Page 6 of Ready or Knot

I take another sip of whiskey, closing my eyes and focusing on the burn of the alcohol down my throat. I hate these goddamn parties.

“Holy shit, I actually owe you. What the hell?” Carter complains, and I look over at him, managing to smirk a bit. He digs his wallet out and pulls the bills, scowling at me as I pluck them from his fingers.

I flick a quick glance at the table before focusing on the rest of the whiskey in my snifter. A waiter walks through the edge of the crowd, a half full tray in one hand, and I signal to him with my empty glass. It takes a bit to navigate the space between us, but he’s nice enough about taking the empty drink from me, and I hand him the money I won from Carter. His eyes widen before he shuts it down and thanks me while turning to walk the perimeter again.

“Shit, man. He might have actually found one this time,” Carter says a few minutes later.

My eyes snap back to the table. The woman in green leans into the other, hand grabbing her elbow, and says something. The redhead smiles and nods, holding up her small purse. A moment later, the woman leaves the table and starts to wander through the crowd. Logan takes the opportunity to move closer to the woman I’d noticed, his hands still in his pockets.

“Think he’s drawing it out just to torture me?” I ask. We always let Logan pick the first woman we talk to at each of these. He’s younger, more outgoing than me, and is more into pop culture than Carter. But he’s been standing with her for nearly five minutes without giving us any kind of signal. Carter rolls his eyes.

“This seems different, J. Logan doesn’t fuck around at these, remember? If he didn’t see something, he’d move on and let us pick someone out. Give him a bit longer.”

I know Carter’s right. But the reality is that I’m going to need another whiskey if he takes much longer, and the Council restricts everyone to one alcoholic drink at these things. Which, for what it’s worth, is perfectly reasonable—admirable, even. They don’t want inebriation to factor into their placements.

Too bad my nerves are already stretched thin.

The woman turns into Logan and drops her hand from her drink, resting it on the table top. He doesn’t miss a beat, mirroring her movement as he says something to her. She glances around, and he gestures towards where we’re standing. Her gaze looks across the crowd without pausing, and then she turns back to him. She smiles, and my throat closes.

Fuck. When was the last time I was actually nervous about talking to a woman? Over a decade, I’m pretty sure.

Logan taps his finger on the table twice, his eyes flicking towards us before returning to the woman across from him. Carter raises an eyebrow as he looks at me, and I blow out a breath.

Showtime.

Three

FAEDRA

“Pretty big party. Is this what you’d dreamt it would be?” a man asks, stepping up to our table, his voice smooth with just enough bite to make my fingers tingle.

The man’s hands are in his pockets, bow tie impeccable, a red pin labeled Bennett on his lapel. His sandy blonde hair is more unkempt than I’d expect at this kind of function, and I find it intriguing. Was it intentional? Or had it been styled and then ruined by running his hands through it?

Violet answers easily, “Yes.”

He smiles and then looks at me, his blue eyes raking over my dress. “And you?”

“I’m not sure what I thought it would be, but it’s certainly big,” I answer, the truth falling out of me before I have the sense to come up with something witty or demure. He chuckles and takes a step towards me while his gaze coasts over the table between us. His eyebrows raise even as he grins.

“Please tell me that’s an actual Moscow Mule and not just a bartender too lazy to grab a fresh glass for a daiquiri.”

I can’t help but laugh, my hand tightening on the copper mug. “It’s an actual one. They’re my guilty pleasure.”

He nods, his gaze intense on me, and I feel my chest darken with a blush. “I’m Logan,” he offers after a moment. Violet gives a one-sided smile, leaning into the table a bit more.

“I’m Violet,” she offers, looking at me.

“Faedra,” I say, playing with my piercings Logan’s eyes are sharp, watching the movement with an intensity that makes my thighs clench. My question is breathless. “Where’s the rest of your pack?”

“Around,” he offers, shrugging a shoulder, not deterred by my reaction to him. “They’re not as outgoing as I am. I’m sure they’re trying to stretch their one glass of whiskey until I manage to convince them to come mingle.”

“Honestly? Same.”

Violet huffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re ridiculous, Fae. I just had to talk you down from trying to go find that Alpha that struck your interest.”

I shrug, blushing when Logan quirks an eyebrow.

“It’s nothing,” I manage to say, and Violet laughs. I shoot her a glare. “It isn’t. The whole point of the Council putting together these damn things is to match us up with packs. Why not make the first move?”

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