No matter how bad The Shepherd was, he would overcome, he would persevere, and he woulddominate.
“I’m impressed.” Clarissa traced her fingernails along the can. Condensation already beaded the aluminum, and its droplets grew thick and slid down the side of the can as she disturbed them. “I can tell you right now that you have the drive we’re looking for, but I’mwondering…”
“Ask me anything.” Lucian had nothing to hide. His life had belonged to others for so long that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t disclose. Very few things belonged to him, andonlyhim.
“Would you say the same thing if I was an alpha instead of an omega?” Clarissa looked at him from beneath her lashes, the expression powerfully seductive. When she spoke next, the whiskey overwhelmed the honey in her voice, and Lucian found himself glued to her every word. “Would you meet my eye and speak as boldly and confidently to my face if you knew I had power over you? If your body told you that you must submittome?”
Lucian’s pulse raced. He heard it rushing in his ears. Clarissa was an omega, but in that moment, she embodied alpha better than some of the men Lucian had been forced to taketobed.
It wasn’t enough to holdhimback.
Lucian met her eye, his expression stern. “It doesn’t matter who you are. It doesn’t matter what you say. I’m not swayed by alphas. I will not waver. I’m in this forme, not foranyoneelse.”
The dark, dominant glint in Clarissa’s eyes disappeared, and the chipper woman Lucian had met downstairs returned. She brushed the droplets of condensation from her fingertips onto her jeans, then held her hand out to him. Lucian looked down at it, then back up ather. “Um?”
“Welcome to The Shepherd.” Clarissa took his hand and shook it, her grip every bit as confident as the way she looked at him. “You start next Wednesday atseven.”
4
Marcus
Another Friday nightmeant another evening spent indulging his whims at The Shepherd. Marcus passed beneath the neon glow of The Shepherd’s sign and through the front door. The lobby was the same as always—tidy, uncluttered, and manned by a familiar face.Stephanie.
Stephanie’s thick, horn-rimmed glasses gleamed in the lobby’s overhead light. Marcus nodded to her on the way to the dance floor, and she quirked her cherry lips justforhim.
“What’s happening tonight, cutie?” she asked as he passed by her desk. “I saw you went home with Cyrus’ boy last week. What’s his nameagain?”
“Boy,” Marcus said. He stopped to chat. Tonight would shape up the same as every night did—a few drinks, a few conversations with friends, and then a solitary trip back home. There was no need to rush disappointment. “His nameisBoy.”
“Mm, I forgot. I guess that’s not so hard when names change as often as they do around here.” Stephanie fiddled with a pen, flicking it back and forth between her fingers. “Are you playing with him again tonight? You looked cute together. Maybe Cyrus will share and you can play good Dom, bad Domtogether.”
“I’m notinterested.”
“That’s a shame.” Stephanie pouted. “You haven’t looked happy lately, Marcus. I know it’s none of my business, but I care about my regulars. Are youdoingokay?”
Marcus resisted the urge to sigh. His expression tightened, and he put on the stern facade he used so often in the courtroom. “I’m fine. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’tcomehere.”
“I suppose.” Stephanie set the pen down. “I guess I’m a sucker for happy endings,isall.”
The facade fell. Marcus arched a brow and cracked a grin, but before he could dig into her, Stephanie crossedherarms.
“Not like that!” she huffed. “A girl can’t have a little fun around here without having her reputation dragged through the mud,canshe?”
“You make it too easy.” Marcus pushed off from the desk and headed for the door separating him from the dance floor. “Any new blood intonight?”
“There are a few new faces, but you’re going to have to go in to find them.” She winked and waved her fingers at him in parting. “Have a good night, Marcus. Try not to partytoohard.”
“It’ll be hard, but I’ll tough it outforyou.”
Stephanie’s airy laugh was the last thing Marcus heard before the throbbing beats of the dance floor engulfed him. The music pulsed in his veins and hooked into his soul, freeing him of the shackles of his daily life and rewarding him with total bliss. As much as he bemoaned his situation and longed for something more, he couldn’t ignore the way The Shepherd madehimfeel.
The community. The camaraderie. The sinful, indulgent nature ofitall.
For a few hours every week, Marcus cast aside the professional man he was known to be and truly, unabashedly, became himself. It was liberation likenothingelse.
On Friday nights at The Shepherd, Marcuswashome.
* * *
