Page 1 of Knot the One They Want

CHAPTER 1

EVIE

Istrain my ears, trying to catch snippets of the conversation floating up from downstairs through the vent in my floor. The low rumble of alpha voices discussing my future sets my nerves on edge. I bend down and lean closer to the vent, holding my breath.

"Evie, stop it! You're going to ruin your hair crawling around down there," my best friend, Addison scolds, grabbing my arm and pulling me back toward the vanity. "Sit. I need to finish your eyeliner."

I sigh dramatically but let her guide me into the plush chair. "I just want to know what they're saying! This is important, Addie."

"More important than looking your best?" She arches a perfect brow at me in the mirror.

Damn it, she knows how to keep me in line.

I give her a half-hearted pout, but close my eyes obediently. The soft brush tickles my lashline as Addison works her magic. We may have drastically different styles, Addie with her split black-and-pink hair shorn into a stylish bob and goth-adjacent makeup, and me with my long, blonde curls and feminineoutfits, but she's the only one I trust to help me get ready for a big occasion like tonight.

And I have to admit, she's better at doing my makeup than I am. My hair falls in silken waves of light gold over my bare shoulders, and the neutral eyeshadow she applied flawlessly makes my light blue eyes stand out. She kept the foundation light enough to let the smattering of freckles across my nose stand out. My lashes are curled, my lips painted a light mauve, liner enhancing the full curve of my pout.

My outfit is equally put together, an off-shoulder yellow-and-white floral sundress that makes me feel feminine and whimsical, paired with short, tasteful kitten heels. The dress hugs my curves rather than hiding them. I don't have time for any pack who'd turn their nose up at an omega with a little meat on her bones.

Been there, lost sleep over those fuckboys enough times. I'm over it.

"You know, if you ever decide being a world famous musician isn't for you, you'd make a killing doing makeup," I tell her, fluffing out my curls.

Addie beams in the mirror, her dark blue painted lips splitting into a big grin. "I'll keep that in mind."

My younger sister, Lily, snickers from where she's playing dress-up with my accessories, most of which are scattered around the room like a bomb went off in a clothing store, draping herself in my silk scarves and jewelry. I kind of went overboard making sure my outfit was perfect, but it's a special occasion.

The special occasion of special occasions.

"I don't get why you care about this pack anyway," Addison says, tilting my chin up to check her handiwork. "You've hated all the others your dad tried to set you up with."

"This one's different," I insist, opening my eyes to meet her skeptical gaze in the reflection. "I know you're an anti-socialite, but anyone who isn't living under a rock has heard of the Blackwood Pack."

"Yeah, packs really aren't my area of expertise," she says dryly. "Enlighten me."

"Okay," I say excitedly, swinging my legs to face her, my hands scrunching my dress in my lap. I'm ninety-nine-percent sure she's being sarcastic, but it's her fault for taking that risk and giving me a chance to gush. "So first, there's Damien Blackwood, obviously. He's thealpha-alpha. He's gorgeous, with this glossy black hair and baby blues that could get an omega pregnant from a single glance."

"Ew," Lily mutters, reminding me she's in the room as she pulls one of my hats down over her mop of red curls. She's the spitting image of her mom, the omega my father married a whole six months after he buried my mother, but unlike Vivienne, Lily looksandacts like an angel.

Most of the time.

"Out, Scrap," I say, pointing my French-tipped index finger at the door. "This is adult talk."

"I'm not little," she grumbles, tossing the hat on my bed.

"If you listen in and report back what they're saying, I'll let you have my new purple boots," I tell her.

Her brown eyes grow as wide as saucers and she bolts for the door. "Deal!"

"Don't get caught," I call after her in a harsh whisper.

Addie pushes the door shut, shaking her head. "Okay, you were telling me about the supposed virality of your new pack?"

"Potentialnew pack," I remind her. "Anyway, Damien is the heir apparent to Blackwood Enterprises.Pleasetell me you've heard of them."

"Unfortunately," she quips. "Pretty sure they made my guitar strings."

"Probably. They make almost everything or own a company that does," I admit. "Then there's Asher Caldwell, who's a world famous violinist from thishugemusical dynasty. He's an absolute genius, and he's drop-dead gorgeous, too, obviously."

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