one dance didn’t mean anything. Besides, they would know who I was because of how we met and the party. Either they wouldn’t want to deal with the kind of attention that came with even speaking to me, or they’d be more interested in Eva and her connections.

I slowed down my movements. My thoughts were making me move too fast, and speed didn’t make the best paint in my experience. For some pigments, maybe, but this was already fine and needed more mixing than crushing.

And there it was. I fought off the new wave of loneliness that washed over me, as they had every few hours since I came home. Fucking hell. Maybe I just needed to get laid.

Instantly, I recoiled.

Sex was fine. Great. But I’d learned through one too many encounters it was easier to stay home with a vibrator than risk either my date calling the paps, calling out Eva’s name during orgasm, or any of the other ridiculous things which had happened. Few of which I’d ever told anyone.

I’d be fine.

I was always fine.

Grabbing my little plastic containers from the box I kept them in, I lined them up after adjusting the camera to a closer angle. I would only need about five for this batch. Slowly, I scraped the paint off the marble and gently dripped it into the boxes in equal measurement.

One of my favorite parts.

The jarring dissonance of my phone ringing against the music made me jump. Eva’s name lit up the screen. I tapped off the music before I answered the call on speaker and went back to filling the paint pots. “Hello.”

“Wow, you sound like shit.”

I rolled my eyes. “And that kind of greeting is going to make me feel better?”

She laughed. “Fair point. I have the afternoon off. Want to have lunch?”

“I was actually planning on remaining in my house for the rest of history. I’m good.”

She sighed. “Come on, May-may. We’ll go to someplace tiny and dark with no room for photographers to follow us, and the whole thing will take two hours. Then I’ll let you slip back into whatever hole you’ve dug for yourself.”

I dabbed a glob of paint onto the top of one of my tiny boxes, creating the satisfying, barely overfilled bubble people always seemed to go nuts for in the videos. These would sell in about five seconds. But it was so pretty I kind of wanted to keep one just for me and use it on something new.

“You’re going to keep making up new excuses or ways to do things to get me out of the house, aren’t you?” I asked my sister.

“Bet your ass.”

Sighing, I glanced at what I had left. It wouldn’t take long. “Fine, but I need to finish these so they can dry, and I’m not changing.”

“Glad I didn’t have to do more convincing,” she said. “I’m letting myself in right now.”

The line went dead, and I heard her steps as she moved through the house and finally ended up in my studio. “Remind me to take back your key.”

“You want to cut off my thumb? That’s harsh.”

Security was obviously a big concern for us, so thumb-printed locks graced all of my doors with an alarm system which would make a museum’s look tame.

Eva looked me up and down and shrugged. “You’ve looked worse.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Oh, is this one of mine?” She leaned closer to the paint on the table.

I nodded. “Yeah. The palette is on the table behind me.”

“Oh, I remember this one. Nice.” I heard her move back toward my second studio—the one I used for my own paintings. I sold those under a fake name too. “Working on anything new?”

“No, but I am very tempted to keep some of this color and use it.”

“Do it. Imagine the craze of only selling three pots.”

I smirked. Eva was a fangirl of my paints in the way only a sister could be. Putting the finishing touches on the last pot, I turned off the camera and rinsed my tools.

“Okay, let me grab my shoes and let’s go.”

My hair was in a high ponytail, so you couldn’t really tell it was that greasy. Black leggings and an oversized pink hoodie were the rest of it. I grabbed a baseball hat and sunglasses too. No matter what Eva said, there was always the risk of photographers.

“Has it been bad?” I asked as I closed the door behind us and double-checked the lock.

“Has what been bad?”

I winced. “The press from the party. About me.”

Neil was there opening the car door for us, but she paused, eyes wide. “What are you talking about?”

“I haven’t looked, but I assumed there would be some sort of story about me and Bennett. How I climbed and practically licked him on the dance floor.”

Following her into the car, she pulled out her phone and started texting. “There was nothing.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “I don’t think the photographer got any of you two tangled up, and even if he had, I would have made sure it was never used. That was a nice moment for you, and like hell would I let anyone ruin it.”

My cheeks felt hot. “It was a nice moment. But that’s all it was.”

“Oh my god, Esme,” she flopped backwards, letting her head loll on the seat. “You’re going to tell me it meant nothing when you haven’t showered and I can still smell vanilla on you?”

“Is it bad?”

She dropped her face in her hands. “No, it’s not bad. But it tells me a lot about what actually happened. You know how long I refused to bathe after I met the guys because I couldn’t bear the thought of washing the scent off me? It was way past gross, and half the reason I knew it was real was because they were just as reluctant to wash me off them. It means everything.”

“His pack hasn’t met me. There’s no guarantee of anything.” Nerves swam in my gut and I swallowed. Reasonably I knew I was being overly stubborn, but I had good fucking reason to be after everything I’d tried. If there were a choice between being potentially rejected by a pack and keeping a nice memory, I’d keep the memory, thanks.

“Esme,” Eva leaned forward and looked at me. “Please tell me the truth. Do you like him?”

“I ran into him and danced with him. I have no idea if I like him.” Sighing, I pushed my hands into the pocket of my hoodie. They still sparkled with remnants of the pigment from earlier. “But yes. I’ve never felt anything like that before. And it scares the shit out of me.”

“Why?”

I couldn’t put voice to the truth. Eva knew how bad it was, and yet she didn’t. She didn’t live in this skin and didn’t understand how I butted up against her life in almost every way. Her life limited mine and formed the boundaries—it wasn’t her fault or her choice, but it was the way it was.

“Don’t make me beat it out of you.”

A laugh burst out of me. Between the two of us, I was probably the one who would win, but I understood she was trying to make me laugh. “Everything you already know aside,” I said. “The press already paints me as some kind of villain when I turn packs down. Imagine how hard they’d come after them if I was around this pack? Even if they did want me, that would put an end to it.”

“Yeah, I’m going to need you to stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Shutting good things down before they have a chance to happen. Who gives a shit what the media says? Remember how badly they went after Mindless Delirium when we met? Was it rough? Yes. But it didn’t matter in the end because I was happy and so were they. If you’re truly happy, they can’t touch you.”

I slumped back against the leather seat, staring at the car ceiling. On the one hand, she was right, and on the other, I was a realist. The media loved Eva, and they were likely to forgive her more than they would me.

Eva had her phone out, texting someone. Probably Jasmine. Her schedule was so busy I was amazed she even had time to grab lunch. “So, where are we going again?”

“Almost there.”

We were downtown now, the mix of slick high-rises mixed with older, more decorative buildings always an interesting thing to watch. When I was a little younger and I didn’t have as much attention on me, I liked to come down here and draw the juxtaposition between the old and the new.

But this neighborhood wasn’t where we’d find a hole-in-the-wall restaurant to eat.

The car pulled to the curb, and I saw the sign on the storefront we landed in front of. “No.”

Nautilus.

There was a twisting spiral next to the word, evoking the image of the shell, but not completely. The studio where Bennett and his entire pack worked.

“Esme, it’s going to be fine.”

I looked at her, my heart already pounding. “Why would you bring me here when I look like this? When I still smell like him?”

Leaning across the car, she touched my knee. “Do you really think I would have let you out of the house to meet your future pack if I thought you looked bad? You look casual and adorable, and whether or not you believe it, smelling like him is only going to help you here.”

I whined, anxiety welling up in my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why are we here?”

“Because I never would have gotten you out of the house at all if I had. Listen. If this is too much and you’re genuinely terrified, I won’t make you go in. But I hope you know I only want you to be happy, May-may.”

Could I do this? Every part of me was terrified. But that tiny piece of me which had kept hope alive the past two days while I stalked all of them on social media perked her head up. The traitor.

“And we’re here because I didn’t lie. I’ve always wanted a tattoo by Bennett, and I think it’s a good way to start to crack this goody-two-shoes image I have. There might even be a possibility to record the process. It could be a really great opportunity for everyone involved, so when they reached out I said yes right away.”

I’d stopped listening after she mentioned her image. So this wasn’t entirely about me. In a way, it was relieving. Eva was still talking, but I couldn’t keep the words down. “They know I’m coming?”

“They do, and they were fucking ecstatic about it.”

My stomach flipped. Neil opened the door, and Eva started to get out. “You coming?”

I wanted to say no and get a cab home. But that traitorous piece of my heart knew if I walked away now, I’d always wonder, and I didn’t want to be left with questions forever.

Putting on my hat and sunglasses, I got out of the car.