Page 64 of Believe it or Knot

“Just like that?”

He shrugs and doesn’t meet my eyes. “If that’s what it takes.”

“I don’t think she’d ask you to do that.”

He gives a soft laugh and shakes his head. “No. No, she definitely wouldn’t. It’s her mission to make sure everyone else has everything they need, even to the detriment of her own comfort. Lovely, sweet girl. I love my career. I love my fans. But I love my pack more. I think I-” he cuts the words off, shakes his head again. “Well, anyway, I’d happily give it up if it means giving her what she needs.”

I could say that I don’t think him quitting his profession would stop our pack from being in the spotlight, if anything, I suspect the media shitstorm that would cause would be… more than detrimental to Sorrel’s wellbeing, but I’m so struck by how easily he’s willing to do that for a girl we hardly know.

Of course, saying the words and following through with them are two very different things.

I’m not sure I can even imagine who Liam would be if he wasn’t an entertainer. Would he still be Liam? Would he still be my omega?

Of course he would be, I tell myself. He just wouldn’t be everyone else’s omega as well.

And that is very fucking appealing to me. To have Liam all to myself… or I guess all to our pack. To no longer need to share him with the world.

But would he be happy?

That is the question.

He’d probably be okay for a while, but eventually he’d resent Sorrel. And I don’t want that either.

“Let’s see how dinner goes,” I suggest. “It should be pretty quiet. We’ll sneak in through the back and our booth will be private.”

Liam nods. “Maybe if we can show her we can protect her privacy, she’ll want to be with us.” He pops up on his toes and pecks my mouth. “I’m gonna go get ready.”

Forty-five minutes later, Sorrel is standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking as pretty as ever. Her hair is sleek and smooth, like she straightened it, and twisted into a complicated updo at the back of her head, that involves braids and buns. She’s wearing a teal colored sundress with little pink and white flowers on it. Not one we bought her, I can tell from the fabric, but she looks so damn pretty, it doesn’t matter. Even if I prefer her hair in its normal wild waves hanging down her back.

She’s taken her time with her make-up, lining her aqua eyes in black, gold shimmer over her lids and her lips are a nude pink and glossy. She stands there for a moment, fingers fidgeting together in front of her, shifting uncomfortably.

“Is this okay?” The uncertainty in her voice breaks me out of my trance.

I take three big steps toward her until I can touch her. I want to kiss her, but I don’t want to mess up the perfect outline of her mouth. Not yet at least, later will be a different matter.

Instead, I cup her neck, my thumb pressing into her chin to keep her head tilted up, meeting my eyes so she can see I mean it when I say, “you’re beautiful, sweet thing. Fucking perfect.”

A shuddering breath falls from her lips and goose pimples pop up all over her skin. Her nipples pucker, pressing against the thin fabric of her dress. “You’re sure? I can change into one of the dresses you guys bought me. If this isn’t… fancy enough.”

“No,” I say firmly. “This is perfect.” A small smile is my reward. I know she didn’t pack any of the clothes we picked out for her, but the closet in her room upstairs is full of items that we thought would look phenomenal on her. Liam had far too much fun adding things to the cart, and I’m pretty sure between what’s here and what’s at her house, Sorrel has enough outfits for three months, where she wouldn’t have to wear the same thing twice.

Still she presses, “Are you sure? You’re wearing a suit.”

I shrug and bend to kiss the tip of her nose. “I’m always wearing a suit, sweet thing.”

“That’s true.”

She glances over her shoulder as Liam and Rafe come down the stairs. Both of them are in slacks and jackets—charcoal gray for Rafe, navy blue for Liam—and a furrow appears between her brows.

“I’m changing,” she mutters, twisting away from me, but I catch her elbow and tug her back until she’s leaning against my chest. I wrap an arm around her shoulders, resting my chin on the top of her silky hair.

“No, you’re not. You look divine in this dress.”

She huffs as my pack mates approach us, stalking forward like predators sighting prey. “I don’t look as good as you do, though.”

“Sorrel, conejita,” Rafe purrs. “You look fucking edible. I can’t wait for dessert.”

Liam kisses her cheek, apparently also not wanting to mess up her lipstick, like me. “In case you missed his meaning there, lovely, he means you. We’re going to eat you for dessert.”

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