Page 6 of Knot All that Glitters: Part 1

I am not destined for a pack. It’s seeming more and more like I’m destined for the prick standing next to me.

Creed’s dark eyes narrow as he watches me. The same way he’s watched me over the last week. At every public event my father drags me to, at least one, if not all, of the Calloway pack members are there. I don’t know if they’ve always been this devoted to my father and I’ve just never noticed them, or if it’s a recent development for them.

Whatever the case, they are always there, staring at me, watching me. Rarely do they have their attention on my father, and the few times I’ve seen it flicker to him, I swear I see anger in their eyes. But only for a moment before it wiped away, hidden under the calm expressions, the heated glances.

And they areheated. I may not have a lot of experience with alphas, but there is no mistaking the lust in their eyes when they look at me, like I’m something to be coveted, touched, dirtied up, and worshiped. They look at me like I’m theirs. Like they’re halfway to claiming me.

I wish I could let them. But I can’t.

Maybe they don’t want to do anything about it either. Not one of them has approached me since Hale, since I scurried away to hide like the little mouse he called me. I hate that I proved him right.

Still, they come, and they watch me. The omega in me adores the attention. Even though I know I shouldn’t.

I’m startled from my staring contest with Creed when the crowd erupts into applause. Once again, my hands join in of their own accord, the command of my father rigging them to do his bidding. Brian shifts closer to me, and I force my brain to consider scurrying off again. Away from everyone to find a place where I can call Ren and have a moment of peace.

When I do, I’m surprised to find there aren’t any immediate refusals in my body. Oh, thank god. I can go. Now.

I do so without a second thought, hurrying away from Brian before he can make me stay put. I hum quietly to myself to drown out his voice just in case he still tries to command me back.

Away. Away. Away.I need to get away. It pounds through me with every heartbeat.

Not just here at this moment, but in the future. In my life. I need to get away from… everything. Well, everything but Florence. She’s the one part of my current situation I’ll never get rid of.

I duck around a corner, rushing through the crowd of onlookers who largely ignore me, but for the four sets of eyes ofthe Calloway Pack. They follow my path until I push through a door to the outside.

The air is chilly, but the sun is out. Typical early autumn weather for Granton and I love it. If I could spend every spare moment of my time outside, I think I might. But unless it’s a Frederick Bell approved hike or outing, I rarely have time to appreciate the outdoors.

My father just doesn’t think it’s ladylike enough for me.

I wish I could tell him to fuck off. I wish I could just pack up a bag and go. But where would I go? I have no money of my own. I’ve never worked a day in my life beyond being a lifeless prop for Frederick Bell. He never let me learn to drive, even though I begged to. I can’t cook for myself. I’ve managed to research some things, like foraging and the prettiest hikes in our area, but I haven’t actually put anything I’ve learned into practice.

Where would a penniless omega go on her own? More to the point, where would I go if left on my own? I could stay with Florence and her family, but their house, while full of love, is already crowded with the three of them. Besides, if I was trying to hide from my father, staying with Ren would be a stupid move. It’s the first place he’d look, because he knows I have no one else.

Just her.

As I slip farther into the color changing trees surrounding the venue, my phone vibrates again in my little purse. I answer without checking the screen, already knowing who it is.

“What are you doing?” Ren asks, without saying hello.

I sigh and lean against a tree, not caring the slightest that I might get it wrinkled or dirty. I’ve done my part for the day. Now it’s just a matter of waiting around until my father is ready to go home.

“I’m at a function with my father.” Florence snorts at my wording.

“Are they there?” I don’t have to ask who she means. Normally, I don’t tell her about the people I come across at these events, not out of duty to my father, but just because they’re not all that interesting. I only share the really juicy bits of gossip I pick up.

But after that conversation with Hale Calloway, I couldn’t wait to tell Florence all about it. An unremarkable conversation at its core, and yet, I couldn’t keep myself from sharing with her.

Now, every time they show up to one of these things, I text her about it.

I hum an affirmative sound, but don’t particularly want to talk about it, so I ask, “What are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, just biting back insults and curses as we learn new choreography.”

I hum. “Giles still being a jerk, then?”

“When is he not?” Florence is an omega like me, and a dancer. Which is arguably harder than my position as a dutiful daughter. She wants to be a principal, to dance the lead, but every director she’s ever worked with is too gun shy to allow her to do it. Even though she hasn’t had a heat yet, even though she takes suppressants to keep herself from having one unplanned, they simply can’t put her into a lead role only to have her be unavailable for a week. Nevermind that is what understudies are for.

I hum my agreement and wait. She didn’t call just to complain about her choreographer. “What’s your dad up to tonight?”

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