Knot the One They Want (Claimverse Book 1)

I strain 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 feminine outfits, 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 the alpha-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 looks and acts 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?’

‘Potential new pack,’ I remind her. ‘Anyway, Damien is the heir apparent to Blackwood Enterprises. Please tell 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 this huge musical dynasty. He’s an absolute genius, and he’s drop-dead gorgeous, too, obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ Addison says wryly. ‘Do you even like classical music?’

‘Please, I only listen to classical music when I’m plotting revenge on my enemies,’ I inform her, fussing with my curls. ‘But like I said, he’s insanely hot. Even if I don’t like his music, I can still appreciate him with my other four senses.’

She rolls her eyes, her arms folded as she leans against the wall. ‘Silly me. Do carry on.’

‘Then there are the twins,’ I say, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Cole and Lake Davenport.’

‘Twins, huh?’ She cocks an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, but they’re polar opposites,’ I tell her. ‘Cole is this hot, badass MMA fighter who’s won six world titles, and his brother is a brilliant painter. Total brooding artist type,’ I say with a wistful sigh.

‘I’ve gotta admit, that’s an impressive bunch,’ Addison muses. ‘And you found all this out through peering in their bedroom windows?’

I lob a makeup sponge that Addison skillfully snatches out of the air before it can hit her between the eyes. She cackles.

‘Not funny,’ I grumble.

‘I’m just teasing,’ she says, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes that keeps me from being too miffed. Then she grows somber. ‘But you know, just because they’re successful and hot, that doesn’t mean they’re right for you.’

I shrug, fiddling with a tube of lip gloss. ‘Maybe not. But at least they’ll be interesting. Not like those boring, stuffy trust fund alphas Dad usually picks. Then there was the one led by some creepy old dude who kept staring at my boobs.’

Addison gives me a sympathetic grimace. ‘No argument there.’

I’m twenty-two in an age when most omegas are already matched by eighteen, twenty at the most, so Dad is getting antsy. Every time I turn down another pack, he huffs like he’s trying to blow down a few little piggies’ vacation home.

I think it’s complete BS that I’m expected to chart out my entire future a mere year after I turned twenty-one, but that’s just the way things are. Especially when I’m the family outsider.

Addison sets down the eyeliner and spins my chair so I’m facing her directly. Her expression softens. ‘Evie… I just want you to be happy. To find a pack that cherishes you for who you are, not how good you’ll look on their arms at events. You deserve that.’

I bite my lip, touched by her concern even as I brush it off with a small laugh. ‘Not everyone can be a cool musician who doesn’t care about finding a pack, Addie. Some of us need that belonging, that… family.’

I may not be willing to settle for just any pack who comes calling, but I’m just as eager to get out of the house as Dad and Vivienne are to get rid of me. As much as I’ll miss my younger siblings—well, I’ll miss Lily and Jasper at least—it’s been clear since Dad and Vivienne’s wedding that I’m the extra Beaumont. The one remnant of the past getting in the way of their perfect family.

Now, I finally have the chance to start my own. To find a pack of my own, alphas who will love and cherish me.

Who want me.

‘You are cool, Ev. I wish you saw that.’ She smiles sadly and tweaks my nose. ‘Just… don’t settle, okay? Promise me. No matter how famous or rich or whatever they are, if they’re assholes, you tell them to take a hike.’

‘I promise.’ I grasp her hands and squeeze. Addison always knows just what to say. She sees past the perfect omega facade to the real me. The hopeless romantic behind the socialite smile. ‘But you know, I’m gonna run out of vetoes eventually, so I need to make sure I don’t just get stuck with whoever Dad picks for me.’

‘Yeah, thanks to that bitch ruining your coming out party,’ Addison mutters.

‘You know what Mrs. Lawton from charm school would say about you using that word,’ I say in a wry tone.

She snorts. “Fuck charm school, and Mrs. Lawton was the biggest bitch of them all.”

I snicker in spite of myself. She’s not wrong. About Mrs. Lawton or my stepmother ruining my big debut into society.

When I think back to that night, on the eve of my eighteenth birthday, I still cringe.

It was the night I’d been looking forward to for as long as I could remember. And considering the fact that my favorite stories Mom told usually revolved around her own coming of age party, it felt like my chance to finally feel close to her again. To make her proud.

Every detail was perfect, and the whole night would have been, if it wasn’t for Vivienne’s histrionics. It seems her mystery illness, which had never manifested a day before or a day since, chose the exact moment of my debut to strike.

One moment, she was slinging back mimosas—which she swears to this day had absolutely nothing to do with said mystery illness—and the next, she was on the floor writhing and moaning, resulting in the whole place swarming with paramedics and the night ultimately being canceled.

Conveniently, she was completely fine by the time they made it to the hospital and ran every test in the book only to confirm there was absolutely nothing wrong with her.

Nothing more than a case of ‘my stepdaughter is in the spotlight and not me,’ of course.

After that, it was one long string of excuses for why it wasn’t a good time for me to debut again. Jasper has a game, Lily has a recital, Tristan is taking his finals.

Eventually, it was put off for so long that the bids from alpha packs asking for my hand started rolling in anyway, debut or no, and my father insisted it would be an embarrassment to revisit the matter. And ‘pointless,’ since it clearly wasn’t hurting my prospects.

Easy for him to say. An alpha lives his whole life in the spotlight, but there are few occasions in an omega’s life just for her.

Vivienne might have ruined my debut, but even she can’t stop me from enjoying my future mating ceremony. And now I know to make sure no one serves her a single drop of alcohol when the time comes.

A sharp rap at the door startles me from my reminiscing. I smooth my dress and take a deep breath, plastering on my most winning smile before swinging it open.

My half-brother, Tristan, fills the doorway with his broad shoulders and cocky grin. His chestnut hair is artfully tousled, falling into a face that probably has all the omegas at his college swooning.

If only they knew the real Tristan.

‘They’re ready for you downstairs,’ he informs me, his eyes flicking past my shoulder to land on Addison. I don’t miss the way his gaze lingers, a flicker of longing in those hazel depths.

Too bad, so sad. Addison has made it abundantly clear she’d rather make out with a cactus than give him the time of day.

‘Thanks,’ I say breezily, turning to Addison. She pulls me into a tight hug, the scent of her suppressant, something dark and spicy, enveloping me.

‘Remember,’ she whispers fiercely in my ear. ‘Don’t settle. No matter what.’

‘I won’t,’ I promise, giving her a final squeeze before pulling back. I square my shoulders and head for the stairs, passing Lily in the hallway.

‘What’s the scoop, Scrap?’ I ask under my breath.

She wrinkles her nose. ‘He’s old.’

I falter, blinking rapidly. Old? That can’t be right. The Blackwood pack are all in their twenties. Lily must have misheard.

I descend the stairs, my heels sinking into the plush carpet runner. The murmur of voices grows louder as I approach the living room. I pause in the doorway, my gaze sweeping the room.

My father and Vivienne sit on the loveseat, glasses of amber liquid in hand. And across from them, in the wingback chair…

Is a lone alpha male who is most definitely not one of the Blackwood boys.

He’s handsome, with steel-gray hair and a chiseled jaw, but he has to be in his late fifties at least. Confusion swirls through me. Where is the rest of the pack?

‘Ah, Evangeline,’ my father says in a warm tone he reserves for when there’s company around—unless he’s talking to one of my siblings—standing from his seat. He beckons me forward. ‘Come in, come in. I’d like you to meet Carl Blackwood.’

Carl Blackwood? As in the patriarch of the Blackwood family? My heart sinks into my kitten heels as I step into the room, dipping into a practiced curtsy. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Blackwood.’

‘The pleasure is all mine,’ he says, rising to his feet. He takes my hand, his palm dry and cool against my skin as he brushes a kiss across my knuckles. ‘I must say, you’re even lovelier than your reputation suggests.’ He releases my hand and gestures to the empty armchair beside him. ‘Please, have a seat.’

I perch on the edge of the chair, hands folded primly in my lap. Vivienne takes a sip of her drink, her critical gaze raking over my outfit. I brace myself for a cutting remark about my curves not fitting into the latest fashion, but mercifully, she stays silent.

For now.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Blackwood,’ I say, focusing on Carl. ‘I have to admit, I’m a bit surprised. I was under the impression I’d be meeting with the pack.’

‘All in good time,’ he assures me with a chuckle. ‘I wanted to meet the young lady who’s been shrouded in such mystery first. Your father mentioned you never had an official coming out, which I found… intriguing.’

My cheeks heat and I shoot a glance at Dad, who shifts uncomfortably. ‘Yes, well, it was most unfortunate timing,’ he says. ‘My wife took ill the night of the event.’

Carl tsks sympathetically. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that. I do hope she’s recovered now?’ He glances at Vivienne with what seems like genuine concern.

‘Oh yes,’ I say, my voice saccharine. ‘It was the most miraculous recovery, seeing as she was right as rain the very same evening.’

Vivienne’s eyes narrow to slits and I feel the heat of her glare. But I keep my gaze locked on Carl, my polite smile unwavering.

Carl waves a dismissive hand. ‘It’s good to hear she recovered so quickly. These things happen.’ He turns his piercing blue gaze on me, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. ‘Now, Evangeline. I’ve heard you’ve turned down quite a few packs vying for your hand already. A young omega as lovely as yourself must have high standards.’

I can practically feel the waves of disapproval radiating off my father and Vivienne at the reminder, but I keep my focus on Carl, giving a coy tilt of my head. ‘Well, what kind of example would it set for my younger siblings if I just accepted the first alpha who came calling? I want them to know their worth.’

Carl chuckles, a deep, resonant sound. ‘Touché, my dear. Touché.’ He leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. ‘Tell me about yourself, Evangeline. What are your interests? Your passions?’

I sit a bit straighter, a genuine smile curving my lips. It’s rare an alpha asks about me and not just my lineage or domestic skills. ‘Well, I’m quite passionate about baking and fashion. I love experimenting with new recipes and styles. And I adore romance novels, of course.’

‘Of course,’ he says with an indulgent smile. ‘A romantic at heart, I see.’

I smile. ‘Guilty as charged. And of course, I try to give back to my coalition with my work at Safe Haven.’

‘Safe Haven?’ he echoes curiously.

‘It’s an inter-coalition organization that helps people of all designations who need to leave their packs,” I explain. ‘We help with everything from getting them out of the situation to setting them up with a furnished apartment, food, clothes, and providing a support network to rebuild their lives.’

Vivienne rolls her eyes as I speak, but my father and Carl don’t notice. She’s made no secret she thinks my work is a waste of time. If it’s not a big gaudy fundraiser she can wear a new dress to and show off to her friends, she’s not interested.

Carl nods, seeming pleased. ‘That sounds like an admirable cause to be involved with at such a young age. I think you would make an excellent match for my son’s pack, Evangeline. They could use a sweet, levelheaded omega like you to balance them out.’

My brows furrow slightly. Talk about a verbal red flag. ‘That’s unfortunate,’ I say, tilting my head. ‘Considering they couldn’t be bothered to come meet me themselves.’

‘Evangeline!’ my father scolds, his eyes flashing with warning. ‘Mind your manners.’

But Carl holds up a hand. ‘No, Charles, she’s quite right. If it were my daughter, I would expect nothing less.’ He turns to me, his expression contrite. ‘I apologize for my son and his packmates’ absence, my dear. They are… a unique bunch, with demanding careers that keep them frightfully busy. But I assure you, they are eager to make your acquaintance.’

I arch a brow. ‘And do they really have time for an omega, with such demanding lives?’

Carl’s smile widens, approval sparking in his gaze. ‘A valid question. I’m sure if you agree to meet them, they can put your concerns to rest.’ He glances at my father and Vivienne. ‘Perhaps we could arrange a dinner? At the Blackwood estate, of course.’

Vivienne nearly chokes on her drink. ‘You’re… making a formal request? For Evangeline?’

I barely resist the urge to roll my eyes. Don’t sound so shocked, Viv.

Carl inclines his head. ‘It’s only proper that Evangeline meets the pack before any official requests are made. But yes, I am inviting you all to join us for dinner next week.’ His gaze finds mine, a challenge in those cool blue depths. ‘If Evangeline is amenable, of course.’

My father is practically vibrating with barely contained excitement beside Vivienne. I can feel the weight of his expectant stare.

I swallow my bitterness at the reminder of how eager he is to get rid of me and paste on my most dazzling smile. ‘I can’t wait.’

But even as the words leave my glossed lips, a tendril of unease curls in my stomach. The Blackwood pack is everything I’ve been dreaming of. Handsome, successful, dynamic.

So why do I suddenly feel like I’m about to step into the wolf’s den?