Page 9 of The Omega

It was made worse by the social media polls and rankings that swayed in my favor.

Everyone loves a star.

Though it’d been a few months since I was in the spotlight. Ever since I’d claimed my territory, it’d gotten harder to accept roles for acting gigs or to use my gymnastic talents to pop into guest spots on the circuits. Running a pack felt like putting out one fire after another. I hardly ever got a break from my new Alpha duties.

Growing older sucked.

“Alright, that’s enough,” I told the cameras as I straightened my suit jacket, heading to the bar.

Let them put some other Alpha on display and take the attention off my back.

I needed a drink.

“What’ll it be, Alpha Bailey?” The bartender stood at attention.

“Just call me Dorian.” I motioned to the bottle of cheap rum behind him. “Make it hurt.”

He nodded as he poured me a double. I cocked my thumb for a little more. My new favorite human in this joint hooked me up.

“Well, if it isn’t Dorian Bailey.” The old wolf shifter, Jay Renfro, clapped me on the back. “How are they treating you this season?”

I swallowed some rum before turning to glare at him. “This is your gig. Don’t you have the script?”

“You know how it is.” He sighed as he leaned against the bar, smiling for the nonexistent crowd as he lowered his voice, “They don’t tell me shit.”

“Figures.” I snorted, wondering if all producers liked to keep everyone out of the loop.

Ken Damar was the human producer this season who replaced some woman named Molly from last year. I’d scented a little magic on Ken, but he was still solidly human-skinned.

We’d formed a working relationship, but that only went so far. I wasn’t sure how much control he had versus Mike, the director, and the corporate hounds watching the show’s every move this season.

“Speaking of sharing secrets,” Jay continued. “Which of these lovely ladies has caught your eye?”

“Is this off camera?” I looked him over, seeing the microphone clipped to his chest.

He covered it with his palm and nodded.

“Still looking,” I said with a smile. “Anything else you want to know?”

Jay rolled his eyes, but he kept up that actor’s disarming grin. “I was wondering if your aunt said anything.”

“About you?” I chuckled. “Nope. You’ve burned that bridge.”

“Is she performing anymore?” he asked, like he’d grace us with his presence and come see her on stage.

I hadn’t seen Jay Renfro come around the circus since long before we stopped traveling. He’d gotten too big for us, and Aunt Sunny had rightfully written him off. Now he was lonely and washed up and a little pathetic. But he’d helped me score a spot on the show, negotiating enough pay to help me out with some things back home, so I owed him one.

“Sometimes they do a local gig just for fun, but the main operation is shut down,” I said.

I wasn’t sure if it’d ever be like it once was. Part of me thought that was okay. They were getting older now. It was time for them to settle down.

Our troupe had been unique, made up of mostly shifters, and had traveled the continent throughout the years, earning a loyal following. Bailey Pack was a pack of talented nomads. Not just circus acts, but artists and thespians who shone brightest on stage. But the road was harsh and took its toll. We needed a territory. An Alpha.

Hence the reason for my birth.

“Benson’s gone for good?” Jay asked, as if he needed the confirmation that it was safe to come sniffing around again.

Benson was the other reason I’d been born.