Good Girl by Sam Hall
Chapter 9
Marcus hadn’t lied. The club was packed full of people fucking, fighting, drinking, snorting, watching, stroking, dancing, singing… The wallpaper of humanity’s pursuit of pleasure was alienating and fascinating by turns, but it was the focus turned our way that grabbed at my attention, every single one of them, or so it felt. I walked out, a precious little omega surrounded by her alpha harem, their bodies shielding me from sight. Which made them want to look more, didn’t it? Orion was right—by placing a barrier around me, it made me infinitely more desirable.
“So into the playrooms?” Marcus suggested, that feline purr back, a sidelong look at me. “Sure to find out what gets our omega perfuming in there.”
“Too much, too soon,” Brendan said. “We have to meet with Len and his gang, so let’s kill two birds with one stone. Let them into the high rollers room, put the cat among the pigeons. There’s some big knobs there that need knocking down a peg or two, and you’ll earn some loyalty from Len, giving him access to them. We meet him at the card table, where there’s not so many scents or sounds to set the omega off and plenty of blue bloods to put her in front of. Beat ’em at cards, display an unmarked omega, and let Len scoop the winnings?”
“You’re not just a pretty face.” Marcus leaned over, pressing his mouth to Brendan’s in a gentle kiss the other man tried to prolong. “Notify security in the green room to alter Len and his gang’s access cards. Instruct them to search the boys well for weapons though. I can’t have gangland bullshit in the high roller room.”
Their fingers trailed apart as Brendan nodded and then took off, loping down the stairs and punching the button to one of the lifts.
“Brendan’s plan is a good one. We’re going with that.”
And so I was whisked off to another elevator, the four of us moving as one.
Weirdly,muzak played as the floors ticked by on the display. I wouldn’t have thought there were that many levels, but Apothecary obviously had hidden depths. But it wasn’t “The Girl From Ipanema” that had my attention. My mother, most omega’s mothers, would have been horrified at the position I was in right now—a lone omega and three unmarked alphas in an enclosed space. Reputations had been lost for less, which made my eyes stray to Rhys’ collar, then Marcus’.
“We’re marked,” Marcus replied with a slow smile. “Just not where you think. Doesn’t have the same effect as it does with you, locking us down, repelling others.” I thought of those tattoos and wondered at that. Were they their mating marks, taken on so young? But of course, I wasn’t supposed to know about them. “I wanted something flashier, more conspicuous, but—”
“Marcus,” Orion growled.
“But pony boy there can’t make those kinds of commitments,” Marcus shot back.
“Why not? Like, I get the poly thing is maybe a big deal for your family, but you’re adults now. If your dad is that worked up about the harem thing, why not mate a male omega? You wouldn’t have to look too hard to find someone who’d be prepared to be a trophy husband in name only, as long as he became a Ratcliffe. He’d stay out of you and your boys’ business, get you off the whole mating train thing.” I squinted my eyes as I looked at Orion, feeling the pain build. “You’d be free.”
“Yes, why haven’t we taken our own little omega, Orion?” Marcus asked sharply.
“Can’t,” Rhys replied bluntly. “They have to want all of us. Whoever we bring in is ours, all of ours.”
Yeah, OK, that was always going to be harder. They were four very different men, and alphas weren’t exactly flexible. They were probably bending as far as they could to reach for each other.
“Is that something you want me to try and help with? Connect you with male omegas? I know a few unmated ones, but I could put the word out—”
“Enough, Cyn,” Orion said gently. “What you’re doing is more than enough.”
“For now,” Marcus added as the doors rolled open. He took my hand, dragging me forward into a huge room that would have The Great Gatsby spontaneously orgasm on the spot. None of the grungy feral aesthetic of the club itself, this version of Apothecary was all Art Deco elegance.
“Sir?”
A beautiful beta dressed up in a glitzy little dress teetered over on stilt-like heels, the broad choker around her neck and wrists embossed with more crystals, meant to signal her as something else altogether. Well, that and the demure glance our way. She held out a tray with squat glasses filled with Scotch, Marcus taking one, the others moving to claim theirs, and I took Brendan’s, earning me a sidelong look from all of them. I gave it a swill, sticking my nose in to breathe in the rich peaty smell, before tossing it back.
Omegas weren’t supposed to like strong tastes and smells, and definitely not drinks like Scotch, but the burn as it went down my throat felt all too similar to the pulsing throb of a heat when it was upon me. And this at least faded all too quickly.
“What?” I said with an impish smile.
“Keep the Scotch coming,” Marcus instructed his waitress. “Brendan and some of my associates will be up in the high roller room momentarily. Actually, just bring a bottle and some glasses.”
“Right away, sir.”
“Like I said before, omega. Not two steps behind.” Orion stepped in front of me, that low, silky voice sounding like it should be used for things other than bloody warnings. “If you need to go to the toilets, you’ll be taking several of our waitresses with you. No missteps. There are sharks here, they just wear Brooks Brothers rather than fins.”
“I’ve got her.”
Rhys shouldered in closer, wrapping his arm around me and tugging me close. Jesus, the massive size of him turned my bones to jelly. I always felt small next to an alpha, but he was so damn big, his boys would get a sense of how I felt when he was with them.
When he was with them.
My all too active imagination threw up a variety of scenarios in response to that, each fucking hotter than the next.
“Jesus, the Scotch is making her flush,” Marcus ground out. “This is gonna be pure fucking torture. You better be right, with this plan of yours.”
“Of course it is,” Orion replied. “My last one got us this. We’re close, Marcus, so fucking close to end game. Just keep the faith.”
My flustered complexion wasn’t going to clear any time soon, not when he reached out to Marcus, the distance between them an aching chasm over which he stroked his lover’s cheek.
“Always.” With one word, Marcus threw off the mask of mocking indifference and they were just two boys, standing in a spotlight, each looking at the other with love. “Well, I guess it’ll only help us if she’s flooding the room with her perfume. It’ll keep all those fucking bastards off balance and advertise her wares to everyone there.”
“But not Len and his crew,” Rhys grumbled. “You need to make fucking clear what the consequences of him trying to poach her would entail.”
“I’m not an idiot. She might not be our omega, but she has to be protected,” Marcus snapped. “C’mon, let’s make our entrance.”
That sounded all too dramatic,but damn, once we skirted the main gaming room, walking up a short set of richly carpeted stairs towards a cordoned off area that was policed only by a couple of beta waitstaff and social convention, it felt like the room went still. With deeply polished wood panelling, thick carpets, small tables covered with cards and chips, it looked more like an old aristocratic men’s club than a gambling room, but there were more than just men here. There were betas for sure, who in some ways had an advantage, looking more circumspect and not giving away what they thought and felt with their scents. But alphas, so many fucking alphas, I struggled to take a full breath.
Wood—sandalwood, oud, cedar, patchouli and vetiver. Musk—ambergris, civet. Leather, smoke, peat, pepper, basil, cardamon, bergamot, neroli. All the different scents slammed into me as I forced my legs to keep moving, eyes following my wobbly kneed prey walk. Cards were set aside, let to dip down, risking someone to take a look, chips falling from limp fingers that quickly tightened.
“This was a mistake,” Rhys said, tightening his grip around my shoulders. “It’s too much for her, and they look half fucking feral. They think she’s—”
“Ours.” Orion’s voice was definite as he swept in, taking his cues from what I’d said earlier and dragging his nose down my neck, then biting the skin there lightly. I gasped, my legs definitely giving up the ghost, but Orion pulled back, a completely alpha look of satisfaction on his face as he licked his lips theatrically. “Carry her if you have to.” His instructions now were terse and delivered softly. “Get her into our room and then close the door. Marcus will circulate and handpick who comes to the table.”
“I’ve got my laundry list for the perfect alpha,” Marcus replied, his calm cracking somewhat. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Just a few more steps. You can do that, can’t you?”
Orion used that alpha tone, one of deep belief and gentle encouragement, with devastating effectiveness. My feet followed his, lured deeper and deeper into the area until we reached a part that had been screened off by sliding doors. Once inside, I was swept up and deposited on Rhys’ lap as he sank into one of the richly upholstered chairs.
“Good girl,” he soothed. “You’re doing very well. Get the waitress to bring her a big carafe of water. Slamming down Scotch and this place? It’s too much for her.”
“Not too much,” I protested as my eyelids fluttered. I squirmed, trying to get up, but hands locked down around me, holding me exactly where I was. “I’m fine.”
“Of course you are. You’re the perfect little omega, but you’re going to lean back. That’s right, just like that. Lean back and stay here, because I will feel a helluva lot better when you do.”
“I’ve fucking heard you talk more tonight than I think I have any night, except that one time at graduation when we sat around smoking pot.” Orion looked down at us with a surprise that bordered on suspicion.
“Never really needed to,” Rhys replied, and I felt the deep rumble of his voice all the way down into my toes. “You guys always fill the fucking air with endless drivel.”
But Orion wasn’t listening, just looking down at the two of us, his brows twitching, but before he could say anything else, in they came. Men and women in knife sharp tailored suits, the waitress with our drinks, and then three men who did not look like they fit in here at all, almost the entire room tensing in response. Tall men in jeans and plaid shirts rolled up over strong forearms, they faced down the high rollers with gazes that bordered on belligerent.
“Len and his boys are associates of mine. The twenty-four-year-old Scotch you’re about to drink on the house came from him,” Marcus said, strolling in and flopping down next to Rhys, Orion sitting on our other side. “He’s got the magic touch with the cards, and I figured he could do with some real competition. Knock him down a peg or two.”
For a boy that grew up out in the ’burbs like I did, he had the lord of the manor schtick down pat. At those words, the challenge, the mood settled and everyone sat down.
“So…Len,” one of the high rollers said, “do you know how to play Texas Hold ’Em where you’re from?”
Nice. Sneery arsehole.
“Me and my boys can play any bloody game you want,” Len shot back with a growl, looking up when the waitress arrived and taking the Scotch offered. He downed it in one swig, the glass slamming on the circular table, and Rhys’ hand stroked through my hair in response. “Deal the fucking cards.”
“Well, Marcus, I have to say, the décor has certainly improved in here.” An alpha female, who had the look of a younger, hotter Morticia Adams, with long black hair pulled back into a low ponytail, looked me over with an assessing glance. “Though it was my impression that this kind of pretty was wasted on the four of you.”
I felt Rhys stiffen beneath me and assumed the other guys were doing the same, Brendan strolling in at that minute, sniffing the air and then sitting down beside Marcus.
“Is she on the table as well?” she asked.
I jerked my eyes up, using all of Kai’s training to meet her dark ones, feeling like I was dropping deeper and deeper into them the longer I stared, but that just made her chuckle. Resistance from me? That was just foreplay for alphas like her, but this? I hoped this was going to be all right, but if I was going to be a fake girlfriend, I may as well try and be the best fake girlfriend I could be.
When I turned to him, when I slid my hand along Rhys’ jaw, I tried as much as humanly possible to ask if this was OK before moving. He just stared, those pale blue eyes swallowing me, dragging me down into their icy depths. But there was something warm there, something bright and intense, and when I dipped closer, they dropped to inspect my lips all too thoroughly. Lips that were about to press against his. I was all furtive omega, feeling his breath fan over my skin, not daring to close the gap as my heart raced, until I did.
His hand sunk into my hair, dragging me in but waiting for me to make the final connection. I brushed my lips against his, feeling the glancing sensation of satin, tasting that with the tip of my tongue, and then that was it. His grip tightened almost to the point of pain, my hair pulled back tight and held fast as his mouth devoured mine.
Nipping, biting, hungry kisses, no doubt all that passion he’d had to hold back while he watched his lovers fuck, it was all dumped on me. And being an omega, I didn’t fucking care, since my physiology couldn’t discern a fake kiss from a real one. I just felt the ravages of an alpha teasing my lips open and plundering what he found inside, little mewls escaping my chest.
When he pulled back, I was panting like I’d run a mile in a minute, and so was he, all that reserve gone. Rhys was off the chain, cataloguing the way my mouth was bruised, my chest was heaving, and looking like he just wanted more.
“Well, well, you found someone who’s willing to accept your debauched little setup,” the woman said. “And who’s she? Some academy omega, still too wet behind the ears to know what she’s throwing away?”
“That’s Miranda Rhodes’ daughter,” one of the men in the suits said. “And if I wanted to talk about relationships and hear omegas whine, I’d be at home with my wife and bloody daughters,” he snapped.
“Does your mother know what you’ve gotten yourself into?” one of the older men asked, cocking an eyebrow but looking me over with interest.
“She will by the morning, I’m sure,” I shot back.
A hand grabbed mine, not Rhys’ but Marcus’, and when I looked down, he rubbed his thumb across my knuckles and faced down the table.
“This is precisely why omegas should not be allowed to evening events outside of the prescribed calendar,” the older man blustered. “Cynthia comes from a respectable family. She could do much better than you four.”
“My father doesn’t seem to think so,” Orion replied icily. “Would you care to share your views about a possible alliance between the Rhodes and the Ratcliffe families with him?”
“Your father has never sanctioned your union with these three and you know it. He bankrolled this place thinking you’d sow your wild oats, get this…” —a sidelong look at the boys— “out of your system. And now look where you are.”
“And look where you are—playing cards in my club, at my table, drinking my fucking Scotch,” Marcus shot back.
His grip on my hand tightened, pulling me into his lap, despite Rhys’ silent protest, and curling me against him, I felt like a little girl who’d somehow stumbled onto the adult’s table, thinking she was all grown up, but had been shown thoroughly how untrue that was. Marcus looked down at me, eyes still blazing, his lips set in a cruel line as he stared at mine. And then he kissed me, a sharp, hard, biting thing, and fuck me if I didn’t crave more. The warning lights inside me were flashing, some facsimile of the creepy robot from Lost in Space flailing his arms around. Danger, danger, danger. But his focus went back to the table quickly enough, letting me know he did not experience this the way I did.
“Criticising my omega.”
“She’s unmarked,” the woman snapped back.
His nose nudged at my jaw, forcing my neck to arch for him.
“For now. If you can seduce her away from us, make her a better offer, then you’ll do so in a respectful and honest way. As you pointed out, she does come from a good family. That shouldn’t make any difference, but somehow, I know the very real threat Miranda’s legal team poses to anyone who dallies with her daughter will stop the worst of your excesses. Now, as Christian said, we’re here to play cards. I’m assuming you’re all in?”
“Hello, am I too late to join the table?”
I looked up to see George strolling in through the door, his black suit lapels just that little bit sharper than anyone else around him.
“Get the man a chair and deal him in,” Marcus said.
I knewa fair amount about omega physiology. For a while there, that’s what Mum focussed on, educating herself and then me about everything there was to know about us. She told me about the spikes of arousal that came from our flighty amygdala kicking into gear way too fast, followed by a rapid decrease in fight-or-flight hormones once the danger or desire faded. I felt like I was an awkward lump, sitting across Marcus’ lap, but any subtle shift in movement on my part was soon quelled.
“Stay,” he growled into my ear, low enough only I would have caught it, and with that, my body went limp. I was trapped, curled against his chest, feeling my body move with his with every breath, his grip on his cards awkwardly one-handed. But I couldn’t bring myself to get off his lap, feeling a lassitude so soft and sweet, I ended up tucking my head into his chest and closing my eyes.
Just for a minute, I told myself. Just for a minute.
“Man,she doesn’t even snore. Not like you fucks.”
“Gentle. Be gentle. She must be trashed. This would’ve been a lot for an omega.”
“And now you’re the font of all omega wisdom? Where the fuck was that when we—”
“Shut up. We need to be careful. No getting attached.”
“Too late.” That came out as an ominous rumble.
“It’s just hormones and physiology pushing us together, wanting us to make more baby alphas and omegas.”
“So? I want those things. We wanted those things.”
“But we want each other more. Cullen was right—the best we could aspire to is some down on her luck academy girl that wasn’t snapped up straight away by the blue bloods, and we all know the likelihood of that happening. This will keep my father off our backs, allow me time to get him to see the returns on his investment.”
“Or you could mark her. He wants this deal, wants Miranda Rhodes’ company integrated with his. You bite her, and your inheritance is yours, free and clear. No more Daddy snooping—”
“Fuck, Marcus, that’s low, even for you. She’s a person, not a chess piece, and you fucking know it. Cradling her against your chest until she fell asleep, stopping Jeanette from getting her claws into her. You wanna play at being a hard man…”
“I’m a hard man for us. Everything we’ve built, everything we’ve created together… We were nothing back then, and now? It can’t slip through our fingers. It can’t.”
“See, that’s the difference. We could be back in that forest just after graduation, half naked and stinging from the slap that omega gave us as she ran off, and I wouldn’t give a shit. Fuck, I’d go back there and live in a hole under a tree if that’s what it took. I shut up after what happened last time, but she’s…she’s brought it all back. We need an omega.”
“You need an omega. All that protective bullshit has to go somewhere.”
A long silence, then the dull thud of two things colliding.
“You think I don’t protect you? Have your back against anyone? Stop people from coming for you? People you don’t even see. You’re mine to keep safe, same as the others. Always.”
“Always.” That was a chorus of voices.
“And while she’s with us, we protect her. That was always going to happen. It’s who we are. My father… We’ll find a way, and if Cyn’s on board with our plans, then she’s in, but that’s it. I’ll tell Father to sell every cent of his stock in this place at the sniff of anything else. I’m serious, Marcus. You’re mean when you’re cornered, but you don’t have to be.”
More silence. Heavier now.
“You’re right. Fuck… It just feels like it’s all slipping through my fucking fingers. All of it.”
“But we’re not, brother. We never will. We’ll always be together. Always.”