Forget Me Knot (PoisonVerse #2), page 1
FORGET ME KNOT
THE POISONVERSE
MARIE MACKAY
Copyright © 2023 by Marie Mackay
Edition 1.0
All rights reserved.
Cover made by Marie Mackay
Copy Edits done by Jessica Gilly
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
CONTENTS
Content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Epilogue
Want more?!
Hannah’s Story
Afterword
Also by me
To Erin.
My best friend, and someone with as much fire and passion as Onyx. Who has survived so much, and still come out a fighter. A protector. A beautiful person.
Keep shining.
CONTENT
HOLD UP! Is there anything I should be aware of as a reader?
Yes! Let me get you a list so you know what you’re getting into:
This is an MMFMMM, a scent matched pack including a male omega who is a part of the scent match.
Home invasion, stuffing omegas in metal vaults for their own safety, somewhat consensual kidnapping, and stalkers.
References of human trafficking and backstory of sexual assault entirely off-screen.
Anything else?
Not quite done! Discussion of infertility and a woman's role in society but without touching on grief associated with infertility. Gun and knife violence. References to murder of omegas. PTSD and grief.
Also for spice tastes: there are group scenes, MM, and spanking.
Oh, also! I write in British English (Realize/realise) I was born in England and now live in Canada. Sometimes my language and dialogue has some funky flavour (I’ve given up fighting it)
Cheerio, let’s have a cuppa, eh bud?
…
Thanks for giving this book a shot, and enjoy the ride!
ONE
Onyx
You truly are your own worst enemy, Onyx.
My dad’s warning felt far too prophetic right now. I sat in the backseat. A folder stuck from the emerald handbag I clutched to my chest as my driver pulled away from the Institute.
“There’s been a mistake.” The words rang in my head.
It had taken me too long to come, and now that I had, I wish I’d never risked it because the plan had worked so perfectly it was almost laughable. Until it hadn’t.
I’d found a scent match.
Detective Ash’s last piece of advice wasn’t something I’d been able to shake. It’s not a problem you can throw money at. You need to find a pack, a scent match, if possible, so they will claim you even if they learn the truth.
I didn’t need to see the text to remember it. The message was burned into my brain. And I’d done it. Against all of my instincts, all of my better judgement, against the weight of the guilt dogging me, I’d done it.
That text from Detective Ash had been sent a week ago. I’d spent every night warring with guilt, terrified of turning the corners in my own house, terrified every time I entered a room with a light off until finally, I cracked.
And so there’d I’d been, just moments ago in the Valentine Division’s lobby tapping my heel anxiously as I waited. I was due the report on the scent I’d identified—the pack I’d just damned—when a mousy-haired beta approached and said the thing that had turned my day upside down. No. My life upside down.
“A mistake?” I’d asked, mind reeling. What could that mean? “I know they were a match.”
I’d been in a room with so many scents, and one had called to me. It had been unmistakable. Could I have been wrong? For a moment, the relief almost choked me.
It was wrong of me to come here. Cruel and selfish. I dug manicured nails into my favourite emerald purse and I almost reached for the little pocket within.
“C-correct ma’am.” The woman before me wrung her fingers anxiously, her face pale. “The mistake wasn’t whether or not you got a match.”
“What other possible mistake could there be?” I had what I came for. Now I just needed what was inside that file she was so desperately clutching.
A pack was in there, waiting. I’d only been exposed to packs who found my other ailment acceptable, though that particular issue was one the Institute was all too aware of.
But also it meant the pack in that file might actually… want me.
I wanted to stand, but I couldn’t move as I stared up at her. “Tell me.”
She swallowed, a shaky hand patting her pencil skirt flat as she searched for the words. “Well…” She took a breath. “Our pack database is broad. We keep scents from all over—not just the ones from eligible packs looking for an omega—”
“What happened?” I snapped, panic rising in my chest.
“It seems there was a mix-up.”
“A mix-up how?”
“The scent you matched with. It wasn’t supposed to be in that room.”
“What other kinds of pack scents do you have here?”
Scent matching was a strange thing that no one quite understood. It was theorised each omega had many potential scent matches across the globe—something about chance and proximity. But the moment either pack or omega experienced a complimentary scent, it locked in. That was it. Fated mates. I wouldn’t get a scent match with any other pack.
With money like I had, I could pay for the Institute’s special database in hopes of finding a pack closer to my status.
I was playing the odds.
“It’s like fingerprinting, ma’am. When packs have a history in the system, we log them. The vial was mixed up with another database.”
“Another database?” My voice was weak.
The woman nodded.
“Which database?”
“The…” She cleared her throat, and her next words were barely a rasp. “C-criminal division, ma’am.”
I stared at her, the words saturating my brain much too slowly. “Criminals?” I asked. “You’re saying… You just exposed me to the scent of a criminal pack—and I matched them?”
The woman’s mouth worked for a moment, but she settled on a quick nod.
“But… It’s forever.” Forever or until death. I shook my head. “Check again. There’s been a mistake.”
“W-we have, ma’am.” Her voice had descended to nothing more than a wisp.
No. She didn’t understand how much I needed this to work, this wasn’t love or romance. It was blind desperation.
“I’m so sorry.” Finally, the woman opened the folder before her, and from it she pulled a few photographs.
I took them from her, heart in my throat.
They looked… Well, they looked exactly as I had expected a pack of convicts to look. There were three of them, each wildly different, and none looked like the kind of alpha I would go near.
Malakai St. James
King Hansen
Arsenal Gray
Small, as packs went.
Malakai had mid-brown skin with black eyes and his dark hair was tied up in a bun. He had a slender face of sharp angles and his nose was strong and straight. His head was tilted back just slightly and he looked bored.
King had tan skin, a blond sweep of hair with contrasting dark brows and a nose that could only be described as cute. Even in this shot, he managed to look pretty, but the expression in his sharp green eyes was drawn and dead.
Arsenal’s skin was pale, and he had a wide set to his jaw, a strong nose, and dark hair that swung just to his brows. His tattoos stretched up his neck, a few reaching his face. There was a downward arrow beside his ear and a tattooed cross just beside his temple. His lip was curled just slightly in the photo, a half snarl for the camera.
“What did they do?” I asked. The woman’s face, if possible, went even paler. “I… I’m not supposed to say.”
“You can’t tell me?
“And I’ll need… them back—the pictures. I shouldn’t really have shown you at all.”
“What?” I asked, trying to keep up. “Part of the package I purchased was a folder with my match’s information.”
“R-right, but this pack wasn’t registered in our Valentine System. They didn’t consent to have their information handed out.”
“You just matched me with a pack of criminals, and now you won’t tell me anything about them?”
“It would be a violation of their rights—”
“Their rights?” I could hear the edge of panic in my voice. “You just stole my chance at protec—at a pack. I’ll never match another.”
Primal terror was seeping into my blood, the world suddenly dizzying. I didn’t realise I’d gotten to my feet, my aura leaching out into the small room. The woman’s mouth dropped open as I stepped toward her, and I had no idea what my expression might look like right now. She barely fought me when I grabbed the folder, only holding on for the briefest moment.
“You’re really not supposed to…” She trailed off as a low growl rose in my throat, and then the folder was in my hands and I was striding from the room. There was no security—I was an omega after all, not an alpha—and the exit was just around the corner.
“I have to report this—” Her voice carried after me. I spun on her before catching myself.
“Yes, you do need to report this. And make sure to mention my lawyer will be in touch.”
I slammed the door and fled.
Now I was home, leaning on my balcony as dusk crept across the cloudy sky. The file was open with all the details I wasn’t supposed to have.
Murder, armed robbery and… another murder.
The only glimmer of good news—which the woman hadn’t mentioned—was that they’d not gone to prison. They’d gone to Middle Gritch Juvenile Justice Centre. The crimes they’d committed had been when they were teens. Their pack, it seemed, had met in juvie and formed after they were all released. The file had the bare bones only but, despite the crimes listed, none of them had been transferred to an adult detention centre after they came of age. That gave me hope, and I clung to it.
I teetered on the brink of the decision squaring me up. Their address was right here in front of me. They lived in the middle of the Gritch District, the most dangerous part of New Oxford.
Danger? For me right now, that word was irrelevant. There was nowhere I could tread without it following.
I turned, scanning the cold, still apartment behind me, ice creeping through my veins. I was alone, the space within designed by the best with descriptors like velvet, hand carved, marble, and leather. I'd let them get on with it. Now the space felt too big.
The mirror hanging across the open concept room reflected the duchess back at me. Tonight, my hair was sleek and dark, my lips a rich red. I held myself well. To the world, I was the ideal omega in every way but one, and, because of that, the only value I offered was when I was hanging from a muscular arm.
My phone buzzed.
I was out of time to decide; the text was from the company providing my ride, and they were here. Truthfully, I knew already what I was going to do; I’d taken the scent dampeners five minutes ago. A double dose, in fact, because I knew nothing of this pack, and I wouldn’t risk them discovering what I was to them until I had more information. The dampeners were strong enough to hide something as potent as a scent match—but they’d only last a few hours. That was fine. I would be in and out.
I took a steadying breath. Even if they didn’t know who I was, what I was about to do was dangerous. I hugged my purse close to my side, fingers rubbing together the interior silk to settle my heart as I left the space that no longer felt like home.
When I reached the lobby, I scanned the space for my bodyguard, Devin, a reaction of pure instinct, before I remembered.
My stomach dropped like a stone, my blood chilling.
He’d been on my payroll that night a month ago. I was with trusted company, and so I told him to go outside for a break—I knew the stress he was under. He was a single father, navigating the minefield of new information after his daughter had just perfumed as an omega. But then it had all gone wrong.
Dead…
Jumped outside the bar…
A random murder…
Except, I knew differently.
Me and Devin had been downtown last year when he’d noticed he was missing his earring. I’d laughed and given him one of mine—a golden stud. Only, he’d never taken it off. But the night after he died, I opened my jewellery box in my bedroom and found that very same earring waiting next to its pair.
I’d been called to identify his body, and sure enough, his piercing was missing. It wasn’t enough of anything for the police.
But I knew.
I’d been alone since, too scared to hire another bodyguard.
And that had just been the beginning.
I hurried through the lobby, not meeting anyone’s eyes and trying to forget how much I missed Devin striding quietly at my side. Mist hung in the night air as I stepped onto the street. Instantly, the jitter in my heart settled, and I found myself brushing the tattoo on my forearm. It was a delicate depiction of a flower, a forget-me-not taunting me with its irony for what I was missing.
I took another deep breath, inhaling the cool evening mist. With each second that passed, my fear settled. Nothing in the world could soothe my heart like the scent of icy mist.
There was only one way to tell if mates were more dangerous than the threat I was fleeing. I had a lie concocted and a fool’s plan.
Tonight, I would meet them myself.
TWO
King
The doorbell rang.
That was odd. No one used the doorbell.
I got up from the couch, not missing the look of confusion on Malakai’s face as I took the three steps to the hall and made for the front door.
It was Saturday evening and we were only expecting one guest, but Riot certainly didn’t use the doorbell.
Or did he? Maybe to off-balance us? Seemed a little unnecessary for a man like him. I opened the door to a woman who looked a million miles from home.
“Uh…” I stared at her, losing my words for a moment. My mind was reeling. She… was captivating.
She had on a dark trench coat and heeled boots. Glossy brown hair was tucked behind her ears and covered with a black woollen hat. She had a large, jade purse clasped in her hands, and I could see a folder sticking out of the top of it.
It was her eyes that caught me, though. Bright sapphires that held mine with confidence as she smiled, removing a glove and holding a dainty hand out.
“Veronica Smith,” she said. “I’m here for a building inspection.”
I stared at her, eyebrow raised. There was no way. The perfect nails and the general… put-togetherness of her just didn’t quite scream building inspector to me.
She was a beta, I thought, though I couldn’t scent much on her at all. It wasn’t unusual for even betas to use scent dampeners on this side of town, though.
“At this time?” I asked, trying to pull myself together. I felt like I was free falling into those sapphire eyes with their much too alluring lashes.
