Knot the One They Want (Claimverse Book 1)

The leather seats of the limo are buttery soft beneath my thighs, but they do little to soothe the nerves twisting in my stomach like a nest of vipers. I’m sitting in the back of the limo across from my father and Vivienne, and throughout the ride, the latter’s critical gaze has been raking over my outfit with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

‘I can’t believe you’re wearing that,’ she mutters, her perfectly painted lips curling in disdain.

I glance down at my vintage fit and flare dress, the rich blue fabric hugging my curves in all the right places. It’s a one-of-a-kind piece from my favorite designer, hand-stitched to my exact measurements. I chose it since the color brings out the azure of my eyes and contrasts with my golden curls.

‘It’s a custom piece,’ I say, meeting Vivienne’s icy stare head-on. ‘Made just for me.’

She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘Well, it’s clearly not made for someone of your… size.’

Ouch. I may be curvier than the average omega, but the way Vivienne talks, you’d think I was a living hot air balloon. Then again, in her eyes, anything short of a twenty-six inch waist is unacceptable.

I bite back the retort dancing on the tip of my tongue, knowing it’ll only earn me a lecture from my father about respecting my elders. As if Vivienne has ever respected me.

The limo pulls up to the Blackwood estate and my breath catches in my throat. The mansion is massive, dwarfing even my family’s sprawling home. It’s all towering ivy-laden walls and gleaming windows, like something out of a gothic romance novel.

Fitting, considering I’m about to walk into a den of wolves.

But I refuse to be intimidated. I know my worth. Even if everyone around me seems hellbent on convincing me to settle for less.

Well, everyone except Addison.

I touch the friendship bracelet encircling my wrist, the braided threads a tangible reminder of our bond. We made them at summer camp years ago, and they’ve been a talisman of strength that’s been with us both ever since.

My other hand drifts to the locket resting against my collarbone, the delicate gold chain cool against my skin. It’s the only thing I have left of my mother, the only piece of her Vivienne didn’t sell or pawn off on my half-siblings.

If she ever got her claws on it, she’d do the same damn thing.

The thought sends a flare of anger through me, hot and bright. But I tamp it down, schooling my features into a practiced mask of polite indifference as the driver opens the door.

I step out into the crisp evening air, the gravel crunching beneath my heels. My father and Vivienne follow suit, the latter smoothing down the skirt of her designer dress with a practiced hand.

We make our way up the front steps, where a butler greets us with a warm smile. He’s an older gentleman, with kind eyes and a grandfatherly air about him.

‘Welcome to the Blackwood family estate,’ he says, ushering us inside. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood are waiting for you in the dining room.’

Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood? I frown, confusion swirling through me. What about the pack?

But I don’t have time to dwell on it as we’re led through the foyer, our footsteps echoing on the marble floors. The dining room is just as grand as the rest of the house, with a long mahogany table that could easily seat twenty.

At the head of the table sits Carl, looking every inch the imposing alpha in a tailored suit. Beside him is a beautiful woman with dark hair and warm brown eyes, who I can only assume is his wife.

And across from them… are empty seats.

My father clears his throat, a flush creeping up his neck. ‘I apologize for the tardiness of my son’s pack,’ he says, his voice strained. ‘I’m sure they’ll be along any minute.’

Any minute, my ass. It’s clear from the pinched look on Carl’s face that this is not the first time the pack has kept him waiting.

But ever the gracious host, he gestures for us to sit.

‘No need to apologize, Carl,’ my father says, pulling out Vivienne’s chair. ‘I’m sure they’re just running a bit behind.’

I take my seat, smoothing my skirt beneath me. Vivienne sits to my left, while my father takes the chair to my right. The minutes tick by, the awkward silence broken only by the clink of silverware and the occasional attempt at small talk.

Just as I’m starting to wonder if the pack is going to show up at all, the dining room doors swing open.

And in walks Damien Blackwood, looking like sin incarnate in a black suit that fits him like a second skin. His dark hair is artfully tousled, and his blue eyes are cold as ice as they sweep over the room. But it’s when they land on me that all the breath rushes from my lungs.

I’m used to alphas looking at me admiringly. Even if it’s only my family’s money they covet. But one look in those not-so-baby blues and I feel like I’m staring down my mortal enemy and just don’t know it yet. Like somehow, I got into a time machine and went back to before this guy was even born and kicked his great-grandma in the shins. And her puppy, too.

What the hell?

Behind him are the twins, Cole and Lake. They’re both devastatingly handsome, with golden skin and chiseled features that belong on a billboard. Lake’s hair is light, and there’s a softness to his honeyed eyes that belies the hard planes of his face. Cole’s hair is jet black, and there’s a wildness in those stone gray eyes that makes me shiver.

And bringing up the rear is Asher, the world-renowned violinist. He’s all lean muscle and elegant lines, with golden hair that brushes the collar of his crisp white shirt. His hazel eyes dance with mischief as they meet mine, a smirk playing at the corners of his full lips.

I guess at least one of them doesn’t hate me at first sight for no reason.

Damn. They’re even hotter in person.

And apparently, Damien is crazy.

Hot and psycho.

Maybe I shouldn’t have turned down that pack full of accountants. Even if that one beta kept asking if he could see my feet.

Nope, I’ll actually take my chances with Gorgeous Psycho over Foot Beta any day, thank you very much.

It’s not just the appearances of the members of the Blackwood Pack that catches me off guard, though. It’s their scents. Even though they’re all standing relatively close together, I can make out each alpha’s scent individually.

Damien smells like leather and bourbon, a dark and intense but sinfully pleasant elixir that has me leaning forward instinctively, wanting to drift closer like an old-timey cartoon cat smelling a pie through an open window.

Lake smells like his namesake. Something cool and watery and deeply enticing. The scent makes me feel like I’m at the waterside, calm and tranquil, and all my anxiety vanishes. His brother’s scent is darker, spicier, with notes of cinnamon and forest. Like someone bottled all the scents of Fall, only it’s coming from him. There are no acrid notes of cologne to taint it.

Then there’s Asher. He smells like… sunlight. Like everything gold and bright and warm. Like I could close my eyes and just bask in the warmth coming off him. Like a gentle melody you can’t hear, but one that resonates deep within me all the same.

It’s all so intense and overwhelming, I find myself looking around the room to see if anyone else is equally affected, but they all seem to be just carrying on like business as usual.

I’ve been on suppressants ever since I presented as an omega, to make sure I don’t go into heat as an unmarked, unmated omega without a pack in sight. They have their drawbacks, but one benefit is that most alphas and even other omegas don’t really have that strong of a scent to me. It’s more noticeable than betas, but they fade into the background easily enough.

These alphas, though… it’s like seeing the world in shades of gray only to be treated to a full technicolor display all of a sudden. The contrast is that stark, that intense, that I can only come to one startling realization.

They’re my scent matches.

They have to be.

And yet… they’re not looking at me like I’m theirs. They’re not looking at me like four alphas who just had their whole world turned upside down. At least, not in a good way.

Am I losing my mind? Or maybe my suppressants are choosing the most inconvenient time to fail.

I’ve been on them longer than any omega is supposed to. Even though the doctor said it was safe, she warned there could be side effects. Maybe this is one of them.

It figures it would be tonight.

I shake my head to clear it and try to tune out those delicious scents emanating from the alphas across from me who are clearly not sharing the same experience.

Carl stands, a tight smile on his face. ‘Ah, gentlemen. So glad you could join us.’ He gestures to me and my family. ‘I’d like you to meet Charles and Vivienne Beaumont, and their lovely daughter, Evangeline.’

Damien’s gaze slides over me, cold and assessing. ‘Charmed,’ he says, his voice flat.

The twins nod in greeting, their expressions inscrutable. And Asher… Asher winks at me, the action so quick I almost miss it.

Talk about a four-way intersection of mixed signals.

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 when he came 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 in your superpack.’

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.

When we finally pull up to the house, I’m out of the car before it even comes to a full stop. I stalk up the front steps, my heels clicking against the stone.

I’m almost to my room when I hear Vivienne’s voice, low and venomous. ‘You’d better watch yourself, Evangeline. Those alphas are not to be trifled with.’

I pause, my hand on the doorknob. Slowly, I turn to face her, my lips curving into a razor-sharp smile. ‘Neither am I.’

She scoffs. ‘You may think that obstinance is cute now, but you’re running out of options. And your father’s patience.’

She turns and stalks off on her heels, and I let myself indulge in the childish urge to stick my tongue out at the bun wound as tightly as the rest of her while she retreats.

And with that, I slip into my room, closing the door firmly behind me. I lean against it, my heart racing in my chest.

Another potential pack down.

I’m eleven for eleven at this point, which would be an impressive record if—and only if—the game was to get rid of them.

Not to find one to keep.