Knot Their Darling (Knotting-verse #1)

The ballroom is an impressive, wide space decked out with chandeliers that give off enough light to make it feel like it’s daytime and not, you know, after dusk. The omegas are all situated at their own tables scattered throughout the room, their sponsors nearby. Waiters and waitresses bus between the tables, bringing out drinks and food, if it’s ordered.

There are enough alphas here tonight that multiple packs have to wait around until their turn with the omegas. It’s like a speed-dating night: alphas sit down at the tables, talk with the omega—drool over the omega—and then rinse and repeat. Musical chairs with an alpha and omega twist.

Since I wasn’t registered, I’m basically a ceremony crasher, my table is smaller and off to the side of the ballroom. You can tell it’s an extra folding table they had tucked away somewhere; the white tablecloth doesn’t quite fit and hangs closer to the floor.

Which is just fine with me. There are still plenty of alphas to go around. When they sit down across from me, the last thing they’re focused on is the table and how it doesn’t match the rest.