I shift, angling my body away from him without moving my feet. The message should be clear.
I’m working. Not interested. Go away.
Gabriel doesn’t take the hint. He never does.
A box wrapped in silver tissue paper appears in his hand, small enough to fit in his palm. He extends ittoward me, the gesture casual, as if offering me gifts is a normal part of my night. “I saw this and thought of you.”
The muscle in my jaw ticks, and I keep my attention on the crowd, watching the drunk Beta weave toward the bar again. “I don’t want it.”
The words come out flat, final. Most people would take the dismissal and retreat. Gabriel just stands there, the wrapped box still extended, patient as a statue.
His mouth curves up at one corner in amusement, as if he expected this response. “You haven’t even looked at it.”
No reason not to live up to his imagination. “Don’t care.”
A group of Omegas pushes past us, and one of them bumps Gabriel’s shoulder with a flirtatious giggle. I expect his attention to follow, the way every other Alpha would when presented with a pretty Omega’s attention. But he doesn’t even acknowledge them, the tissue paper crinkling as he adjusts his grip without lowering the box.
“It’s a watch.” He tips the box, the paper catching the light. “I noticed you don’t wear one.”
“Don’t need one,” I grunt. “That’s what cell phones are for. Stop wasting your money.”
“You keep saying that.” Gabriel lowers the box, tucking it into his jacket pocket. “But you haven’t told me what youareinterested in.”
The music shifts, the bass dropping into a deeper register that vibrates through the floor. Purple lights sweep across Gabriel, the hazel of his eyes appearing lighter in the strobing colors.
He takes a half step closer, breaching the unspoken line into my personal space. My spine stiffens, every instinct screaming at me to back away, but I hold my ground. I won’t show weakness in front of this rich Alpha.
“Tell me what you like, then,” Gabriel says, his head tilting to the side.
The question punches the air from my lungs, my vision narrowing until only Gabriel remains, waiting for an answer I can’t give.
Tell me what you like.
After so many years, such a simple question shouldn’t cause this visceral reaction. But the moment the words leave Gabriel’s lips, the guard’s voice layers over it, and I’m back on that cement floor, his breath hot on my neck.
Tell me what you like, and I’ll make it good for you.
It had never been about what I wanted, just a way to make me complicit in what he did to me. When Igritted my teeth and stayed silent, he just made it worse, until choosing became the better of two evils.
My heart hammers, and sweat beads along my hairline. My skin grows tight, the scars hidden under my clothes itching.
Gabriel’s mouth is still moving, but I can’t hear the words over the roaring in my ears. The club fades, replaced by concrete walls and the buzz of fluorescent lights. Hands on my wrists, my ankles, holding me down.
Tell me what you like?
I turn and walk away. My boots carry me across the floor, weaving through dancers who scatter as I push through, my goal the back hallway and the emergency exit sign glowing red at the far end.
Air. I need air. The walls are closing in, the music too loud, the bodies too close. My shoulder clips someone’s arm, and they curse, but I don’t stop. Can’t stop. If I stop, I’ll do something I’ll regret.
“Saint!” Marcus’s shout cuts through the fog. “Where are you going?”
I don’t answer. The hallway swallows me, the noise from the club muffled by the black-painted walls. My breath comes in short bursts, too fast, not enough oxygen reaching my brain.
Behind me, another voice rises above the music. “If you don’t want the rich guy, I’ll happily take him off your hands.”
I spin to find the Beta who mans the coat check on his way to the breakroom.
He smirks at me. “I’m willing to put out for an Alpha if they’ve got expensive gifts.”
