Good Girl by Sam Hall

Chapter 8

“Then we better see what our little omega likes,” Marcus said brightly.

“Slowly,” Rhys insisted.

“Someone’s protective instincts have been activated,” Brendan replied in a singsong voice. “It’s all right, big guy, we’re not gonna push her in ways she can’t handle. That’s for the other dickheads fawning over her hand.”

“They’re going slowly as well,” Rhys growled back. “Everyone is. You’ve just bombarded her with your scents, the sight of all of you coming, your orders, and this fucking club.”

“Jesus, I forget your little brother’s an omega,” Brendan replied. “His mate got any hot, single alpha buddies that would meet your high standards?”

“No, and it’s not Rhys’ standards that matter—it’s Cyn’s,” Orion said.

He reached out for my hand, taking it and drawing me upright, and suddenly, the feel of them wasn’t so oppressive. I couldn’t match them for height, but I wasn’t such a small presence as when I was sitting down.

“We’re just going to parade you through the club,” Marcus explained, much more calmly now, the devil riding him apparently having dismounted and someone much more prudent now holding the reins. “That’ll get you more attention than any of the soirees you intended to go to. You’ll get invites pouring in, to the secret season.”

“The secret season?” I said, screwing up my face.

“You know how this shit works,” Orion said. “Money gets you some places, privilege and breeding gets you others, and Apothecary?”

“It’ll get you in any damn place you want,” Marcus finished. “The rich, the powerful, the dissolute, the damaged.” A low growl from the others had him stopping. “Well, maybe not those last two. The rich omega sons and daughters don’t trot around the official season events like good little beasts. They go to some to be seen, but mostly, it’s the secret season—parties you can only get into if you know the right people. We know the right people. So…”

He held out an arm for me, not moving to pull me away from Orion, more sandwiching me in between the two alphas, something that I couldn’t hold my reaction back to. The calm that had been restored in the room quickly fractured.

“Jesus, her scent…” Brendan growled. “Is this what omegas do all the time? Because fuck, I don’t know if I can play nice.”

“No,” Marcus replied, something arch in his voice. “They don’t. They always smell fucking delicious, like tempting little treats quivering on the shelf, just waiting for the big bad alpha to—”

“Marcus.” Rhys’ voice was definite.

“But they smell especially good, Brendan, when their little cunts, boy or girl, start clenching. Something about being boxed in by all these alphas is setting our girl aflutter?”

Fuck, he was right. Like really, really right. Those casual, possessive touches they couldn’t seem to stop bestowing upon me, the massive presence of all of them. I’d been in similar circumstances before. Crowding an omega, trying to banish all her worries and thoughts and replace it with themself was a time-honoured alpha seduction technique. But they weren’t attempting to seduce me, and their scents weren’t an acidic blast to my nose, forcing me back and away from them.

“You’re OK, omega,” Rhys said, that same hand rubbing down my spine now in what I assumed was supposed to be a reassuring thing.

And it was, but calming an omega was a form of flirting that alphas didn’t seem to understand. I had barely shared ten words with the guy, but the water, the stroking hand, the care… It made me imagine a much more intimate setting, where he held my hair in his fist and called me a good girl as I—

I clenched my jaw, forced my head up, and faced this down like any other fight.

“I’m an omega, of course I’m going to perfume,” I replied with a snap, something that had the four men jolting, then straightening up. “You’re all fucking hot, something you’re well aware of, and if you think seeing you rub cocks together was going to change that, you’re really wrong. I’ve gotten myself off with a couple of dildos and the hardworking men of gay Pornhub more times than I can count. Alpha men are always fucking hot, so putting several of them in a room with a lot of lube and an omega…”

This was met with a shifting of their bodies, the circle around me growing smaller as their growls leaked out. Not sure what was yanking their tails, talks of orgasms, dildos, or porn, I don’t know, but their alpha instincts were riding them hard.

Which didn’t mean I had to compensate for that. Orion was right—our surrender was prized, was what made us unique and sought after all over the world, but maybe, just maybe, some of these growly bastards could use all that aggressive energy to show that they were worthy of it.

That was it, my eyes went out of focus. I could see him, a tall, muscular blur right now, but maybe that would change once we got out of this bloody room that reeked of alpha pheromones and the echoes of their cries of pleasure.

“I don’t look like an omega and I probably don’t sound like one, but I’m not that different. I want someone strong enough to protect me, strong enough to handle me at my worst, someone who’ll take the hits and keep on coming. I want a hand on the back of my neck, not because I’m being claimed and owned, but because he can’t keep his fucking hands off me, because touching me is needed as much as breathing. I want his nose against my neck, sucking my scent in greedy mouthfuls. I want his teeth in my skin as he fucks me hard, reassuring me I can take his knot as I do just that.”

I wavered slightly, the words coming out in a big forbidden rush, spewed out for strangers who couldn’t give two shits about what I had to say, who needed me to be a wall between them and society’s prejudices against alphas. My therapist called them a breakthrough when they came, these great big messy speeches, and god, didn’t I wish I was inside her office right now.

Or not. Hands reached out, settling the rattled omega. Our responses were hard-wired so they couldn’t stop themselves if they’d tried, and for a few seconds, I felt those long, reassuring strokes and pretended I had everything I wanted.

But I didn’t.

I opened my eyes slowly, spoke to the floor when I did.

“That’s what I want. If you can find me that in your den of iniquity, then show me, because I’ve been waiting for a fucking long time for it.”

“Fuck…” Marcus hissed. “We need to—”

“Shut up, Marcus.” Orion’s voice was cool and clipped, every inch the boy born to rule. “Take the omega’s arm in yours and escort her out into your den. An omega’s told us what she wants. We’re the alphas, it’s on us to provide.”

And so I was swept out, head swimming but footsteps sure. I had no such hopes for finding what I was looking for in Apothecary, but I was taking the first steps, wasn’t I? The first towards my new future.