Knotty Boy

By Teddy Henley

Human for Hire, the advert says. Alphas! Always wanted to knot but don't want to deal with the omega bond? Look no further! Experienced human available for bond-free knotting. Good rates. Discretion guaranteed. Full satisfaction or money returned! 

Three years, and Noah's never developed anything even remotely close to romantic feelings for a client. Three years. And then Dean—shy Alpha werewolf struggling through exquisitely desperate heat cycles—comes along to tip up his world…

*Knotty Boy was previously published as Human for Hire*

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teddy Henley
• Release date: Feb 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386633938

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Human for Hire, the advert says. Alphas! Always wanted to knot but don’t want to deal with the omega bond? Look no further! Experienced human available for bond-free knotting. Good rates. Discretion guaranteed. Full satisfaction or money returned!

Well.

Dean ponders on it for a good...seven minutes, at least.

And then he opens up his email and hires himself a human to knot.

* * * * *

All Alphas feel the urge to knot. To mate. To claim.

It’s a primal instinct—buried deep in the Alpha’s body, the overwhelming want of feeling closer to that person than should be possible, all sensations zeroed in on the need to claim, to possess, to join together and become one. The urge, the consuming desperation, is enough to drive even the sanest mind to the edge if left unchecked, and sure, there are devices now, weird rubbery instruments designed to replicate, but Dean’s never used one without an ending of extreme dissatisfaction.

But it’s hard to have a knotting without a bond. The two go hand in hand. It’s an emotional thing, knotting. It pulls on the soul. Soon as you knot someone—an omega usually, but sometimes a willing beta—you become connected. There’s no getting away from it.

Dean really doesn’t have time for a bond.

But this human—he promises bond-free knotting. He promises satisfaction.

Fuck, Dean can’t even put into words how much he’s so very desperate to push his knot into someone’s hole. His fist stopped sating his need a long time ago, and those toys—well, they’re a joke. But humans—they don’t feel the bond like omegas and betas do, but neither can they take the knot, not really. Not without the agonizing pain of having something so thick and hard splitting them open. Human assholes—not designed for Alpha dick, and especially not for Alpha knot.

Dean tried to fuck a human the grand total of once. The guy took his dick and seemed to enjoy getting pounded but the knot only made it in a tenth of the way before he was screaming stop, and Dean did stop, of course he did. Stopped instantly. And that was that. He’s never tried again, not with a human. And he doesn’t have time for an omega bond.

And now this advert.

Experienced human available.

Available to take Dean’s knot.

He’ll pay double if he has to.

CHAPTER ONE

Noah takes a sip of his coffee and watches the door, straightening every time someone male walks through it. The guy’s running late, and Noah is starting to think that maybe nerves have gotten the better of him. It can’t be easy, coming to this kind of consultation, even if Noah always tries to make it as relaxed as possible—usually in a café or cosy restaurant, dressed smart but not stiff, daytime, easy smile...

But the meeting was scheduled for three-thirty and now it’s coming on for four and who’s thirty minutes late for a meeting without sending some kind of apology text?

He checks his phone, just to be sure, but nope. Nothing.

He’ll give it another ten minutes, and then—

And then nothing, because the guy walks in, so obviously an Alpha that he radiates it. And he’s...attractive. Which, of course he is. Alphas are attractive by nature, biologically designed to lure in omegas, especially in heat cycles. And that’s exactly why Noah is here, distinctly not an omega. A human, in fact, because fucking omegas during heat always runs the risk of accidental bonding and then...well. Might as well call yourself married. And who wants that these days?

But Alphas need to fuck someone during heat, or the burning itch of need that spreads through them can cause a loose screw or two. Enter Noah. Literally. Heh.

He’s a human, but he’s been offering himself up to Alphas in heat for a long time now, so he knows how to take it. Take it. An Alpha in heat is no joke, and not everyone can deal with that kind of...intensity. Only fellow werewolves, mostly, and seeing as that’s not really an option—well. Noah saw a business opportunity, and he ran with it.

Heat Solutions, his business is called, but he might as well trade under the name Knot Me, I Can Take It, because no one’s under any illusions here.

Including Mr. Attractive, who’s just walked through the door, now sort of hovering in the entryway, looking around, blocking a woman trying to get in with her two kids. Noah stands and lifts a hand to catch the guy’s attention, no doubt in his mind that this is his client. Some Alphas look like regular guys, albeit a little above average in the looks department, their non-human qualities only obvious if closely observed. But this guy, this Alpha, and other Alphas like him—he radiates it, almost like there’s a glow lining his frame, something that says strong and powerful and I could fuck you up.

Mr. Attractive—Dean, his email said—notices him and blinks, hesitates maybe, and okay, Noah is pretty good in the ego department, but he’s not sure if that hesitation means oh no or oh wow and his confidence kinda needs to know. Because this guy, in a regular situation, is way out of his league.

But this isn’t a regular situation, Noah reminds himself. This isn’t a date. This is an Alpha paying—hopefully—to use Noah’s body however he needs to in order to get through his heat with minimal psychological damage.

Noah pulls on the collar of his Henley and offers a smile as Dean, all six-foot-plus of him, negotiates his way through the busy café. He’s very wide, in that excessively broad shoulders and expansive chest sort of way, and Noah stares a little bit. He’s got a thing for a tight, muscled frame.

Dean reaches him, holds out his hand, looking nervous but concealing it. His dark eyes are wavering, struggling to hold contact, a faint red hue to the tops of his cheeks, and Noah gives the hand a shake before the guy can bottle it and run. The handshake’s firm and enveloping and Noah marvels, just for a moment, at how small his own hand looks in the embrace. Then he says, Hello, because he knows how to conduct himself, and releases the guy’s hand. I’m Noah.

Dean nods, straightens the cuff of his leather jacket, the tick in his jaw suggesting he’s trying to find some courage but Noah is too distracted by the sudden impulse to bite the sharp edge of that jawline like he’s forgotten all decorum.

Um, says Dean, and Noah smiles.

Let me get you a coffee.

Dean seems relieved by that—either at the prospect of caffeine or having a few moments alone to get his shit together, it’s hard to tell. But he gives a jerky nod and mutters something about a flat white and then he’s shrugging off his jacket, revealing a plain white tee and far too much bicep. Noah books it to the counter before he can stop and stare.

Five minutes later, he’s back at the