Good Girl by Sam Hall
Chapter 6
O: I’ve spoken to the others. They’re in.
Orion and I had traded numbers before I’d left, and the message arrived just as I got out of the shower. I guessed a guy wasn’t worried about texting too soon when it was a fake relationship at stake.
Me: So, the cocktail party at the Sullivan compound tonight?
O: Don’t worry about that. The season calendar? That’s for academy girls. You’re a Rhodes.
Oh, that was a thing now? I looked around at my room, which wasn’t that different to when I was a teenager, just less posters of boy bands.
Me: K. Where would a Rhodes go?
O: (devil emoji) Apothecary
Me: …
That was what he would have seen as my thumb hovered over my phone, ready to reply, but with what? Apothecary was a well-known club. Well, notorious rather than famous. Drugs, strip shows, live bands, BDSM displays. It was like a modern-day Hellfire Club and very, very exclusive. No one knew who owned it, but I was willing to bet Orion did. I sure as hell wasn’t going to find the right kind of alpha there. If anything, it was the hunting ground of the very overbearing, abusive dickholes I’d had nightmares about. But…
Me: What do I wear?
And then he wrote the magic words.
O: Whateva you want
OK, I was fucking sold. A night of voyeurism, seeing how the other half lived. I could do that and dress up in Madam Colette’s beautiful creations in the morning. I texted back my acquiescence, putting my phone on charge before taking a disco nap until the sun set.
Tap, tap, tapon my door.
“Cyn, George has texted me to see if you’re going to the Sullivan thing tonight? I have him on retainer, but we need to keep him informed,” Mum called through my door.
I groaned, blinking, then saw that I’d slept the day away, but thankfully, I woke with no hangover. I was fresh and ready to play.
“Not going to the Sullivans,” I said, sitting down at my dressing table. I’d scrubbed all evidence of the makeup artist’s work away and now snapped open my own case of war paint, pulling out my best winged eyeliner brush. “O’s invited me to one of his friend’s clubs.”
“O?” She opened the door a crack, then saw I was wrapped in a robe. “Orion?”
That hope, that lightness in her tone. I clung to that like I did my powder brush, painting my skin paler, then my eyes darker. I worked until I looked like the perfect caricature of an omega, all big dewy eyes as I applied tiny diamantes to my eyelids and pale, bloodless flesh.
“Yep.” I opened my phone messages and checked to see what the transport plans were. “He’s picking me up here in an hour.”
“I’ll ring George then,” she said, eyeing my regalia. Some of that relief was dissipating, that line back again. “I don’t feel comfortable with you going out without a chaperone.”
I bit back my response. Georgy boy was just as likely to ditch me and get a blow job in a stall at a place like Apothecary, but in the end, that would probably work in my favour. George was cool. He was put in a shit situation and he made the best of it and he was nothing if not loyal. He’d chosen to chaperone me at each Omega Ball, even when I shunned the rest of the non-compulsory events.
“OK, did you want him riding in the car with Orion and me, or is meeting us there sufficient?” I asked the reflection in the mirror.
“Meeting there should be fine.” It wasn’t. I watched her thumbs hover over her phone in indecision. My mother was ice cold in the boardroom, with nerves of fucking steel. Something like this shouldn’t derail her. “The Ratcliffe boy will have a driver, won’t he?”
And therefore a de facto chaperone.
“I suppose so. Can’t see him driving himself.”
“And those clothes.” She watched me pick out a well-worn pair of black jeans, my romper stomper boots, and a silky black sleeveless top that had a choker neckline, the broad band fitting tightly around my neck, clipped together with press studs. “Cyn, I bought all those new pieces from Madam Colette.”
“Which I will wear in the morning, I promise, Mum. I’m going to a club. As fabulous as Col’s creations are, they aren’t club clothes. I’ll look like an idiot if I wear pearls and a twin set.”
Which was exactly the right thing to say. We were new, new, new money, and so that made us both powerful and insecure about where we fit in this new world. I didn’t care, but Mum, she did. So she watched me tease out my hair until it was a riot of lazy black waves and then nodded, answering the phone when George rang back.
“He said it’s fine, he’ll meet you there,” Mum told me when she ended the call.
I’d clumped downstairs, feet now laced up in my boots, to grab something solid to eat. I didn’t tell her about my missed breakfast or the fast food on the way home, just sat down and ate the casserole she’d made like we were any other family. But then I heard the toot of a car horn. I scraped my bowl clean, put it in the dishwasher, and then went for the door.
“Isn’t he going to come in? I’d like to meet the boy. I’ve but—”
“Mum, we haven’t even been on a date yet. We’re just feeling things out, seeing how things go. His scent is glorious and we seem compatible, but who knows? Maybe he likes to spend every Sunday watching the footy and will expect me to crouch down on all fours and be his footstool.” Mum paled at that. “I’m just joking. If things seem like they’re getting serious, I’ll bring him in to meet you. Deal?”
“Deal.”
And with that, I swung down the steps and out into the darkness, the cool air on my skin, the sound of night bird calls settling something inside me as I walked up to the shining black car.
There was no waiting driver, no one to open my door for me and usher me in, and when I opened the passenger side door, Orion’s eyes rolled my way, pausing for a second to take in my outfit.
“You said wear anything,” I said sheepishly.
“Fuck, I’m gonna have to keep you close tonight.” His eyes met mine, boring into them, not letting me look away. “You’ll stay by my side, omega, you hear me? Not two steps in front, not two steps behind. With me at all times.”
I snickered at the OTT act. I guessed if Miranda Rhodes’ daughter got nabbed by one of the alpha gangs that ran the slums on his watch, the papers would have a field day.
“Get in and put your seatbelt on.”
“Yes, Dad,” I said in a singsong voice, sliding in and wriggling my butt a little at the plush feel of the seats.
“And stop doing that. It’s distracting.”
“Can’t you save the bossy, possessive shit for when we have an audience?” I said with a grin, grabbing onto the ‘oh shit’ bar because I had a feeling I knew how this was going to go.
Sure enough, he threw that bad boy into gear, taking off with a tyre squeal that must’ve had the neighbours twitching at their curtains, but for some reason, I didn’t give a shit. No society event, no pressure from other alphas, no bullshit. Orion had suggested this arrangement to help him and his boys, but I was beginning to see how this would work for me too. We parked in some kind of exclusive parking garage under the club, a fob and an eye scan required to get in, but once out of the car, Orion was true to his word.
Dressed much as he had been this morning in a black button-down left untucked, a thin tie wrenched loose around his neck, and black jeans that displayed his powerful thighs to perfection, he slung a heavy arm around me, pulling me in close so my head was almost nestled against his chest. That was how everyone saw us as we stalked up to the front door, past the line and red velvet rope, the bouncers nodding our way as we walked. Then we were in Apothecary. I freed myself as he chatted with someone at the door, walking over to the metal railing that held you back from plummeting down the several floors of craziness below.
Trapeze artists performed in the massive open space, performing tricks around elaborately bound naked figures, the red ropes showing off their various charms to perfection. Dancers hanging from cages, moving on podiums on the ground floor, filling each floor, gyrating to the beat—a beat the BDSM practitioners followed, spanking and paddling their subs until they safed out and were replaced by new willing victims.
“Close your mouth,” Orion ordered, moving in and taking up position by my side, his arm a burning weight across my back.
“Does it really hurt them?” I asked, unable to take my eyes away from one couple. He was a huge hulking figure, the black leather executioner’s mask he wore only showing his full lips, tipped up in a smile.
“It hurts them,” Orion answered. “For some people, that’s when the endorphins kick in, making pain seem like pleasure.”
I frowned at that, shifting against the pressure of his arm. It felt like an itch I couldn’t scratch.
“For others, it’s the headfuck of it all. She’s his entire focus, something she’ll never get in any other situation. To get that, she’ll let him do almost anything.”
“It’s about attention?” I jerked back, instinctively repelled, but he held me where I was, not budging, and therefore neither was I.
“You make that sound small, mean.” His eyes met mine. “But what’s small about that? About wanting to be your lover’s entire focus. To have them gorging themselves on you—on your reactions, your responses, your pleasures, and yes, your pain. It’s the most insanely intimate thing two people can do, share attention. Fucking can be no more than wanking in a hole, but this? It’s much harder to be masturbatory in a scene.”
Ulp. A big arse frog had somehow jumped into my throat, and I struggled to swallow him down.
“I said there were three others you’ll need to play girlfriend with, and you’re about to meet them. I’ve discussed the plan with them. Some are more onboard with that than others. Now, we’re going to walk down the stairs and over to the office just there.”
On the far wall, down a level, was a long squat room with a rectangular window running along it that would give the occupants a panoramic view of what was happening in the club.
“Now, we’re about to see and be seen, so if we’re to uphold our side of the bargain, that means making you look like the perfect little omega in a big bad club. You’ll drape yourself over me, and then we’ll go and meet my mates.”
It was a command, but it was a mild one—one I could ignore, but I didn’t. That was what we did, didn’t we? Looked to alphas to make decisions for us, to take the worry away. But the problem was I didn’t know how to do what he wanted, my eyes flicking around the club, looking for models of what he was talking about. There were women on men’s laps, women winding their arms around their partners’ necks, women that looked more liquid than solid, but I couldn’t see how I would walk like that. Instead, I turned to him, not saying a word, but he saw my frustration there.
“For a minute there, I was your entire focus, wasn’t I?” he asked with a faint smile. “You looked around the room for cues on how to do what I asked. You didn’t see them as people, as attractive or unattractive, there was only me.”
He was delivering a lesson here, his voice cool and calm, but his expression? He stared at me, his brows shifting, like he couldn’t look away.
Don’t get swept away by the bullshit, I told myself. There’s no sex marathon in a stately home on your horizon.
He held out his arm and then said, “Move in closer, mould your body in against mine. Feel the weight of it, my arm, my ribcage. It creates a safe space for you, one where you can let go and let me…”
“Let you what?” I asked, but it came out all hushed and breathy, which I was sure he barely heard over the noise.
“Give me control. You resist, but it’s part of who you are. Let me take you to the office to meet my mates looking like the most malleable of omegas, and others will watch.” I buried my face in his chest, something that felt insanely intimate to do with someone I’d only just met, but when his hand went to the back of my neck, stroking the skin under my mane of hair, I didn’t care. “When you surrender is when you are the most beautiful. Those who watch us will see you doing it in a range of scenarios. You’ll just need to choose which one. Ready, omega?”
It was a question that wasn’t really one as he wrapped his arm around me and led us down the stairs. The sights and the spectacles all just blew by without really being seen, despite the crazy sounds and shouts I heard. He was right—I was in that omega headspace, could only feel the shift of him against me, the beat of his heart, the way our bodies moved together in perfect synchronisation. There was no me or him, only us.
In just a simple little move, with only a few words, Orion had managed to introduce me to a side of myself I’d never experienced, like doors opening to a whole other wing of the house I’d lived in all my life.
But of course, doors that are opened can also be closed.
We walked inside, the soft snick of the door and muffled sounds making my eyes flick open again. It was the stiffening of his body that had me freezing, then moving to pull out of his grip. But he held me where I was, a vibrating tension there now between us where there had been only accord.
“So this is her?”
That voice, I knew it, the harsh purr sliding up my spine, feeling like another hand on my neck. But would it stroke or squeeze? My eyes flicked sideways, taking them in with one quick glance. Marcus was a man now, as evidenced in the heavy set of his shoulders, those big strong hands forming a steeple. The Renaissance angel prettiness had hardened, becoming something much more brutal, which showed in his endless stare.
“Well, she’s fucking hot.” The russet haired boy had grown up too and was now the second tallest of all of them, that spare frame more than filled out, the old T-shirt he wore stretching over a broad chest. “So how far are we gonna take this? Because I, for one, want to see her stretched out over a pommel horse, strapped down and stroked until the slick runs down her thighs. She’ll get plenty of alpha attention that way.”
“We’re not doing that, Bren.”
That was all the sandy haired one said, that big body having swollen to become almost a caricature of an alpha. He was the tallest, the biggest, and he stood behind Marcus’ chair like a knight of old.
“No, we’re not,” Marcus agreed. “Not unless she asks very, very nicely. And signs a waiver.” The heat of his gaze dropped to the desk before him, fingers moving through the paperwork but not actually selecting any of it. “She’s the daughter of Miranda Rhodes. She doesn’t play with anyone or anything inside this club without one.”
“Before we jump straight into the kink negotiations, maybe introductions would be in order?” Orion said. “Omega, the red headed fucker over there is Brendan, Marcus is acting all lord of the manor there, and tall, fair, and mostly silent is Rhys. Boys, meet our temporary omega, Cyn.”
“Well, by her name, she’ll fit right into this dump,” Brendan said with a chuckle, but when he turned back to face me, something vulnerable appeared and disappeared, shoved to one side. “Nice to meet you, love. I won’t take too much of your time, just need you to turn up to a few family dos. They’ll be wetting their pants, me turning up with a high-class omega like you. That work for you?”
He seemed loose, chill, his smile at the ready, but that last sentence held enough alpha steel to have me answering.
“Sure. We’ll swap numbers, and I’ll fit them into my calendar.”
He smiled in response, but it wasn’t a happy thing. Then he turned to Marcus.
“I’ll need more.” He let those words sink in, let me imagine all that that might entail until finally he clarified. “This is my club, so any omega I’m considering making mine would need to make regular appearances here. There’s also some…other engagements I’ll require.”
Which I should have interrogated, drilled down into before I agreed to anything, but of course, I didn’t. I later blamed it on the thick stench of alpha pheromones in the room overwhelming me, but for the first time, I started to understand the girl in the forest. Being near the four of them was like a punch to the gut, every single little gesture and word slamming into me, reminding me of what I was.
Omegas submitted, omegas surrendered, omegas gave themselves entirely to alphas in ways betas couldn’t. I’d been in more rooms than I could count of alphas that expected just that, but never, never wanted to follow through.
Until now.
My knees sagged slightly, Orion gripping me harder to keep me upright.
“Easy, omega. No one’s going to hurt you.”
He misunderstood completely, but I didn’t have the words to correct him, breathing rapidly through my mouth, which just drew more of their scent inside me.
“And this is Rhys,” Marcus continued, turning to stare at the shaggy haired man, his mouth twisting into something mirthless at what Orion had said. “He won’t say much or want much. He’ll be your easiest assignment, but…” He leaned forward, eyes sharpening, stabbing into me. “I expect you to follow through on anything he does ask for, within reason of course. It’s all four of us or none. That’s how it always works. We’ll give you what you need, and you give us what you want. You in, omega?”
It felt like time stood still, that my heartbeat followed the same manic beat of the music outside. I was standing on the precipice, on the edge of the top floor, but it was up to me if I was going to climb over the barrier that stopped me from falling.
I should’ve said no. Really, I should’ve. I’d done courses on negotiations and consent, I knew it was in my best interests as an omega to hammer all the details out, but I didn’t. I nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for them.
“Use your words, omega,” Orion prompted.
“Yes.” The word seemed to cut through the air of the room like a knife, dissipating a tension I hadn’t even realised existed.
“Well, all right,” Marcus said, leaning back in his chair. “Now, O, does she know exactly what the deal with us is?”
“She guessed it quick enough at the party,” he replied, moving me forward and depositing me in a chair, a whine rising and being smothered by me when he pulled away. He crossed the floor, tugging off his tie and dropping it on the desk before perching on the edge on Marcus’ side. They both looked at me for just a second, but their focus was on each other soon enough. And so was the other guys’.
“Oh fuck…” Brendan groaned as Orion bent down, tipping Marcus’ lips up so he could take them. They kissed glacially slowly, like they had to do this carefully. Two apex predators making themselves vulnerable to the other, it took some effort.
But it was worth it, everyone in the room seemed to get that. The hunger, that same fucking desperation from the forest, it had grown, been refined by years of being bound together. Brendan moved closer, hand rubbing the massive lump in his jeans, the other sliding to the back of Orion’s neck in a possessive, dominant hold.
“Breathe, omega.” I looked up and saw Rhys had appeared by my side, looking down at me with what could’ve been concern. It was hard to tell, his responses were so muted. But our eyes were drawn back to the three of them as if on automatic, because who wouldn’t? I frowned, wanting to shrink backwards, the savage hunger with which they tasted each other’s mouths so alien as to seem like another species.
And perhaps they were, alphas. But it appeared I was going to get a crash course in their care and feeding.
“Good omega,” Rhys purred, sliding a hand down my neck, making me feel for a moment that it was Brendan’s on Orion’s, and with that came a disturbing referred pleasure.