Knot Happening Again (Claimverse Book 2)

Jace staggers from the blow, but he recovers quickly. His fist connects with my jaw, snapping my head back.

The taste of copper floods my mouth as I stumble.

Fuck.

Thought I had him.

I’m losing focus.

The crowd roars, a dull buzz in my ears.

Sweat stings my eyes as I dodge another blow.

Barely.

My muscles scream, begging for a break I can’t afford.

Ophelia’s face flashes in my mind.

Those piercing blue eyes, the curve of her lips.

The way she looked at me this morning, guarded but softer than before. It’s been months since I found her again, months of trying to prove I’ve changed. That I’m not the same coward who left her all those years ago.

But in the face of all those years…

That time and effort feels like nothing.

I know a few extravagant gifts aren’t nearly enough to begin to scratch the surface of the ice that’s formed on her heart toward me. But I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t pass up a single opportunity to show her what she means to me for the rest of my life.

And I intend to keep that promise.

Judging from how much time she’s been spending in her new studio, the gifts haven’t been a complete miss. But now that I’m in the ring, and I should be focused on my opponent, I find myself racking my brain for what to get her next.

Is a personal private jet too over the top?

One she can use that doesn’t have my scent all over it?

Would she think I’m just trying to buy her forgiveness?

Jace hits me again.

My head snaps back, ears ringing.

His leg sweeps out and I hit the mat hard.

The ref starts the count.

“One.”

“Two.”

Mace is right.

That’s what I get for getting lost in my head.

I’ve never had that problem before.

Then again, fighting has been all that’s kept me from completely losing my mind over her absence in my life for all these years.

Now that she’s finally with our pack…

I roll, pushing myself up on shaky arms.

“Three.”

“Four.”

My gaze darts to the crowd, searching.

There.

A spotlight seems to shine on her.

She glows beneath it, watching me.

Like an angel.

She’s here.

She came.

“Five.”

“Six.”

I’ve never given a shit about impressing anyone before.

Fighting’s always been instinctive.

As natural as breathing.

But now…

“Seven.”

I struggle to my feet, legs trembling.

Jace circles, predatory.

He thinks he’s got me.

Maybe he does.

“Eight.”All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

Our eyes lock across the arena.

Ophelia.

She’s on her feet, lips parted, hands clenched.

Is she worried?

Disappointed?

“Nine.”

She’s… cheering.

For me.

Something ignites in my chest.

A fire I thought I’d lost.

With a roar, I lunge at Jace.

He’s caught off guard, expecting me to be done.

My fist connects with his sternum.

He stumbles back.

I press my advantage, unleashing a flurry of punches.

Left. Right. Left.

His guard drops.

An uppercut to his chin sends him reeling.

The crowd’s frenzy fades away.

Can’t hear anything anymore.

I’m completely in the zone.

There’s only Jace, me, and the distant beacon of Ophelia’s presence. I dance around him, dodging his increasingly desperate swings.

He’s getting tired.

And I’m just getting started.

A kick to his solar plexus.

He doubles over.

I grab him.

My knee connects with his face as I pull him down.

Blood sprays.

He crumples.

The ref starts the count. Jace doesn’t get up.

The bell rings.

It’s over.

I won.

The ref raises my hand. The announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, declaring me the victor, still the reigning champion.

But it feels hollow.

Empty.

I don’t give a shit about any of this.

I shake Jace’s hand when he gets back on his feet, murmur something about a good fight. My eyes are already searching the crowd again.

Where is she?

Mace’s huge hand claps my shoulder as soon as I step out of the ring. ‘Damn, kid! You had me worried there for a second. What a comeback!’

I nod, distracted. ‘Thanks, man. Hey, did you see⁠—’

‘She’s backstage,’ Mace says, a knowing glint in his eye. ‘With Natalie and the others.’

My heart leaps.

She stayed.

She’s waiting.

I push through the throng of reporters and well-wishers, barely registering their congratulations. My skin itches, the need to see her, to touch her, overwhelming.

The noise fades as I enter the quiet of the backstage area. And there she is.

Ophelia stands with Natalie, both of them turning at my approach. Natalie beams, bouncing on her toes. ‘That was amazing!’

But I barely hear her.

My focus narrows to Ophelia.

She’s breathtaking, as always. A loose tendril of hair falls across her face.

My fingers itch to brush it back.

‘Thanks,’ I say hoarsely. “Uh… hey.’

Ophelia meets my gaze. “Hey. Good fight.”

Her expression is guarded, but there’s something else there. Pride? I’m afraid to hope.

I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. To bury my face in her neck and breathe in her intoxicating scent.

To kiss her until we’re both breathless.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

“Thanks for coming,” I say instead, my voice rough. “Means a lot.”

She nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. ‘Well, I couldn’t miss seeing you get your ass kicked, could I?’

I laugh, some of the tension easing. ‘Guess I ruined that for you in the end, huh?’

‘I guess I’ll forgive you,’ she says, her smile growing. Just a little bit, but still. It’s growing.

God, she’s beautiful.

And when she smiles…

I want to make her smile like that every day for as long as I live.

But there’s still a wall between us. I can see it in the way she holds herself, slightly apart from me. In the wariness that lingers in her eyes.

‘Ophelia, I—’ I start, not sure what I’m going to say.

That I’m sorry?

That I love her?

That it means everything that she came?

‘Leon!’ Maddox’s voice cuts through the moment. He strides over, Rhys and Troy in tow. ‘Helluva fight, champ!’

I force a smile, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. So close to… what? Another apology? A declaration?

I don’t even know.

Rhys claps me on the back, his touch grounding. ‘You had us worried for a minute there.’

‘Yeah, well,’ I shrug, ‘gotta keep things interesting, right?’

Troy snorts. ‘Interesting? That’s what you call nearly getting your ass handed to you?’

I glance over my shoulder, always feeling a deep, primal need to keep track of Ophelia.

So I can’t lose her again.

When I see her and Mace sharing a moment, embracing as she giggles at whatever the big, burly alpha just whispered in her ear, I feel a familiar ache.

A special kind of torture.

It’s grown as natural as breathing.

I open my mouth to shoot something right back at Troy, but Maddox cuts in. ‘Hate to break up the love fest, boys, but the adoring public awaits.’ He jerks his thumb toward the exit. ‘Press is chomping at the bit to get a few lines from the champ.’

I grunt reluctantly.

The last thing I want is to leave Ophelia’s side.

But she’s clearly distracted at the moment.

‘Go on,’ Rhys says, catching my hesitation. ‘We’ll be waiting.’

I nod, stealing one last glance at Ophelia. She looks up, to my surprise, and gives me a slight wave.

That’s enough to propel me forward.

The press room is a circus, cameras flashing, reporters shouting over each other. I paste on my media smile, settling into the familiar rhythm of post-fight interviews.

‘Leon! How does it feel to defend your title?’

‘What was going through your mind during that comeback?’

I field the questions on autopilot, mind half on the woman waiting backstage.

Then…

‘Is it true your pack has a new omega?’

The question catches me off guard. I blink, thrown off my game. ‘Uh, what?’

Another reporter jumps in before I can gather my thoughts. ‘Sources say you’ve been seen with an unclaimed omega. Care to comment?’

My hackles rise.

How the hell did they find out about Ophelia?

And so quickly?

‘No comment,’ I growl, searching for Maddox in the crowd.

Where the fuck is he?

But the vultures smell blood in the water.

They press closer, microphones thrust in my face.

‘Is it true she’s an escort?’

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Red bleeds into my vision and time seems to slow to a crawl like it does in the ring.

‘Excuse me?’ I grit out.

‘How do you feel about having an omega half the other alphas in the city have had?’ the reporter clarifies.

Something in me snaps.

With a roar, I lunge at the reporter who asked the question. My fist connects with his jaw, sending him sprawling. I’m on him in an instant, raining down blows.

‘Don’t you ever fucking talk about her like that!’ I snarl, punctuating each word with a punch even as his broken teeth cut up my knuckles.

Hands grab at me, trying to pull me off.

I shake them away, lost in a haze of rage.

‘Leon! Leon, stop!’

Mace’s voice cuts through the fog. His meaty arms wrap around me, hauling me back. I struggle against him, snarling.

‘Let me go!’

‘Not a chance, kid,’ Mace grunts. “I’m not letting you get put away for murder. He ain’t worth it.”

Security swarms in, creating a barrier between me and the stunned reporters. The one I attacked is being helped to his feet, blood streaming from his nose and mouth.

‘Anyone else want to talk shit?’ Mace growls, his alpha presence filling the room. ‘I won’t hold him back next time.’

The press backs off, muttering amongst themselves. Now they’ve really got a story.

Good. Maybe next time they’ll think before they⁠—

I scan the crowd, heart sinking as I catch a glimpse of raven hair disappearing through the exit.

‘Shit,’ I mutter, wrenching free from Mace’s grip. She heard everything. “Ophelia! Wait!”

I push past security, ignoring their protests. But when I make it into the hallway, she’s already gone.

Fuck!