Knot the One They Want (Claimverse Book 1)
Knot the One They Want: Chapter 7

I smooth the skirt of my dress, the pale pink fabric sliding like silk beneath my fingertips. It’s the kind of dress I always imagined wearing for this moment—classic, feminine, perfectly tailored to hug my curves. And yet, as I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror, I can’t quite reconcile the image before me with the sinking feeling in my stomach.

‘You look stunning, Eves,’ Addie says softly from behind me, her warm hands resting on my shoulders. ‘Just like a princess.’

I meet her eyes in the mirror, seeing the concern she’s trying to mask with a smile.

‘I don’t feel like a princess,’ I mutter. ‘More like a lamb being led to slaughter.’

Addie’s brow furrows. ‘Evie, you don’t have to do this. There’s still time to⁠—’

‘To what?’ I cut her off, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. ‘Back out? Embarrass myself and my family in front of the entire coalition? Break a sacred tradition?’

I shake my head, turning to face my best friend directly. ‘I literally have to do this, Addie. I don’t have a choice.’

She bites her lip, hazel eyes searching mine for a long moment before a mischievous glint enters them. ‘Well, you could always fake a mystery illness.’

A surprised giggle bursts from my throat, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. Trust Addie to replace a way to make me laugh, even in my darkest moments.

‘Can you imagine the look on Vivienne’s face?’ I snicker, picturing my stepmother’s perfectly plucked brows rising to her hairline.

‘Hey, it would be the perfect revenge.’

We dissolve into a fit of laughter, the kind that only best friends can share, our foreheads pressed together as we cling to each other. For a fleeting instant, I almost forget the impending proposal, the weight of expectation, the gnawing fear that I’m about to tie myself to a pack who sees me as nothing more than a pretty trinket.

A sharp knock at the door shatters the moment.

‘Evangeline? It’s nearly time to leave for the meeting hall.’ Vivienne’s clipped tone filters through the wood, a reminder that my fate is sealed.

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders and smoothing my features into a mask of serene confidence. It’s the same mask I’ve worn a thousand times before, at galas and garden parties, in lecture halls and at luncheons. The mask of the perfect omega, beautiful and biddable, with no desires beyond pleasing her alpha.

But as I turn back to the mirror for a final appraisal, I catch a glimpse of something else in my reflection. A flicker of defiance, a glimmer of the real Evie hidden beneath the veneer. The Evie who dreams of more than a gilded cage, who yearns for a pack that actually understands and values me as a person, not just an object to be won and put on a shelf.

Or, in the case of the Blackwood pack, ignored entirely.

I may have to go through with this farce of a proposal. Assuming the Blackwoods haven’t just called both our coalitions together in order to reject me publicly. Actually, I wouldn’t put it past them.

Is it bad that I’d actually kind of be relieved?

I take Addie’s arm, drawing strength from her steady presence as we make our way downstairs. The rest of my family is already waiting in the foyer, their expressions a mix of anticipation and apprehension. Like they’re waiting for me to screw this up, too.

Vivienne’s critical gaze sweeps over me, lingering on my hair, my dress, my shoes. I resist the urge to fidget under her scrutiny, keeping my spine straight and my chin high. Finally, she gives a curt nod of approval.

Incredible. I feel like I should get a trophy just for that.

The drive to the meeting house is a blur of manicured lawns and stately mansions. I stare out the window, my mind racing with possibilities. What if the Blackwoods reject me outright? What if they’re even worse than they were the other night?

Especially Damien.

By the time we pull up to the sprawling country club, my stomach is tied in knots. I step out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath my heels. The meeting house looms before me, all gleaming white columns and grand arched windows. It’s the kind of place that reeks of old money and older traditions. The kind of place where deals are made over brandy and cigars, where reputations are built and broken with a whisper.

All among alphas, of course.

Addie squeezes my hand as we climb the steps, her presence a lifeline in the choppy sea of my anxiety. We follow my parents into the grand ballroom, where round tables are draped in crisp white linens and adorned with towering floral centerpieces. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the room, glinting off the silverware and champagne flutes.

Most mating ceremonies aren’t decked out like this. The Blackwoods really spared no expense. It’s like something out of a fairy tale, and for a moment, I let myself pretend that’s all it is.

A pretty story, not my reality.

But then I see them. The Blackwood pack, seated at the head table, their powerful frames and cool gazes impossible to miss. Damien, with his inky black hair and piercing blue eyes. Asher, all golden charm with a deadly smile on his lips. Cole, quiet and intense, with a stare that could cut glass. And Lake, as ethereal and enigmatic as his name suggests.

Every eye in the room is on me as I make my way to the front, but I keep my gaze fixed straight ahead. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me falter, of glimpsing the cracks in my carefully crafted facade. I keep my place beside my father, my movements graceful and measured as if this is just another society dinner, not the moment that will define the rest of my life.

Vivienne leans over, her voice low and urgent in my ear. ‘Remember, Evangeline, you are a Beaumont. You will smile, you will charm, and you will secure this alliance. Failure is not an option.’

I nod, my smile never wavering, even as her words twist like a knife in my gut. Because she’s right. Failure isn’t an option. Not for me, not for my family. I have to be perfect, no matter the cost.

It figures she’s been acting like I’m not a Beaumont for most of my life, but now, she wants to remind me of that fact since it’s finally convenient for her.

My heart is pounding beneath the delicate lace of my bodice as the four alphas of the Blackwood pack rise in unison. Damien steps forward, his movements fluid and precise as he pulls out my chair, the perfect picture of gentlemanly grace. And yet, there’s something in the set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders, that belies the polished facade.

As I thank him and settle into my seat, I feel their gazes on me, heavy and assessing. It’s a far cry from the cool indifference they displayed at our last meeting, and for a moment, I allow myself to wonder if perhaps I misjudged them. If there’s more to this pack than our first encounter led me to believe.

But before I can dwell on that thought, Carl Blackwood is rising to his feet, his glass held aloft. ‘Friends, family, esteemed guests,’ he begins, his voice carrying across the ballroom with the ease of a born orator. ‘Thank you all for joining us on this momentous occasion.’

The weight of expectation settles over the room like a thick fog. I’m not the only one who knows why we’re all gathered here. An alliance between two powerful coalitions will have ripple effects that benefit more than just our families.

My father reaches over to put a hand on my shoulder, the first fatherly gesture I can remember in ages, but it does little to quell the nerves fluttering in my stomach.

‘Tonight is a special night for the Blackwood family,’ Carl continues, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd. ‘A night of new beginnings, of alliances forged and futures secured.’

My breath catches in my throat, my fingers tightening around the stem of my glass.

This is it.

The moment I’ve been simultaneously dreading and anticipating for weeks.

‘And so, without further ado, I’d like to invite my son to share a few words,’ the older Blackwood finishes, turning to Damien with an approving nod.

The four young alphas rise to their feet, their powerful frames towering over the assembled guests. But it’s Damien who steps forward first, his piercing gaze locking with mine across the table.

For a moment, the world seems to fall away, the chatter of the crowd fading to a distant hum as I stare into those fathomless blue eyes. And in that instant, I see it—the flicker of resignation, the weariness that mirrors my own.

He doesn’t want this any more than I do.

That realization hits me like a physical blow and his behavior at the last dinner makes a little more sense. All this time, I’d assumed the Blackwood pack were the ones orchestrating this farce, that they were the ones who stood to benefit from tying themselves to the Beaumont name.

But looking at Damien now, I can see the truth written plainly on his face. He’s just as trapped as I am. Just as bound by duty and expectation.

It’s a strangely comforting thought, even as it fills me with a fresh wave of dread. Because if neither of us wants this, then what hope do we have of making it work? Of forging a true partnership, a real bond?

I force myself to take a deep breath, to push down the rising panic and focus on the moment at hand. I can worry about the future later. For now, I have a role to play.

Despite his obvious reservations—obvious to me, at least—Damien’s voice rings out clear and strong, echoing through the ballroom. ‘The Blackwood pack has an announcement to make.’

He pauses, his gaze sweeping over the assembled guests before settling on me. There’s an intensity in his eyes that makes my breath catch, a sense of gravity that belies the polished veneer of this whole affair.

‘We have chosen an omega to court.’

My heart pounds in my ears, a dizzying mix of anticipation and dread. I know what’s coming, but hearing the words spoken aloud makes it real in a way that steals the air from my lungs.

I guess at least I don’t have to worry about them turning me down in front of everyone. That should be a relief. So why do I feel like I’ve just been ensnared in a hunter’s trap?

‘Evangeline Beaumont,’ Damien declares, his voice softening ever so slightly on my name. ‘We wish to court you, to claim you as our own.’

The room erupts in a flurry of gasps and murmurs, but I barely register the reaction. All I can focus on is the sight of the four alphas sinking to their knees before me, their powerful bodies lowered in a gesture of supplication that does nothing to erase the real power dynamic between us.

It’s just a formality. Window dressing, really.

And then Damien is reaching into his pocket, producing a small, flat velvet box. He opens it with a reverence that borders on religious, revealing a collar nestled within the plush folds.

It’s breathtaking. A band of the finest gold, supple and smooth, with a delicate pink diamond glittering at the center. It’s almost as if it was crafted specifically to match the hue of my dress, the very embodiment of femininity and submission.

A collar is a traditional marker of a pack’s intent to claim an omega. A symbol of protection—or possession, depending on your point of view—in lieu of an eventual mating mark. Even then, some omegas continue to wear them after.

‘Evangeline Beaumont,’ Damien repeats, his voice low and fervent. ‘Will you accept our courtship? Will you consent to be our omega?’

I can feel every eye in the room on me, waiting with bated breath for my response. My instincts scream at me to run, to flee this gilded cage and the suffocating weight of expectation.

But then I catch sight of my father’s face, the hope and pride shining in his eyes. Of Vivienne, her lips pressed into a thin line of warning. Of my siblings, too young to understand the gravity of this moment but sensing the importance all the same.

I’m trapped, as surely as if the collar were already around my neck.

‘Yes,’ I breathe, the word feeling like a hand tightening around my throat. ‘I accept.’

The room erupts in a chorus of cheers and applause, a cacophony of sound that pounds against my skull. But all I can focus on is the feeling of Damien’s fingers brushing against my throat as I gather my hair up and he fastens the collar around my neck.

It settles against my skin like a brand, a mark of ownership that sends a shiver down my spine. The collar is lightweight, and it feels as if it was molded perfectly to the curve of my throat, but it feels like a shackle all the same.

I force a smile to my lips as Damien rises to his feet, the picture of the proud alpha claiming his prize. But inside, I’m screaming.

This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t the fairy tale romance I’ve dreamed of, the partnership of equals I’d longed for.

This is a transaction. A business deal sealed with a pretty piece of jewelry and a public spectacle.

I catch Addie’s eye across the room, wincing inside at the concern and sympathy etched into her features. She knows me better than anyone, knows the turmoil roiling beneath my carefully crafted facade.

But there’s nothing she can do. Nothing anyone can do.

I’m a Beaumont, and I have a duty to uphold. Even if it means sacrificing my own happiness, my own dreams.

As the alphas of the Blackwood pack surround me, their expressions all varying degrees of unreadable, I feel a sense of numbness settle over me.

This is my life now.

This is my fate.

And as the diamond on my collar catches the light, glittering resplendently, I can’t help but think it feels like a beautiful prison.