Page 85 of Knot Here for You

Not one of them does.

Of course they don’t. They’re all too civilized for that. Instead, they’ll throw pointed barbs and talk about me behind my back.

Or in front of my face, but far enough away and quiet enough that I can’t make out the words.

“Breathe, baby girl,” Jackson reminds me. I suck in a breath and immediately some of the anxiety I’d been feeling eases. “Good girl.” He turns to face me, keeping hold of my hand and cupping my face with the other. “Do you want to wait to say hello to our dads? Or just get it over with?”

I glance at the group of men on the far side of the room. All of them have drinks in their hands. Belinda is standing with them. The alpha Adam has his arm wrapped around her waist and she’s leaning into his side, murmuring something to him while he listens. Maxim doesn’t pay her any attention at all.

I always thought their relationship was weird. But then I’d never seen an omega alpha pairing up close before. Ford and Asher’s moms are omegas, their dads are alphas, but we hardly spent any time with them. The boys spent almost all of their time at the Werth Pack house. I don’t know if that is because their parents were traveling or busy, or because of its proximity to me.

Maybe a combination of both.

Either way, I always thought the way Maxim holds himself away from Belinda was strange. Especially when the other members of the pack are so clearly enamored with her. They fawn over her, cater to her needs, her whims. But Maxim… he doesn’t.

Maybe he’s just that… unfeeling?

Emotionally stunted?

Who the hell knows?

I grit my teeth and curve my lips into a semblance of a smile. “Let’s get this over with, and then I need the biggest drink in the history of the world.” I don’t miss the look they all give each other, but don’t waste time worrying about it. Instead, I straighten my shoulders and head toward the elder Werth Pack, dragging Jackson and Asher behind me by their hands. Ford, Topher and Davis flank us.

I pull up a few feet from them and give them the practiced smile that my grandmother practically beat into me. Dipping my head demurely, I murmur, “Maxim.”

“Sylvie.” I don’t miss the way he says my name like it’s filled with venom, but I don’t let it stop me from looking at the other members of his pack with a little more warmth. “Harry, Adam, it’s good to see you.”

They both eye me with a fair amount of distrust. But I just keep on smiling at them until they grudgingly smile back. “Sylvie Benson,” Harry purrs. “Wonderful to see you again.”

“So glad you could make it,” Adam adds.

Belinda shifts between her two alphas, like she wants to say something, but she refrains. Silence is heavy and awkward for a moment, before Harry turns his attention to their sons. I sag in relief as they start talking some kind of business that I have no interest in. I’m just grateful to have the focus no longer be on me.

I did my duty, greeted our hosts, and didn’t shriek at them at all. My grandmother would be so proud.

Around the room, the fancy people go back to their own conversations, apparently content that there won’t be a scene here tonight. Or at least right now.

But I can tell they’re all still watching with interest.

A soft touch at the base of my spine has me turning toward Ford, who smiles down at me. “Should we get you a drink?”

I return his smile and nod. “Yes, please.”

He carefully extracts me from Asher and Jackson, who both glance at me, checking that I’m still okay. I try to look reassuring, and it must work, because they both release me with lingering caresses, and then turn back to the conversation they’re having.

Ford wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side, before it slides down to my waist, his big hand gripping my hip possessively. I melt into him as he guides me across the room and to the bar.

“Wine, please,” I say to him when he arches a brow in question.

His jaw tightens, but he nods and turns to the bartender, placing our order. I glance around the room, distracted by the eyes on me, by the memories of being in this house as a teenager. It’s a weird combination of some of the best moments of my life and the absolute worst.

Ford presses a glass into my fingers, cold and wet with condensation.

“This isn’t wine.” I look down at the sparkling water in my hand. Its got a sprig of mint and a slice of lemon floating in it. Maybe it’s vodka soda? A tentative sip tells me it is no such thing. Just mint and lemon scented bubbly water.

I frown up at Ford, who is pointedly not looking at me. “I’m going to need something a little stronger to get through this.”

His fingers tighten on my hip and he looks down at me with those blazing emerald eyes of his. “You’ll be fine, pipsqueak. There’ll be wine at dinner.”

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