I opened my eyes slowly, spoke to the floor when I did.
“That’s what I want. If you can find me that in your den of iniquity, then show me, because I’ve been waiting for a fucking long time for it.”
“Fuck…” Marcus hissed. “We need to—”
“Shut up, Marcus.” Orion’s voice was cool and clipped, every inch the boy born to rule. “Take the omega’s arm in yours and escort her out into your den. An omega’s told us what she wants. We’re the alphas, it’s on us to provide.”
And so I was swept out, head swimming but footsteps sure. I had no such hopes for finding what I was looking for in Apothecary, but I was taking the first steps, wasn’t I? The first towards my new future.
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.”