Page 6 of Knot Their Girl
He grinds his teeth and wrinkles his nose. “Got it.”
“Ah-ah.” I hold up a finger, catching him talking already, and in doing so I cause that scowl of his to deepen, and his stare to narrow in an outright glare. Then I snap my fingers and point at his face. “Yes, that’s the expression. Perfect. Don’t lose it. I want you to give everyone that look all night.”
Was that a bitchy move? Yes, but I don’t care. I don’t really like this alpha, and he doesn’t really like me. It’s whatever. After tonight, I’ll never have to see this jerk again.
I turn away from him and continue getting ready, acting as if he’s not standing just a few feet away. Eventually, he turns his back to me and watches anywhere but me, which is fine. Idon’t need his ever-watchful stare on me while I do my hair and makeup. Plus, it lets me apply more of that scent-blocking cream without him asking any questions.
I told him to be silent all night, but I doubt that’ll happen. If someone told me to shut it, I’d give them an earful sooner or later.
My natural hair is straight with a few stray waves. I never like how flat it looks on my head, so I use every excuse I can to give it some volume. I curl it, then run my comb through it, creating uniform waves that give off vintage vibes. I pin up some of my hair on the left side and leave the rest of it down, using a sparkling hair clip that has a diamond-studded omega symbol on it.
I know. Jewelry with a Greek letter. As if every omega loves to advertise that they’re, in fact, an omega. Jewelry, clothes, handbags; it’s more of a status symbol than anything else. Only the rich can afford anything with the Chase name attached to it.
I always hated it. The world already knows what I am, so why bother with the fancy jewelry and everything else? As if I’m proud to be what I am or some shit.
The next thing I do is my makeup. I don’t want to look too stunning, but if I don’t fiddle around with my makeup, I’ll just be sitting here bored to death while everyone else finishes getting ready. There is nothing worse than being bored—and that comes from someone who finds herself bored on more and more occasions lately.
My skin doesn’t need concealer or a layer of foundation. I have no scars, no blemishes. Where I give myself the scent-dampening injection on my inner elbow, I make sure to put makeup on that right after I get up if it bruises, so I don’t risk anyone seeing.
I focus on my eyes, on mascara and expertly-blended eyeshadow and eyeliner. By the time I’m done, my eyesdefinitely give off a come hither look—hmm. Maybe I overdid it on the makeup. I don’t want to give alphas any ideas.
After a while, I hear Delilah clap around the corner, her signal that tonight’s event is about to begin, so I heave a sigh as I get up, and I’m slow in turning toward Pax, who still gives me his back.
“How do I look?” I ask him, watching as he half-assedly glances over his shoulder at me. “Permission to talk for the next thirty seconds.” When he doesn’t say a word, I slip on my heels and do a little twirl for him. “Oh, come on. Give it to me straight, Mr. Alpha. Don’t make me beg.” Now that… that’s a comment I shouldn’t have made, but once it’s out of my mouth, there’s no taking it back.
Pax is slow to face me, and unless I’m mistaken, the scowl on his face lessens for a split-second as he takes me in. His hands at his sides clench and unclench, like he’s eager to put them on something, maybe on me.
Or maybe that’s just a thought my inner omega has.
“Really?” I ask as I cock my head up at him. “Nothing to say? Nothing at all? Your time is ticking, Mr. Alpha.”
“Don’t call me that,” he mutters with a frown. “Unless you want me calling you Ms. Omega?”
I hum, deciding I don’t like being called that at all. “All right, fine. Point taken… Mr. Alabaster. Just for you, I’m extending the thirty seconds. I want you to tell me how I look.” Don’t know why I can’t let this go. I’m not someone who fishes for compliments, compliments always seem to find me on their own.
Except from this one, apparently.
His emerald gaze drops to the tips of my shoes peeking out from beneath the length of the pink dress, and that gaze is slow in rising, taking me in. Taking me all in. The man may hold his breath as he studies me, too. Suddenly I feel rather scrutinized, like I made a mistake by asking him his opinion on my looks.
As if I care about his opinion. I don’t.
Finally, after another few seconds, Pax begrudgingly speaks, “You look like you want to find a match tonight.”
“Well I don’t,” I say. “And it’s your job to be intimidating behind me and scare off any hopefuls.”
Maybe I’m hearing things, but I swear, for a split second after I say that, I hear a faint growl come from his chest, and something in my stomach clenches in response. I hope my face doesn’t give anything away.
“Then you look like you just made my job harder,” he mutters with a frown.
That’s enough to satisfy me—and good thing, too, because Delilah comes around the corner and sighs loudly. “Didn’t you hear me call everybody together? We’re set to begin. You ready to be escorted to your table?”
I shift my stare between her and Pax, Pax’s comment about my looks making his job for the night harder bouncing around in my head. Is it wrong that I take pleasure in knowing he thinks I look good enough to give him trouble?
No, it’s not wrong. Looking good is what us omegas are good at, anyway. Some might say it comes naturally to us.
And then I say the only thing I can: “I’m ready.”
Chapter Four – Pax
