For a while that evening, Marcus watched him from where he sat. He took his second bourbon slowly, savoring the smooth taste. Patience wasn’t his best virtue, but he knew that if he wanted to pursue the omega at the bar, he’d need toexerciseit.
If.
Marcus’ fingers traced along the glass in his palm. Theifstill ate at him. After all this time, wasn’t that what he wanted? Something new. Something outside of theordinary.
Somethingforbidden.
All of itlinedup.
Crawford had advised him that monotony was what was killing his drive and making him lose interest. There was nothing monotonous about taking one of Clarissa’s bartenders to bed and shaping him into the kind of partner Marcus preferred—if he needed to be shaped at all. It took a certain kind of person to work in a place like The Shepherd, and Crawford had an inkling that the omega wasn’t the innocent creature Clarissa made him outtobe.
There was only one way tofindout.
Marcus watched the omega carry a tray of drinks into one of the public rooms, momentarily disappearing from sight. When he came back, his cheeks were flushed. Marcus wouldn’t have noticed the slight discoloration in the pale light if he hadn’t been lookingforit.
He found itcurious.
The omega was sure enough of himself to tell Marcus no, but he was still bashful enough to get flustered over the small things. How rosy would those cheeks burn if Marcus whispered in his ear all the depraved things he could see themdoing?
The fantasy lingered with him for the rest of the night, reinforced every time the omega glanced his way. It was another standard night at The Shepherd, but for Marcus, it was anything but ordinary. For the first time in years, he found himself excited for what wastocome.
“What’s your name?” Marcus murmured to himself after the last of the bourbon passed his lips. He set the glass back down on the table, the clink of glass against wood drowned out by distant music and the swelling roar ofconversation.
He wouldfindout.
It wasn’t a question of if—it was a questionofwhen.
* * *
Marcus shruggedout of his jacket, hanging it carefully in his closet before he addressed any of his other clothing. Button by button, he undid his shirt, then eased it from his shoulders. Shadows played across his chest—he hadn’t turned on the light when he’d come intotheroom.
In silence he stripped, and when he was done, he moved to the side of his bedandsat.
Doing it right was better than doing it quickly. He’d never felt that way before, but now he understood what Crawford meant. No one else had woken interest in him like that oneomegahad.
Marcus would not rush things. The omega who’d caught his eye deserved better than that. But doing things right didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun whiledoingthem.
Marcus grinned into thedarkness.
It was time he got back into thesaddle.
7
Lucian
The memoryof darkly intense eyes followed Lucian beneath the orange glow of street lights all the way to the locked door of his apartment building. The weightless, infinite feeling those eyes brought lingered even after Lucian had opened the door and made his way to his apartment. It was only when the front door was closed and locked behind him that Lucian let his shoulders slump. He emptied his lungs, exhaling until they stung, then scrubbed at his face and headed for thebathroom.
The overhead light flicked on. Lucian squinted against it, then gave in and squeezed his eyes shut. He navigated to the sink by touch alone, gripping either side of it with his hands. Head hung, he dared to open his eyes in narrowslits.
What had happened tonight was exhilarating, but it couldn’t keep going on. Itcouldn’t. The way Marcus’ eyes stuck with him for hours was toodangerous.
If he kept looking at Lucian like that, it wouldn’t be long before Lucian’snomorphed into anow, and he couldn’t afford that. He’d taken the bartending job because he needed it, and he wasn’t going to let an alpha wrest control back from him now that he’d finally found his independence. Lucian was stronger than that. He’d fought harder for his freedom than most people could likelycomprehend.
If clients at The Shepherd were off-limits, he wouldn’t tempt fate. It didn’t matter how handsome Marcus Hayes was, or how he made Lucian’s pulse work overtime—Lucian wasn’tinterested.
Not now, and not for as long as he worked at TheShepherd.
As Lucian’s eyes adjusted to the light, he opened them farther. He saw his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror and couldn’t help but frown. It was no wonder Marcus was all over him—he was glowing. Clear, stunning skin. Full lips. Dewy eyes. Hell, even his hair looked brighter thannormal.
