Page 13 of Knot the One They Want

"To fighting fate," he says bitterly, raising his glass in a mockery of a toast.

I take a drink anyway, returning his glare. The whiskey burns as it goes down, a fire in my throat to match the one in my veins. It tastes like desperation and defeat, like the ashes of a future that's been wrenched from my grasp.

But it also tastes like revenge. Like the bitter satisfaction of knowing that if I can't have what I want, neither can the omega who's been foisted on us—both by my father and the universe.Evangeline may have won this battle, but the war is far from over.

And I intend to make her rue the day she ever crossed paths with the Blackwood Pack.

CHAPTER 5

EVIE

"Ow, Evie, you're pulling too hard!" Lily whines as I attempt to tame her wild curls into a French braid.

"Sorry, Scrap. I'm almost done." I twist another section, trying to focus on not yanking my little sister's hair out. Braiding when I'm already wound tight was probably not the best idea, but she's got cheer practice and she begged me to.

"Is it true you're going to marry one of the Blackwood alphas?" Lily asks, her voice full of innocent curiosity.

My hands freeze mid-braid. In the aftermath of that awful, awkward dinner I've almost managed to successfully convince myself I imagined the whole scent matching thing. That the scents that seemed so heavenly at the moment were nothing more than the malfunctioning suppressants my doctor switched me off of in favor of others that have at least successfully dampenedallmy senses. It helps that I've retroactively assigned different scents to each of them to replace the ones from my memory.

Damien's is motor oil. Acrid and slimy, just like the rich bastard himself.

Lake and Cole are hot sauce and pepper. Too pungent and unappealing.

And Asher? He's not sunlight anymore. He's dog piss.

Yep. That'll dampen the fantasies my mind tries to torment me with when I replay that tension-filled meeting in my sleep.

If only. It's far from an effective coping strategy, but it's the only one I've got. "Where did you hear that?" I ask warily, glancing at Lily's reflection.

She shrugs. "I heard Mom and Dad talking. They said it would be good for the family."

Of course they did. My future, decided without my input, as usual. I force a smile. "Nothing's set in stone yet. But if it happens, you'll be the first to know."

And I'll be the first to throw up.

Sure, the Blackwood pack is easily the most eligible out of all the packs who've asked for my hand, but I was out the moment those assholes couldn't even be bothered to show up on time for dinner. They made it clear how little they value my time, so why the hell would that change once they have me at their mercy?

Alphas might take one look at me and see a dumb blonde, but I'm smart enough to know an omega's never holding more power in her hands than when she's in the selection process of choosing a mate. And I've worked with enough omegas through Safe Harbor to know exactly what can go wrong if I make the wrong choice.

And then there are the omegas who don't get to choose at all…

Even a scent match isn't enough to guarantee a happily ever after for some omegas. And that's including the ones whose alphas don't act like they smell like day old cod in return.

The doorbell chimes and Tristan's footsteps pound down the hallway. Lily squirms in her seat, the braid forgotten. "Ooh, I wonder who it is! Maybe one of your new boyfriends?" she asks with a mischievous grin.

I roll my eyes, but curiosity gets the better of me too. I tie off Lily's hair with an elastic and we tiptoe to the foyer. Tristan is already at the door, signing for a large cream envelope embossed with an ornate wax seal. My heart skips a beat. I'd know that seal anywhere.

The Blackwood pack crest.

"Tristan, give me that," Vivienne commands, reaching for the envelope.

He holds it out of reach, a glint in his eye. "Sorry Mom, messenger's orders. For Dad's eyes only."

Vivienne's mouth tightens. Before she can argue, Dad strides in, his presence alone commanding the room. "What's this about?"

"Delivery for you." Tristan hands over the envelope with an unnecessary flourish.

Dad breaks the seal and scans the contents, his brow furrowing. Vivienne hovers at his elbow. "Well? What is it, Charles?" she asks impatiently.

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