Beg Read online

  “Your name.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Then I’ll give you mine.” The man placed his drink on the table, and Lucian made the mistake of looking into his eyes. A quiet kind of interest sparked there. It wasn’t the overenthusiastic kind that drowned out rational thought and turned men into monsters, but something softer and more introspective. In that look, Lucian lost himself. The dark depths of the man’s gaze pinned him in place and made him feel small, yet infinite all at once. “Marcus Hayes.”

  “Marcus,” Lucian repeated, dumbfounded by the way a single look could make him feel. He ran his thumb along the creases of his fingers, gathering the condensation left there from the glass. The frigidity grounded him and helped him regain some control.

  Lucian smiled. “I’ll remember. Enjoy your night.”

  “I will. Good luck with your first weekend. I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines.”

  There’d been a time in Lucian’s life where he would have fallen to his knees and groveled in front of an alpha like Marcus Hayes, but tonight, he did something he’d never thought he could do in the face of temptation—he took a step back. Marcus’ cool, collected gaze widened with surprise, and Lucian’s smile turned into a grin. He broke eye contact with Marcus, then turned and headed back to the bar without looking back.

  Lucian’s heart hammered, and his pulse beat so loudly in his ears that he couldn’t hear the music anymore, but none of that mattered. He’d gone head to head with an alpha who made him weak in the knees and he’d come out of it in control not only of himself, but of the situation.

  The rush went right to Lucian’s head, and by the time he arrived back behind the bar, laughter clenched his throat and threatened to give him away.

  It was one thing to go through almost a year of inpatient therapy and go through safe, routine exposure treatments, but to apply what he’d learned to a real-life situation? Lucian couldn’t have been more proud of himself.

  “You’re back?” Clarissa sounded surprised.

  “Was I not supposed to be?”

  “No, you are, I just…” She looked toward the booth, then back at Lucian. Lucian watched as a grin broke out across her face. “I’m glad that you’re here. I think you’re starting to get the whole service aspect down, so I think it’s about time we got started teaching you how to pour drinks. We’re going to be swamped in a few more hours, and I’ll need all the help I can get.”

  “You got it.”

  Lucian stole one last look across the bar to booth five and ducked his head as the laughter finally made it to his face. At last, his future was in his own hands. The choices he made, he made for himself and no one else. If he decided to pursue something with Marcus—if—it would be of his own volition and on his own terms.

  The power of ‘no’ was intoxicating, and it was Lucian’s to wield however he wanted.

  6

  Marcus

  Doing it right is more important than doing it quickly.

  Marcus folded his hands around his drink. Doing it right may have been important, but knowing that didn’t do anything to temper his desire.

  The omega would be his.

  For a while that evening, Marcus watched him from where he sat. He took his second bourbon slowly, savoring the smooth taste. Patience wasn’t his best virtue, but he knew that if he wanted to pursue the omega at the bar, he’d need to exercise it.

  If.

  Marcus’ fingers traced along the glass in his palm. The if still ate at him. After all this time, wasn’t that what he wanted? Something new. Something outside of the ordinary.

  Something forbidden.

  All of it lined up.

  Crawford had advised him that monotony was what was killing his drive and making him lose interest. There was nothing monotonous about taking one of Clarissa’s bartenders to bed and shaping him into the kind of partner Marcus preferred—if he needed to be shaped at all. It took a certain kind of person to work in a place like The Shepherd, and Crawford had an inkling that the omega wasn’t the innocent creature Clarissa made him out to be.

  There was only one way to find out.

  Marcus watched the omega carry a tray of drinks into one of the public rooms, momentarily disappearing from sight. When he came back, his cheeks were flushed. Marcus wouldn’t have noticed the slight discoloration in the pale light if he hadn’t been looking for it.

  He found it curious.

  The omega was sure enough of himself to tell Marcus no, but he was still bashful enough to get flustered over the small things. How rosy would those cheeks burn if Marcus whispered in his ear all the depraved things he could see them doing?

  The fantasy lingered with him for the rest of the night, reinforced every time the omega glanced his way. It was another standard night at The Shepherd, but for Marcus, it was anything but ordinary. For the first time in years, he found himself excited for what was to come.

  “What’s your name?” Marcus murmured to himself after the last of the bourbon passed his lips. He set the glass back down on the table, the clink of glass against wood drowned out by distant music and the swelling roar of conversation.

  He would find out.

  It wasn’t a question of if—it was a question of when.

  Marcus shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it carefully in his closet before he addressed any of his other clothing. Button by button, he undid his shirt, then eased it from his shoulders. Shadows played across his chest—he hadn’t turned on the light when he’d come into the room.

  In silence he stripped, and when he was done, he moved to the side of his bed and sat.

  Doing it right was better than doing it quickly. He’d never felt that way before, but now he understood what Crawford meant. No one else had woken interest in him like that one omega had.

  Marcus would not rush things. The omega who’d caught his eye deserved better than that. But doing things right didn’t mean he couldn’t have fun while doing them.

  Marcus grinned into the darkness.

  It was time he got back into the saddle.

  7

  Lucian

  The memory of darkly intense eyes followed Lucian beneath the orange glow of street lights all the way to the locked door of his apartment building. The weightless, infinite feeling those eyes brought lingered even after Lucian had opened the door and made his way to his apartment. It was only when the front door was closed and locked behind him that Lucian let his shoulders slump. He emptied his lungs, exhaling until they stung, then scrubbed at his face and headed for the bathroom.

  The overhead light flicked on. Lucian squinted against it, then gave in and squeezed his eyes shut. He navigated to the sink by touch alone, gripping either side of it with his hands. Head hung, he dared to open his eyes in narrow slits.

  What had happened tonight was exhilarating, but it couldn’t keep going on. It couldn’t. The way Marcus’ eyes stuck with him for hours was too dangerous.

  If he kept looking at Lucian like that, it wouldn’t be long before Lucian’s no morphed into a now, and he couldn’t afford that. He’d taken the bartending job because he needed it, and he wasn’t going to let an alpha wrest control back from him now that he’d finally found his independence. Lucian was stronger than that. He’d fought harder for his freedom than most people could likely comprehend.

  If clients at The Shepherd were off-limits, he wouldn’t tempt fate. It didn’t matter how handsome Marcus Hayes was, or how he made Lucian’s pulse work overtime—Lucian wasn’t interested.

  Not now, and not for as long as he worked at The Shepherd.

  As Lucian’s eyes adjusted to the light, he opened them farther. He saw his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror and couldn’t help but frown. It was no wonder Marcus was all over him—he was glowing. Clear, stunning skin. Full lips. Dewy eyes. Hell, even his hair looked brighter than normal.

  Lucian scowled at himself, twisting his features until they were as ugly as they could be. Some of his natur
al beauty lingered, inescapable. Lucian pushed back from the sink and shook his head.

  It was the cusp of summer. Of course he was going to look like a vision of perfection.

  He was about to go into heat.

  It happened every six months like clockwork. Director Baylor, the man who’d run the brothel Lucian had called home, used to tell him that he was radiant before his heat because his body wanted to attract an alpha. Lucian still remembered the way the director had caressed his cheek and looked into his eyes, so intense and sincere on the surface that Lucian had never thought to doubt him.

  Beautiful flowers attract bees to pollinate them, Lucian. Beautiful omegas are no different.

  For a long time, he’d thought that was true. Now he knew better. He was meant for more in life than to be used for pleasure or to be kept as breeding stock. Lucian wasn’t a flower. He was a young man whose skill sets were as vast, varied, and valuable as anyone else’s, alpha or not.

  Marcus wouldn’t own him.

  Lucian pried the medicine cabinet door open and twisted the orange pill bottles inside until their labels faced the front. Before he’d left, Stonecrest had made sure that he was well-equipped to combat his heat from the comfort of his new home. Lucian wasn’t going to let it drag him down. He found the bottle he was looking for and popped the cap open. The pills inside were flat and round, a little smaller than the head of a pushpin. He shook one out of the bottle and swallowed it without water.

  Suppression medication, check.

  As long as he took the pills as directed, he wouldn’t need to worry about losing his mind to his heat, or about the scent of fertility that was sure to land him on an alpha’s radar. The pills weren’t perfect, and Lucian knew from his stay at Stonecrest that he’d still be horny beyond belief, but they took the edge off and let him function.

  Lucian put the bottle back and selected another one. Contraceptives. If he were to miss a dose of the suppression meds or end up in an unsavory situation, he didn’t want to end up pregnant. Not now. He was only starting to get a taste of freedom, and he wanted to live his life as fully as he could before he decided to become a father.

  Lucian popped a pill, put the pill bottle back, and closed the medicine cabinet. He scrutinized his face one last time in the mirror, then shook his head. It was about time he got to bed.

  With a yawn, Lucian flicked off the bathroom light and headed for his bedroom. He stripped and sank into bed, staring through the darkness as he processed what had happened that evening. It had been a full night spent serving men and women who’d eaten him up with their eyes, but who were always polite and respectful in conversation.

  Yet no matter how many conversations he revisited in the darkness of his room, only one returned to him again and again.

  Marcus.

  Lucian rolled over, wrapping the blankets around his body tightly. He’d been able to play it cool in The Shepherd, but at home? In retrospect? The way Marcus had looked at him ate Lucian up from the inside and left him uncertain about where he stood. He wanted Marcus to look at him. There was something inexplicable in Marcus’ gaze—something that had frozen Lucian from all the way across the room and made him shiver with anticipation. That same something came roaring back, sweeping through him as he remembered the intensity in Marcus’ eyes and the smooth, playful lilt in his voice.

  Lucian had said no in The Shepherd, but now that he was in bed, his body said yes.

  It was the onset of heat. It had to be the onset of heat. But that didn’t stop Lucian’s hand from winding its way down his torso and gripping the already hardened cock waiting there.

  What would have happened tonight if things had gone a different way? If he’d given Marcus his name and let things progress from there? Would he be in bed with a man he knew nothing about, but whom he longed to know better? Would Marcus be the one pumping his cock right now, urging him to come?

  Lucian let free a shaky breath and twisted beneath his tightened sheets until they loosened. He rolled onto his back and tented his legs, letting the pleasure of his tightened palm guide his mind from his tiny bedroom straight back to Marcus.

  A man like that would know how to touch him, and Lucian knew how to touch in return. A night spent sharing each other’s bodies beneath Marcus’ sheets, chasing orgasm after orgasm from each other’s bodies, would lead to the best night Lucian had ever had. Stolen kisses and shuddering gasps. A thick cock in his ass. Frenzied rocking. Low lights.

  Lucian pushed into his hand as his desperation grew.

  Would Marcus take him into one of The Shepherd’s public rooms? Tie him up? Slip his cock so deeply into Lucian that Lucian tasted it?

  Eyes. So many sets of eyes, watching, appraising, and enjoying. Lucian was no stranger to sex, but the things he’d seen in those rooms made him blush. Was that what Marcus would want from him?

  Was that what he would demand?

  Lucian bit down on his jaw and hissed a moan through his teeth. He rolled onto his side, too wound up to even think of getting out of bed to find his dildo. Marcus’ eyes ripped through him, saw all his secrets, and knew the perversion in his soul. He knew that Lucian had grown to love sex during his captivity at The White Lotus, and he knew how hungry Lucian was for it now.

  Would Marcus wait for Lucian’s heat before he brought him to bed? Until the first sparks lit inside Lucian’s groin and started the slow burn that would keep him begging for more?

  For Marcus, he’d stop his suppressants. For Marcus, he’d let himself be fucked like the animal he was.

  The clench of orgasm rocked Lucian all at once, and his body went rigid as he started to come.

  Marcus was there, pushing into him from behind, filling Lucian so full that he needed to push his come out, because there was no more space left for it inside his body. Marcus, with his subtle laugh and playful glint in his eyes, was breeding him like he deserved to be bred. Marcus was—

  The last pulse of cum worked itself from Lucian’s slit, and he sank down onto the bed and cut his thoughts short. Sweaty, exhausted, and far less aroused than he had been seconds before, he considered what he’d just done and regretted it.

  Marcus wasn’t someone he wanted to get involved with. Marcus was off the table. The only reason Lucian had fantasized about him was because his heat was starting to manifest, and he was desperate for an alpha to take home.

  But the longer Lucian reflected on it, the less satisfactory that answer became. In his darkened bedroom, curled beneath his blankets, a final thought struck Lucian before he fell asleep that made him change his mind—The Shepherd had no shortage of alphas. He’d met the eyes of many men and woman who looked more than ready to take him to bed, but Marcus was the only one he came back to.

  The only one he wanted.

  Sleep was a mercy Lucian desperately needed. He didn’t want to reflect on that thought any more than he needed to.

  He was scared to admit what it meant.

  8

  Marcus

  The razor glided along the underside of Marcus’ neck. He watched the shaving cream gather against the blade, then finished the stroke and wiped the blade clean on the hand towel draped over the side of the bathroom sink. Marcus leaned a little closer, examining the skin of his neck to make sure nothing had been forgotten. Nothing had been. The errant stubble on his neck and beneath his chin was gone. All that remained was the stubble lining his jaw and lip.

  Marcus rinsed the blade, dried it, then put it away. He closed the medicine cabinet door and looked himself in the eye. Excitement burned deep within, the kind he hadn’t seen in himself in years.

  He was ready.

  It wasn’t often that he found an omega who piqued his interest like Clarissa’s new boy had. New faces came and went. Those who stayed often did so because they’d found what they were looking for—companionship, community, or control. Marcus watched them rise just as he himself had once risen, emboldened by the power hidden beneath The Shepherd’s dim lights. But after all the
se years, he was coming to realize that power wasn’t what bound him to The Shepherd. The sense of completion Marcus got from seeing others bend to his will and listen to his word had drawn him in, but the sparkle had worn off, and Marcus was able to see beneath the finish and directly into what lay beneath.

  It was hope.

  Hope that he’d find the young man able to bind Marcus’ heart as Marcus bound his body. Hope that one day, he’d find a soul that made his own yearn for something more than heated Friday nights and delirious Saturday mornings.

  Hope that at the end of the day, the fantasy never had to end.

  And while it was too early to say if he’d found what he was looking for, Marcus knew that he’d never met a man who drew him in as deeply as Clarissa’s boy did.

  Off-limits or not, Marcus wasn’t about to let him go.

  Marcus’ shirt hung from the back of the bathroom door. He took it off the hook and shrugged into it, adjusting his collar so that it lined up before he did the buttons one by one. It was still early on a Friday night—just after seven—and Marcus was in no hurry. The Shepherd wouldn’t see business pick up until well after the sun had set, and with summer on its way, the days were only getting longer.

  Once his shirt was buttoned, Marcus left the bathroom to head for his closet. A collection of suit jackets awaited his inspection. After some consideration, Marcus chose one of his black Burberry pieces, gliding his arm into each sleeve before drawing it forward and letting it drape. The shoulders fell perfectly, and the jacket contoured the sturdy shape of his chest and lent him definition in a way Marcus appreciated.

  Hand on the closet door, ready to get on with his evening, Marcus was disrupted by a phone call. The dull, professional beep killed his mood.