Breathe (His Command Book 5) Page 5

  Oh, I’ve just got to log into Kik so I can message this totally hot guy I’ve been sexting who makes me come like a fire hydrant. No, I’ve never seen his picture. No, I don’t even know his real name. Yeah, and I’ve totally been crushing on him for months now. Like, head-over-heels, I-sleep-with-my-phone-in-my-hands crushing.

  Desperate? Never heard the word before. Hey, mind if I take some nudes while I’ve got your phone? I’ll delete them when I’m done.

  “Well, if you’re volunteering...” Cedric rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Oli smacked his arm with one of the pillows on the couch, and Cedric snorted with laughter. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. No one’s standing outside wearing a sandwich board. I want you at the bar. It’s on the second floor, so you might see some of the regulars playing, but—”

  “I can handle a little dick.” Oli paused, then added, “I can handle a big dick, too. I don’t discriminate. But in all seriousness, I know I make fun of you and your penchant for whips and chains, but I’m not repulsed by it. I’m not going to embarrass you, and I’m not going to get creeped out. Different strokes, right?”

  “Right.” Cedric looked at him thoughtfully. “I owe you one.”

  “I’ll let you know when I need a tattooed, gorgeous alpha with a legendary knot to sit at the bar in my club to bring in all those mad omega dollars,” Oli shot back. “Until then, don’t worry about it.”

  Maybe getting out and meeting people would help take his mind off Alcrest. At this point, whether Oli wanted to admit it or not, it was officially over. Online relationships were flaky at best, and at the month mark without a peep? Alcrest had forgotten about him by now. Even if he couldn’t find someone to take Alcrest’s spot, he could at least find someone who would distract him—and right now, distraction was good enough. In fact, distraction sounded way better than sulking in Cedric’s living room and occasionally scaring Gabriel with his attempts at humor.

  “Then let’s get you dressed,” Cedric said. He eased up from the couch and held his hand out to Oli. Oli accepted his help and allowed Cedric to pull him to his feet. “We don’t want to be late. Doors open at seven tonight, and you’re going to want to reserve your spot at the bar early.”

  “I’m pretty much ready to go?” Oli looked down at himself. He didn’t look horrible. T-shirts and jeans were his thing.

  “Not like that, you’re not.” Cedric leaned forward until his lips were next to Oli’s ear. The words he whispered were edged with heat. “Wear something that makes you feel like you own the place. Who knows who you might go home with.”

  A shiver shot down Oli’s spine, but he fired back with his usual brand of sarcasm despite the unwanted thrill. “Definitely a life-ending hangover, or maybe severe alcohol poisoning. I haven’t decided which eligible bachelor I should entertain just yet.”

  Cedric drew back and smacked his arm. “Dick.”

  “You know it.” Oli beamed. “Give me half an hour and I’ll put on something extra sexy for your thirsty potential patrons. I hope they like sloppy drunk omegas, because I am getting hammered tonight.”

  7

  Marshall

  The Shepherd was as unassuming now as it had been three years ago. Marshall stood outside its doors, his hands tucked into the back pockets of his slacks as he observed the well-maintained façade. The white-blue neon sign was lit, but at this early hour in the evening, its full radiance was yet to be realized. When the night retired to the early hours of the morning, it would dazzle. Tonight, when Marshall left, he’d give it one last look and burn it into his memory.

  One last goodbye.

  Despite the somber nature of the thought, a smile curved his lips. He opened the door to the check-in area and found Stephanie—the same young woman he remembered from years before—seated at the counter, curling a lock of hair around her fingers in an endless cycle. When Marshall entered she looked up, disappointed, before recognition sparked in her eyes. She grinned at him, her cherry lips a shade or two darker than Marshall remembered, but as plump and tempting as ever.

  “Marshall!” she exclaimed. “I feel starstruck. First Crawford, then Marcus, now you? What did a girl ever do to be so lucky?”

  “She endured open house night,” Marshall said, chuckling. A cough tightened in his throat, and he stopped where he was to see it through before it got any worse.

  “Oh, you sweet man.” Stephanie waved him off, acting like nothing was wrong. “It’s not so bad. Cedric is coming down every now and then to make sure I have drinks. He’s been taking astounding care of me.”

  “Cedric?” Marshall asked, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat and set a hand on Stephanie’s desk to take some of his weight off his feet. “He one of the new bartenders?”

  Stephanie rolled her eyes. “No, but with how Clarissa lusts after the man, I bet she wishes he were. He’s the hot new manager that Sterling brought on to take over while Sterling raises his family while his husband works. Kind of sweet, right? Except he’s totally hot, and he’s like… the perfect flavor of dominant. Gentle, but not so much that you can bend him to your will. Tender, but unforgiving if you cross the line. He’s a dream to work with, really.”

  “Sterling’s replacement,” Marshall mused. How times had changed. There’d once been a day when Marshall was sure Sterling would oversee the club until he was too weak to even hobble around on a cane, but it looked like life had stepped in to change that. “I’m glad he’s treating you well.”

  “He is. It’s been a really good transitional period, and I think all of us are just as happy with him as we were with Sterling—not that Sterling’s entirely out of the picture, you know. I don’t think he could ever step down officially.”

  Marshall held back a laugh he knew would end in a coughing fit. “I figured.”

  “But yay, you’re here!” Stephanie opened a drawer and pulled out a paper she slid across the desk to Marshall. “It’s been a while since you’ve had to check in, but you know the rules. I’m going to need you to sign your name on the dotted line, just like everyone else. Safety first, for both parties.”

  “Safety first.” There was a pen on the desk. Marshall clicked it open and signed the release form, then returned it to Stephanie. She pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up her nose and shot him a winning smile. He smiled back.

  “You know, it’s such a thrill to see all of you coming back, even if it’s just for tonight. People come and go, but there are some regulars who just… stick. You know what I mean?” She pushed her lips to the side and looked toward the front door as if daring someone to come interrupt her dialogue. “I’m biased, of course, but when you and your group were at your prime, those were the best days. I have a feeling that more good days are coming soon, but it’s not the same, and I guess I’ve got to accept that it’ll never be the same again.”

  “I appreciate it,” Marshall said kindly. “You have no idea how nice it is to see a familiar face still working here.”

  “And you have no idea how nice it is to see you in such good spirits. I remember when you got sick, right before you left, and it was awful. I was so worried. I couldn’t be happier that you’re back now and looking so well.”

  Marshall said nothing to correct her. The corner of his lip pulled to the side, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Am I good to go?”

  “You’re more than good to go. Get in there!”

  “Thanks, Stephanie. Have a good night.”

  She winked at him. “Right back atcha.”

  Marshall braced himself for the journey through the club, pulled open the heavy soundproof door barricading Stephanie’s tiny entry room from the dance floor, and went to find his friends.

  Across The Shepherd’s ground-level dance floor was a set of stairs that led up to the bar. There’d been a time in Marshall’s life where he’d climbed the stairs without thinking twice about them. Now was not one of those times. He took the stairs a step at a time, leaning heavily on the railing to take some of his body weight off his feet, but e
ven that didn’t bring him much relief. Without his oxygen, the air was too thin—but Marshall was too prideful to admit to the world that there was something wrong with him, and he refused to let society’s opinion of him be negatively impacted by the stigma of his disease.

  He was strong, and he was capable.

  Until he could no longer appear in public, he wouldn’t let the world see that his body was betraying him.

  No one paid much attention to him as he made his way up the stairs at a crawl. Open house night had brought swarms of new people, and although most of them clustered on the dance floor where nudity and other sexual conduct was prohibited, a few of the braver—or more curious—souls had started to creep their way up the staircase to see if they could catch a glimpse of what the second floor had to offer. He stood amongst them, another strange face on an unusual night, until he cleared the last step and emerged on the upper landing, winded but alive.

  The edges of his field of vision blurred, and tiny points of pressure danced like static behind his eyes, so he allowed himself a second to adjust. He’d grown all too familiar with that lightheaded feeling, and he would not let himself faint while in public.

  “Marshall!” a female voice called to his left. Marshall turned his head to spot Clarissa—Sterling’s younger sister, and the bar manager—wave at him from behind the bar. Her grin was a mile wide, and despite how busy she looked, she took a second to lean over the end of the bar closest to him. “Good to see you again! Have fun tonight!”

  He returned her wave but didn’t attempt to call out over the chatter of the crowd and the booming bass from downstairs.

  “Hello, Marshall.” This time, the greeting didn’t come from Clarissa. Marshall turned his head to find Sterling, the previous manager of The Shepherd and an old friend, standing in front of him. He looked as sharp as ever in his well-tailored suit, his blond hair kept short and professional. He set a broad hand on Marshall’s shoulder and squeezed. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Good to see you too, Sterling.” Marshall pulled himself together enough to smile. His lungs ached. “I heard from Stephanie that the gang’s already here. Do we have a booth, or do we have to rough up some of the newer members to take back what’s rightfully ours?”

  Sterling flashed him a grin. “There’ll be no brute force needed tonight. Marcus went to great lengths to ensure we secured a booth.”

  “I’m sure Marcus didn’t have half as much to do with it as you,” Marshall said in good humor. “You may have stepped down, but you can’t tell me that you’ve officially retired. You still have your finger on the pulse here, and I’d bet that the patrons know it.”

  Sterling shrugged, but the grin on his face told a different story. “Perhaps. It’s different now. I’m not here half as often as I used to be, now that I have Adrian and Lilian to care for.”

  “I’d imagine not. Lilian is almost three now, isn’t she?” Marshall followed Sterling across the floor to the button tufted booths that lined the far wall. The blurring in his vision persisted as he walked, and he abandoned all hopes of maintaining a conversation. With any luck, Sterling would jump in to take over from where Marshall had left off.

  He did.

  “She’s almost three, yes. Time flies. I can’t believe how big she’s grown. Adrian says he’s ready for her first day of school, but I doubt it. I don’t think anything can prepare you for that.”

  Marshall made no comment. Breathing was hard enough on its own without the added strain of conversation. There wasn’t enough air in his lungs to sustain both.

  “We recently moved her from her crib to a toddler bed, and I saw him tear up more than once while checking in on her that night.” Sterling looked over his shoulder at Marshall, expression rife with mischief. “I imagine he’ll take off from work on her first day of school so he can watch her through the kindergarten window when the time comes—not for her benefit, but for his own.”

  They arrived at the booth, and as Marshall came to a stop and was able to catch his breath, he was surprised to find that Sterling, Marcus, and Crawford weren’t the only ones joining them that night. At Crawford’s side, the top two buttons of his shirt undone to reveal a leather collar, was Crawford’s husband, Owen. Marcus’ fiancé, Lucian, was seated on Marcus’ lap. Marcus was already undoing the buttons of Lucian’s shirt one by one, and the garment had started to slip down his slender shoulders. Adrian, Sterling’s husband, sat at the very edge of the booth, separated from the other couples. He looked up when Sterling arrived, and Marshall saw affection soften his usually cold gaze.

  Three couples, all of them very much in love, and two of them now parents to young children, would share his company tonight. Five years ago, Marshall never would have believed his best friends would find total happiness in committed relationships, but then again, five years ago, Marshall never would have believed he’d be in the state of health he was in now.

  “Marshall,” Adrian said softly. He stood from the booth and allowed Sterling entrance. Sterling slid down the rounded bench to sit near Marcus and Lucian. “It’s good to see you here tonight. It’s been a while.”

  “It has, hasn’t it?” The words were choked for breath, but Marshall did his best to mask the irregularities. “You’re looking well.”

  A sly, secretive smile lifted the corner of Adrian’s lips. “Thanks. Come sit.” Adrian gestured at the bench. “You can sit next to Sterling, if you want.”

  “No, thank you. I’ll leave that pleasure to you.”

  Being at the end of the booth meant that he could make an escape if he needed to. When the conversation inevitably decayed into relationship stories, or the details of Marcus and Lucian’s upcoming wedding, or how Crawford and Owen’s twins were doing, Marshall would politely excuse himself and leave. He loved his friends, and to return to The Shepherd in their presence was nostalgic in all the best ways, but his heart wasn’t prepared to hear about their endless happiness—and he wasn’t about to bring down the mood with his troubles.

  Adrian gave him a once-over, frowned, then scooted down the booth to join Sterling. When he was settled, Marshall did the same.

  Lucian, doe-eyed and cheeks flushed, turned his head from Marcus’ direction to look his way. “Hello, Marshall.”

  “Hey.” Marshall offered him a smile.

  “Good to see you.” Marcus pried his attention away from Lucian to meet Marshall’s gaze. “It’s been too long since we all got together. Life has taken us in different directions, but I’m glad that tonight it’s brought us all back in one place.”

  Marshall didn’t credit life with their reunion. Crawford’s initiative had brought them back together—not any random twist of fate. If life ever operated in kind ways, Marshall wasn’t aware of them. It was the force that had plucked him away from the club scene in the first place, and one by one separated him from his friends as they fell in love and settled down to start families. Marshall had accepted that he would never follow in their footsteps, but seeing them now with their lovers, embarking on new adventures and navigating the world as a family, made a secret, silent part of Marshall think that it would be nice to spend the time he had left with someone who meant something to him.

  Someone like Oliver.

  “How are you gentlemen enjoying your evening?” a new voice asked from the bar-side edge of the table. Marshall looked up to find a young man with black hair standing there, the sleeves of his suit jacket rolled up to his elbows, exposing an arm covered in tattoos. Modest gauges stretched his earlobes, and twin piercings shone near either corner of his lower lip. He held himself well, and there was a sincerity in his face that told Marshall he was a respectable man. Had he been twenty years older, he would have fit into their group seamlessly.

  Sterling leaned forward so his elbows were on the table and his hands were clasped together loosely. “So far it’s been a fantastic time. You’ve done a great job organizing this year’s open house, Cedric. I’m impressed.”

  Cedr
ic—the young man who’d stepped in to take Sterling’s place as manager of The Shepherd. It was nice to put a face to his name.

  “How is Gabriel doing?” Adrian asked. “Is he feeling any less sick?”

  Cedric nodded. “Much. I had him take some ginger to settle his stomach. It’s an ongoing battle, but he’s been doing a good job respecting the doctor’s orders.”

  Adrian’s lips tightened, but Marshall didn’t get the impression that he was displeased. Rather, Adrian bore the look of a man who expected others to give him all they could, and whose scrutiny was born from a place of care and devotion. Marshall had known him for several years before his health had forced him to end his membership at The Shepherd, and although he knew many viewed Adrian as someone who ran too hot and cold to be palatable, Marshall had always believed he meant well. To see him married to Sterling meant that his gut feeling wasn’t far from the mark—Sterling was nothing short of a saint, and while he did his best to see the good in all people, Marshall knew he wouldn’t choose to spend his life with someone who had no redeeming qualities.

  “Can I get you gentlemen some drinks?” Cedric asked. “I’ll be busy the rest of the night, but I wanted to stop by before it got overwhelming to welcome you.”

  Marcus grinned. “Clarissa knows what I like. I don’t think she’ll have forgotten.”

  It was impossible to hear their conversation from the bar, especially over the bass vibrating through the floor from downstairs, but Marshall saw Clarissa meet Marcus’ gaze and stick out her tongue.

  “Owen and I are abstaining,” Crawford said. “We’ve promised the boys that we’ll go out tomorrow, and that means that we’ll be woken up before dawn and dragged out of bed by very energetic, eager twins.” He hid a smile, but Marshall saw it shine through in his eyes. “Parenting young children and hangovers don’t pair as well as I’d like them to, I’m afraid.”