AN ALPHA IN HEAT: KNOTTED BY THREE POSSESSIVE ALPHAS

The sharp cramp in my lower abdomen forces my eyes open before my morning alarm even has a chance to ring on the nightstand. I groan and press the heel of my right hand directly against my stomach, and I wait for the dull ache to subside, but the pain only radiates further down my thighs. This is the third morning in a row that my body has tried to betray me, and the impending heat is becoming much harder to ignore with each passing hour. I push the heavy, dark duvet off my sweating body and force myself to sit up on the edge of the mattress. I need to get moving before my thoughts spiral into a panic.

I walk across the cold hardwood floor of my bedroom and head straight into the adjoining master bathroom. I reach into the glass enclosure and turn the shower faucet all the way to the coldest setting because my internal core temperature is entirely too high. The freezing water hits my heated skin the moment I step under the spray, and I lean my forehead against the damp tile while trying to regulate my ragged breathing. I grab a bar of soap and vigorously scrub away the overly sweet scent that is beginning to seep from my pores, and I deliberately replace it with the sharp, artificial pine body wash I always use to mask my natural pheromones.

After turning off the water, I grab a thick towel from the heated rack and dry my hair. I walk over to the marble sink and open the medicine cabinet to retrieve the unmarked amber pill bottle hidden securely behind my shaving cream. Dr. Evans specifically told me last week that taking more than two of these experimental suppressants a day would eventually shut down my liver, yet I desperately shake three of the heavy white pills into my palm anyway. I cannot afford to be weak today, and I certainly cannot afford to go into a full heat during the most important meeting of my life. I fill a small glass with tap water, toss the pills to the back of my throat, and swallow them down quickly. The bitter aftertaste lingers on my tongue as I grip the edges of the sink and stare at my reflection in the mirror.

I look exactly how the Alpha boss of the Southside Syndicate should look. My jaw is firmly clenched, my steel-gray eyes are sharp, and my broad shoulders are squared securely. I leave the bathroom and walk into my large walk-in closet to select my clothing for the day. I choose a charcoal tailored suit, a crisp white button-down shirt, and a dark silver tie. I take my time buttoning the shirt and adjusting the cuffs, and I make sure every single piece of clothing fits perfectly to project absolute authority.

I leave my bedroom and walk down the grand staircase of my estate to the kitchen. The house is quiet, and I walk over to the espresso machine resting on the granite counter. I pull a dark shot of espresso and drink it straight from the small cup, letting the hot caffeine shock my system. I open the stainless steel refrigerator and grab a cold green apple, taking a slow bite to settle my rolling stomach.

A sharp knock sounds against the kitchen door frame just as I am tossing the apple core into the trash bin.

"Come in," I call out while wiping my hands on a cloth towel.

The door swings open, and Daniel steps into the room. He is my lead enforcer and my most trusted friend, and as usual, he is loudly chewing a piece of peppermint gum. He is wearing a dark suit that mirrors my own formal style, and he holds a sleek leather folder tightly under his left arm.

"The cars are fueled and waiting out front, Beau," Daniel says, stepping further into the kitchen and resting the folder onto the island. "The security sweep at the Continental Hotel is completely done, and our men have secured the perimeter around the private conference room."

"Did Vincent Rossi’s men cause any trouble near the eastern borders last night?" I ask him, turning to face him fully so I can gauge his actual expression.

"No, the East End Cartel stayed completely quiet," Daniel replies, though he narrows his brown eyes and studies my face closely. He stops chewing his gum for a second and frowns. "Are you feeling all right? You look flushed around the collar, and you are sweating even though the central air conditioning is running on high."

I force my expression to remain completely neutral, and I casually wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. "I am perfectly fine, Daniel. I just took a very hot shower, and the steam is still clearing out of my system. Do not worry about my health today."

Daniel nods slowly, though he still looks slightly unconvinced by my excuse. "We need you at full strength for this negotiation. Rhett Gallagher is not going to make this territory merger easy for us, and his enforcer, Seth, has a brutal reputation for testing boundaries. We are walking into a room with three very powerful Alphas, and we really need to show them that the Southside Syndicate is not desperate for their help."

"We are not desperate at all," I state firmly, picking up the leather folder from the island and checking the printed contract details inside. "We are offering the Northside Triad a mutually beneficial alliance. They need our shipping routes just as much as we need their extra manpower to push Vincent Rossi out of the city limits. I am not going to bow down to Rhett or anyone else in that room."

"Good," Daniel says, finally cracking a small smile and resuming his chewing. "Because if things go wrong during the talks, we are heavily outnumbered inside that hotel."

"Nothing is going to go wrong," I assure him, closing the heavy folder and walking past him toward the front hallway. "Let us go. I do not want to keep the Triad waiting and give them a reason to doubt our professionalism."

We walk down the long entryway of my estate and head out the heavy front doors. The morning air is crisp and cool against my face, and the breeze helps soothe the lingering heat trapped under my skin. I slide into the back seat of the black armored SUV, and Daniel climbs into the passenger side next to my driver. The engine rumbles to life, the driver pulls out of the massive iron gates, and we begin the long thirty-minute drive to the neutral hotel located in the center of the financial district.

I spend the entire ride reviewing the terms of the merger in silence, and I deliberately keep my mind focused on the business so I do not think about the agonizing cramps slowly returning to my lower stomach. The heavy suppressants are working for now, but they are barely holding the biological tide back. I watch the city buildings pass by through the tinted window, and I practice taking slow, measured breaths to keep my heart rate completely steady.

The SUV eventually pulls up to the lavish entrance of the Continental Hotel, and Daniel quickly gets out to open my door. I step onto the concrete pavement, adjust my suit jacket one final time to ensure it sits perfectly, and walk through the revolving glass doors with Daniel right beside me. We walk past the busy lobby and take the private VIP elevator up to the penthouse conference floor. The silence inside the metal box is heavy and suffocating as the floors tick upward on the digital display. When the elevator doors finally slide open, we step out into the plush, quiet hallway.

Two massive, heavily armed guards wearing the Triad’s specific emblem stand directly in front of the double oak doors at the end of the long hall. They open the heavy doors without saying a single word as I approach them. I take one last deep breath, mentally locking away my physical pain, and step confidently into the expansive conference room.

Rhett, Seth, and Dean are already sitting comfortably at the long mahogany table, and the sheer force of their combined Alpha pheromones hits me so hard I actually stumble slightly over my own feet.

Seth stands up immediately, his intense hazel eyes locking onto my face as he takes a very deep breath of the air between us, and he tilts his head in absolute confusion.

"Rhett," Seth says slowly, never breaking eye contact with me. "Why does the ruthless Boss of the Southside Syndicate carry the exact scent of an Omega who is desperately begging to be bred?"