Page 9 of Knot the One They Want

We take our seats, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. The first course is served, a delicate soup I can barely taste. I'm too busy trying to get a read on the pack, on the men who may very well hold my future in their hands.

But they're a closed book, their faces carefully blank as they make polite conversation with my father and Carl like I don't exist. I'm used to that, considering omegas in the upper echelons of society are supposed to be "seen and not heard", but it's usually not quite this bad. What I'm not used to is not being able to ignore them in return with their scents screaming at me for attention and their demeanor screaming to get lost. It's not until the main course is served that Damien turns his attention to me.

"So, Evangeline," he says, his voice smooth as silk. "What exactly do you intend to do with yourself if you become a part of our pack?"

I blink, taken aback by the bluntness of his question. Around the table, everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats.

Seriously? We've barely made it through the soup, and he's already interrogating me about my plans for the future after ignoring me until now?

My nose has to be lying about this guy, because his attitude fucking stinks.

But I refuse to be cowed. I meet his gaze head-on, a deceptively sweet smile playing at my lips. One of the first things they teach us in finishing school is how to smile when an alpha is being an asshole. And apparently, that's the default state for most of them.

"Well, I think I bring more than enough to the table by simple virtue of being an omega," I say, my voice saccharine. "Unless, of course, you and your fellow alphas have figured out a way to birth your own children and manage your ruts."

Damien chokes on his wine, his eyes widening in shock. Beside him, the twins exchange a glance, their lips twitching with barely suppressed laughter. Asher laughs, the sound rich and warm. It sends tingles down my spine, and I resent them immediately.

An omega can't be blamed for responding to an alpha's bark, or his purr, but a laugh isn't supposed to have me in danger of getting slick at the dinner table and under the stern, watchful eyes of all the Blackwood family portraits lining the grand dining room.

"Evangeline!" My father looks mortified, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. Even Vivienne seems like she wants to sink beneath the table and never come back out.

Good riddance.

But I keep my gaze locked on Damien, daring him to challenge me.

He clears his throat, crushing the cloth napkin in his left hand. "No, I can't say that we have," he says, his tone as dry as bone. "Nonetheless, the pack is quite busy. I simply want to ensure that you have something to occupy your time while we attend to our duties."

Translation:I want to make sure you're not going to be a clingy, needy omega who demands too much of our attention.

It's a red flag, a glaring warning sign that this pack may not be all that they seem. But I'm not about to let Damien see me sweat.

"As I mentioned to your father whenhecame to visit, I work with Safe Haven," I say pointedly, my voice calm and even. "It's an inter-coalition organization dedicated to providing shelter and support for people of all designations who have lost their packs. I'm sure I could easily transfer to the Safe Haven branch inyoursuperpack."

Damien's brow furrows, confusion flitting across his chiseled features. "I'm afraid we don't have a Safe Haven branch in our superpack."

Bingo.

I widen my eyes, feigning surprise as I press a hand to my décolleté. "You don't? Well, then. It looks like I'll be busy getting one up and running. I guess you won't have to worry about me having too much free time on my hands after all."

Damien's jaw clenches, a muscle ticking in his cheek. Beside him, the twins exchange another glance, something unreadable passing between them. Asher's smirk widens, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement.

Take that, you arrogant ass.

The rest of the dinner passes in a blur of forced politeness and thinly veiled barbs. By the time we're saying our goodbyes,my head is spinning and my nerves are frayed. I'm exhausted from the constant back and forth all evening of my nose drawing me closer to the Blackwood pack and my common sense telling me to put as much distance between us as possible.

But as I slide into the backseat of the limo, I can't help but feel a small thrill of victory. I may have walked into the lion's den, but I'll be damned if I let them eat me alive.

Bring it on, Blackwood pack. I'm ready for whatever you throw my way.

The drive home is silent, the tension from dinner still hanging heavy in the air. Vivienne keeps shooting me dirty looks, no doubt itching to tear into me for my "unladylike" behavior. But I don't give her the satisfaction, keeping my gaze trained out the window as the city lights blur past.

It was clear from one look in Damien Blackwood's eyes he wasn't interested in taking me as an omega, so why should I spend all evening kissing up to him? He's clearly got enough people doing that.

For a moment, I had hoped we would have a moment alone. A moment to discuss the whole scent thing, but how would that eve have gone? What was I supposed to say? "Sorry, I know you four clearly don't want me here, but I can't help but notice you smell like my forever"?

Yeah, no thanks.

Besides, I have to be mistaken. And the first chance I get, I'm scheduling a doctor's appointment to either get my nose checked or switch prescriptions for my suppressants, because one of the two has very clearly failed me tonight.

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