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I open the door and step out. The sidewalk is lit with neon lights, casting vibrant colors on the pavement. The club’s large red door stands out against the dark brick building, beckoning potential patrons inside.
The air is heavy with the scent of alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. Mixed in with that is the occasional whiff of perfume and cologne. All of that hides the scent of an omega, which I thank the stars for.
The club’s music spills out onto the sidewalk, a mix of bass heavy beats and indistinguishable lyrics. The occasional shouts and laughter from inside blend with the noise of passing cars and the distant sounds of the city.
The line is wrapped around the building. Willow marches us straight to the front. The bouncer takes one look at her and waves us in, just like that. Willow really is a badass.
I have so many questions. The first being, just who is Willow?
The moment we step inside, the club assaults my senses. The air is a thick soup of alcohol, sweat, and pheromones, while the pulsing beat of the music reverberates through my body like a second heartbeat. Neon lights slice through the darkness, momentarily blinding me as they sweep across the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but it feels like I’m drowning in sensory overload.
I instantly hate it, but we are here for Dash and the pack.
“Come on, let’s get a drink,” Willow says, leading me to the bar, her hand raised high. She somehow pushes through a bunch of people without blinking. “Something fruity and fun!” she shouts.
I look around for the guys, but there are so many people in here that I can’t see them, until I glance at the stage. There’s a DJ in the corner, but my attention is immediately drawn to the small stage, where Silver Strings is setting up.
There’s Dash, his dirty blond mullet shining under the stage lights, looking every inch the rock star. The rest of the world fades away as I watch him, my heart doing a little flip in my chest. He looks amazing, with confidence radiating off him as he tunes his guitar.
Willow clutches my hand, grabbing my attention, and passes me a drink, then she leads me through the club to a staircase, which instantly eases my tension. It’s way too crowded down there, and I can feel my heart trying to beat out of my chest as I bite back my memories.
“Can you believe this is happening?” Willow shouts over the noise of the crowd.
I shake my head in disbelief. I swore to myself I would never enter a bar again, and yet somehow, here I am, in a club.
Willow nudges me as she leads us to a small booth right next to the VIP section. “See? This is fun.”
I nod, taking a generous sip. Fun for an extrovert with sadistic tendencies, maybe. The alcohol warms me from the inside out, but it can’t quite drown out the anxiety gnawing at my insides. I’m here for Dash, I remind myself, even as every instinct screams at me to run. I focus on my breathing, trying to stay calm, which is about as easy as herding cats while blindfolded.
I focus on the stage, the smoke, and the laser lights. It’s a lot to take in.
Dash steps up to the mic, and everything else fades away. “Hey there, Red Door!” he shouts to the crowd. “Are you ready?”
He points the mic at the crowd. He’s a charmer, that’s for damn sure. “That’s what I fucking thought.” He winks, and I’m pretty sure every girl down there swoons.
I want to murder them all.
Omega rage is no joke.
He starts to play, his voice rich and powerful as it fills the room. I watch, mesmerized, as he loses himself in the music.
Just as I’m beginning to relax, someone bumps into our table, spilling my drink. I look up to see an alpha, towering and intimidating, and panic claws at my chest.
The alpha leers at me, his eyes raking over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Hey there, sweet girl,” he slurs, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Why don’t you come dance with me?”
I shrink back into the booth, my heart pounding. Memories of that night flash through my mind—rough hands, cruel laughter, and pain. My lungs seize up, refusing to cooperate, while my mind becomes a jumbled mess of half formed thoughts and primal fear.
Willow steps between us, her stance protective. “Back off, asshole,” she snaps out, her voice like steel. “She’s not interested.”
The alpha snarls, his eyes flashing red, a predatory gleam that sends ice through my veins. “Mind your own business, beta bitch,” he rumbles, his words slurring together. “This is between me and that omega.” He jabs a finger at me, and I can almost feel the weight of his gaze, pinning me in place like a butterfly to a board.
I freeze like Bambi’s mama. I know I’m in danger, but there isn’t shit I can do about it.
Willow doesn’t flinch. She meets his gaze head-on, her stance reminiscent of a seasoned fighter rather than a typical beta. “I said back off. Now.” There’s a steel in her voice that I’ve never heard before, and for a moment, I wonder just how much I really know about my new friend.
For a tense moment, they stare each other down, then, miraculously, the alpha backs away, muttering curses under his breath. Willow watches him go, her body still tense and ready.
I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Thank you, I need to get out of here,” I whisper to Willow, my voice shaking.
