Page 22 of Knot All That Glitters: Part 2

I dip my chin to my chest and nod. “Okay.”

“That’s it?”

No, that’s not it. Again, I know I should be angry. Know I should rage against him and everything he’s doing to me, but I can’t bring myself to get worked up. I can’t bring myself to care.

It was foolish of me to think I could have more than what he deigns to give me. More than the life he planned out for me.

I tried to have something else and look where that got me. The Calloway pack. Being used as a fuck toy, a pawn in a game I didn’t know they were playing.

“Yes,” I say, looking away from him, wandering over to the window to stare out the new bars over them. “That’s it.”

A low chuckle. “If I had known how accommodating you’d become, I would have given you this medication years ago.”

Medication, he calls it, as though it’s for my health, for my wellbeing. Not drugs.

I don’t know what the hell it is, have never heard of a drug that does this before, numb and compliant, but I’m grateful he’s only discovered it recently. I have been wondering, though, where he found it, who created it.

“Did Atticus Calloway design my new medication?” I ask before I can think better of it. I want to know the answer and I can’t talk myself into the good sense to not mention the Calloway pack. Over the last two weeks, any mention of them has earned me a growled word or a smack to the face.

This time, he doesn’t do either of those. No smack to the face makes sense. If there’s a party he needs me to attend tonight, he can’t very well have me showing up with his handprint on my cheek or a split lip.

“Atticus? No, he’s not the only chemist I’ve been working with, though he is the most brilliant.” He pauses for a long moment. So long, in fact, that I look over my shoulder at him, to find him watching me with a gleam in his eye. “You know what he’s been helping me with, don’t you? A way to suppress the designations entirely. To stamp them out.”

I turn back to the window, watching as a small bird hops along the roof of the porch. “Yes, he told me about that.” He also told me he had no intention of completing his task. That he gives my father just enough to keep him interested, but not enough to do any actual harm.

He chuckles and I can see the headshake that goes along with it in my head. “You thought they would want you, didn’t you? That they would keep you. There’s a reason they don’t already have an omega, Haven. They don’t want one.”

That I do believe. If they wanted one, they’d have one by now. They’re all in their early thirties, ten years older than me, than most unbonded omegas. They’ve been a pack for fifteen years. If they wanted an omega, they would have found one years ago.

I was just foolish enough to think they’d been waiting for therightomega. And that the right omega was me.

“I’m aware,” I say, still watching that little bird outside, wishing like hell it was me. I’d fly far, far away and never look back.

“Good.” He takes a big self-important breath. “There will be a lot of important people at the party tonight, Haven. I expect you to conduct yourself with poise and class. I expect you to do as you are told.You will not embarrass me.Is that clear?”

“Yes,” I say again. “That is abundantly clear.”

Chapter 8

That’s Not My Life

My first foray into the word is overwhelming. I’ve spent the last few weeks in a bubble, first with the Calloway pack, tucked up in their house while they played some kind of sick game with me, and more recently entirely alone in my bedroom.

If I was operating with my normal range of emotions, I would be overstimulated and overwhelmed, seeking an escape a path to scurry away and hide.

It’s not possible to do that when you’re one of two guests of honor. Or three, if the way Frederick Bell is greeting the party goers is any sign. It may be an engagement party for me and Brian, but he is undoubtedly the star of the show in his mind. We’re just the supporting cast.

The party is taking place in a ballroom of a hotel I’ve never been to before. It’s nice, but not as nice as The Falcon, and I overheard the party planner, a harried looking man named Adrian, say my father had originally demanded the luxe hotel, but the Falcone pack had been unbending when they denied the request. Not surprising since Adrian somewhat gleefully informed the caterer the event spaces in The Falcon book out almost two years in advance.

I wonder if that’s true or if the Falcone pack simply didn’t want the anti-designation, anti-pack senator as a customer. I wouldn’t blame them if that is the case.

The space is pretty, if a little ostentatious and more my father’s style than my own. Of course, I’m not sure I would even have an engagement party given the chance to make any decisions in my life. But, alas, I don’t.

I barely spared the room a glance before Adrian positioned me right by the entrance, with Brian on one side and my father on the other, sandwiching me between them. I’m sure anyone who is watching would see it as a protective move, like I’m too precious to not have me safe between them.

But I’m sure it’s actually so they can both make sure I behave.

They should realize by now there isn’t a shred of disobedience in me. Even if I didn’t have the ‘medication’ in my veins, the ever lingering threat of retribution against Ren would be enough to make me behave.

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