Moving into our lineup at the stage, I glance at the drapes, seeing them twitch as though someone is behind them, but the longer I scowl, the more I blame it on my nerves, seeing things that aren’t there or maybe just a breeze from the open windows. The whole room is decked in these long, silky curtains that close off a lot of the room and make it comfortable and more intimate for the setting and for most Omegas, but it makes my skin itch and my heart ache to be outside. Somewhere with a lot of trees, maybe, where I can feel at home between the thick trunks, and run and dig until I’m sore.
Anna steps onto the stage behind us, forcing me to choose between watching the curtains for a hidden threat, the active Alpha threat, and keeping an eye on Jasmine next to me, whose flowery scent has wilted a little in the line. I pick my friend, tugging her closer and hugging her now that there’s space, though I’m tense now that I’ve turned my back on the queen bitch. Glittery black fabric backs the stage, and I listen to theclick-clackof her heels as she takes her place at the mic, feeling the wave of tension ripple across us all. There’s some speech about appreciating the turnout tonight, about the attractive packs in the crowd, and seeing them preening their suits like pleased little peacocks before we’re marched across the stage, one by one. Once I’ve been subjected to my whistles and shouts, I take my place at the other side, until we’re all done, and the guards move the Alphas away from the stage to their seats, or the bar… Then it’s time to release the Omegas.
Once more, thankfully, my bad attitude has excused some of the friendlier packs from swooping in, or the ones that can’t be bothered trying to wrangle me, though I do catch a few ferocious, toothy smiles as I push past bodies towards the bathroom. I’ve made a habit of this every week I’m here, straight to the bathroom, spend ten minutes until the guards drag me out, then begrudgingly behave for the rest of the night, onlybarking like a dog at the ones who approach me, or trying out progressively weirder tactics to get the Alphas to avoid me. Hopefully, it means I have some time before they realize something’s amiss, and I can be gone and free before that.
Breathing feels like inhaling syrup as I scramble through the crowds—not too slow, I don’t want anyone to speak to me, but not too fast, I don’t want to look suspicious. Pheromones lace every atom in the room, and it’s like a red rag in front of my instincts to have this much tension, especially when whatever I was injected with earlier has made me feel a million degrees and like I want to peel my own skin off to cool down. Something warm and hard steps out in front of me, and I’m rushing just enough that the collision smacks my face clean against the wall of… Enormous fucking Alpha.Triple shit for the night.Looking up until I meet his eyes, I don’t see the predator's gaze of the more dangerous ones, though I don’t discount that he could do some serious harm by accident, given his size. Soft brown eyes gaze through thick lines of double lashes, and his scent of rain on hot asphalt steams around us. Rising in reaction, my own scent combines pretty nicely with his, and I almost lean closer when the sight of his pupils blowing knocks me out of the trance. Goddess, there’s definitely slick staining my panties as I search for an exit.
“Sorry,” I murmur, trying to keep myself calm, small, exactly like a soft little obedient Omega would, “I have to go to the ladies.” Holding my hands up as a ward when his fingers twitch towards me, I skim along the side of him, dancing out of reach as he snatches for me.
“I could come with you…” His deep, thunderous voice hits from his pouty lips, but the big Alpha fangs on display immediately shake any arousal from my body.Yeah, no thank you.
Stepping back again, I check his little name tag on his shirt as I keep moving, “Whilst I appreciate the offer… Riley, I am capable of wiping my own ass. Though I’ll be at the bar when I’m done?” He doesn’t need to know that I meant the bar across the road,outsidethe facility, but maybe if he is hopeful of my return, he’d let me leave without alerting the guards. Batting my lashes at him, the smile that slides across his face is pure masculine pleasure, though he reaches out and loops a finger through the bars on the muzzle.
“I’ll see you soon, pretty girl, don’t keep me waiting?” Releasing my face, he saunters off towards the bar in the corner. Hopefully, he’ll forget about me after a couple of drinks when I inevitably do not return. No time to waste, I’m on the move again. Other sharks will be circling, my perfume like blood in the water. Definitely time to go. Stumbling into the bathroom, I nod to the Beta reapplying her makeup in the mirror; she’s clearly been enjoying the auctions so far, given the hickeys on her throat and thoroughly smeared lipstick.
But I can’t wait.
Can’t think.
I’m so close now.
My plan has come together at last. Slipping into the end stall and sliding the latch into place, I see the window, still open from where I blocked the lock last week, clearly no alarms or anybody checking to ensure we’re well contained in this prison of a place. They tell us that the Omegas are free to come and go if we sign out, and we have to take guards, but in a long year, Monday auction nights are the only times I’ve ever seen any of us escape. As soon as they realize I am missing, there will be a squadron of guards bearing down on the area to find me, checking all the alleys and transport hubs in the district. Not that I am going to any of them. No, I am going to hide in plain sight, exactly where they never check, because it would be purestupidity to hide there. The window creaks and slides once I hear the Beta leaving and open the window enough to squeeze my thick ass through the gap, dropping unceremoniously onto the street behind the warehouse and cursing as I dirty the dress and skin the palms of my hands. I need to be quick; I still have this damn muzzle on my face and need it off and a change of clothes before I start to look really suspicious. The air out here is cool, sweet, and I inhale what feels like my first fresh breath in five long years of being in the auctions. Gooseflesh rises across my arms, a little chillier than I expected for an autumn night, but I stick to my plan, following the glowing neon sign for the Bowline Bar, an anchor with the rope around it shining like a beacon for freedom.Nothing can stop me now.
Fury
Bar tending is purely selfish at this point, an excuse to get out of the pack house and leave those hooligans by themselves for a while. You can get too used to the smell of fresh country air and horse shit. Nah, who am I kidding, a couple of hours in here and I am fed up already, wishing that I could get back to the ranch house and sit with my pack mates. Though on a Monday night, Lucas is working a double at the hospital, another day of letting them push him around. Funny how he is always a grumpy enough bastard at home, but is happy to spend sixteen hours running about with nurses and hospital staff. I am only really here because Deacon, my manager, is off with his current flavor of the month, finding out if an Alpha female's lock really does send a man to heaven. Hopefully not, he has a shift tomorrow, and I really can’t lose him. Looking around the bar, it's clean, tidy, and quiet at the moment. The auction’s still on, but once the packs start kicking out, it picks up. Gracie and Emma, my two hires, are due once the rush hits. There’s a nice atmosphere tonight, laid back, and I like auction nights; my staff gets plenty of tips, and I throw mine in with theirs. Don’t need it when one of your pack mates is a trust fund baby, I guess.
I take it back, I was a city boy as a kid—a nice, sociable kid raised by two Beta shifter parents… But the change hits hard and fast as an Alpha and a wolf, and the paved roads don’t feel so good on your paws, and the scent of diesel in your nose isn’tpleasant… Nor does the stench of piss in a public bathroom. I’ll need to get in there tonight and scrub it. It’s times like this that I wish I were on call as the local farm vet, or at the office during the day. I’d rather be knee deep in abscessed bull hooves or alpaca births than admitting I have to clean the bathroom tonight. Dropping my head back, I toss the cloth under the bar, scoping out my mop bucket and getting ready to commit some sort of crimes with bleach, when I seeher.
Tonight might just be the end of me.
I don’t know how I didn’t spot her coming in, she must have snuck in when one of the rowdy packs did, and the industrial scent scrubbers blasting away through the vents meant I didn’t even catch a whiff of her. Sitting at the end of the long bar, next to the staff door, playing with the length of thick maritime rope that edged the mahogany counter is an Omega. AnunbondedOmega at that, wearing one of those gland cages disguised as fancy jewelry, a muzzle, and the foulest expression I can see around the red plastic on her face. That’s saying something considering I live with Lucas. Regardless of the fancy face cover, she is baring those little fangs at anybody who passes, and I don’t even step in when she smashes one of my nice whisky tumblers over the head of an Alpha who tries to manhandle her towards his table. On the contrary, I let him know that he can fuck off before I call the cops, or find a deep hole that nobody will ever find him in. My regulars ain’t stupid, they’ve seen some of the heavy guns who drink in here when they’ve got time off, and they know it’s not worth their time.
Spunky little thing.I watch this little Omega, she can’t be much over five feet tall, and she’s built for comfort… Something I very much like in my women. When you get a little wild with claws and have enough metal in your dick to set off the airport body scanners, you enjoy a little soft luxury. Plus, she is wearing the hell out of that dress. Unbonded Omegas only seem to bringtrouble, though, and in the time since I’ve noticed her, most of my customers have either fled or migrated to the opposite side of the lounge, well away from where I serve. Hell, I haven’t even approached her yet, and I’ve had enough of my own glassware become projectiles in my direction that I know I don’t want to have to call my pack mates to come pick me up. They’d never let me live it down. But then, if you asked any of them, not a one of them would claim I have good sense in my head, and any brain cells I do have bounce when it comes to a pretty girl. So, I do what I would with most loners at the bar. I pick a drink and slide it over to her, a Pirates Bane, some rummy concoction that has an ice cube in the vague shape of a ship bobbing about on top of the liquid.
Pale, seafoam eyes glance between the glass and my smiling face, but it falls off as she deadpans me, “Really, smartass?” I tilt my head, confusion pulling my brows as I rub my chin, only to hear her grumble, “My scent, rum.”
Rum scented. That’s a new one, would match real well with my whisky if we… Nope, not going there. I’ve had a hard on since the tumbler incident and would really like it to go down before I have to go out and bus tables.
“Just had a new filter system put in. Can’t smell shit except that aerosol smell and the toilets when someone swings the door too hard.” Never wished I could smell someone so bad before, though I don’t tell her that part. Given the description of the system—claiming it could handle an Omega in full heat—I doubt I’d even catch a whiff of this spicy little thing.Hmmm,my mind wanders as I move back to tend the bar, running on autopilot as I wonder if it would be too forward to ask to take her home. She’d smell great with me,but sandwiched between me and any of my pack members?Damn. So much for getting rid of the erection, reminding me of its presence by throbbing painfully beneath my jeans.Has it really been so long since I’ve takensomeone home?Sure, work has been a little stressful and busy over the last month, getting calves all checked and weaned at the local ranches, but I’m sure I’d fit in a couple of flings during that period.Maybe.
Pinging off a quick text to our pack group chat, I reach out for some extra backup. The bar is starting to get busy now, and I can’t keep an eye on my guest all night, especially since Gracie is clocking in, and Emma is rushing in after her. I’d be keeping an eye on my staff over the little Omega at the bar. I wouldn’t bother my pack usually, but with how much trouble she’s attracted this far, it might be better to have someone on babysitting duty until it comes calling. With any luck, Atlas is off tonight. Both he and Clay—two of my pack Alphas—are built like brick shit houses, but Atlas is more brawn than brain with a heart four sizes too large in his chest.
And a chest four sizes too large for most of his shirts.
An Omega's wet dream in one big delicious himbo package.
He has a way with kids, old folk, and Omegas that just seems to score him extra points, and I hope it will keep this one calm whilst we figure out what to do with her, or she goes on her merry way. Atlas, being the other wolf shifter, is definitely a help, too. If it goes to hell tonight, his sharper senses will keep him on top of it. Sure enough, my phone pings with a response, letting me know he’ll be here once he finds a space. Looking around the bar, I grimace at the influx of customers, the buzz and hum of packs picking up with barely a seat left or space to swing a cat. People stand at the dart board, or at one of the tables, upside down anchors fixed to the floor with a big wooden top fixed on them.
Bowline was a total dump when I bought her, a complete fixer-upper with smashed windows, rotting beams, and the worst case of damp and wood rot that I had ever seen in a building that is still standing. Seeing it like this, so packed anddoing well, is like a cool drink after years in the desert. We would have had an easier time if we’d had Atlas and Clay around at the time instead of just Theo and Luc doing our best to make it by. I wouldn’t change our pack for the world, but I might have rushed our meeting a little sooner.
Angry cursing draws me from my robotic serving as the little Omega splutters and coughs.
“First time?” Snorting at her antics, I hand her a pile of paper napkins with little anchors embellished against the dark blue, followed by a fresh drink.
“Hardly,” Cursing as she dabs at her dress, her scowl is adorable enough to laugh at, if I hadn’t seen her accuracy with a tumbler earlier. “Fucking muzzle is in the way. Who do I have to blow around here to get a straw?”
This time, I chuckle, only to receive a sharp narrowing of her eyes and a little lip lift to bare her teeth. Thankfully, the bar hides the interested inflation of my cock from sight, but I’m not the only one who’s looking at her now. Other hungry-looking Alphas have turned, a little less friendly and controlled than I am.Where’s Atlas?I really don’t want to have to split up a fight tonight over this one, or worse, be involved in said fight.
