Page 62

Story: May the Wolf Die

Shifting Sapphichad all the outward appearances of a dive bar, from the fading, hand-painted sign hanging above the door, to the bars on the neon-sign-adorned windows, and then to the piles of cigarette butts littering the ground.

But between the groups of females laughing in their sexy outfits, teetering their way inside on high stilettos, and the sound of Lady Gaga playing every time the front door opened, I knew I’d found my new favorite place.

Even the bouncer was female, and alpha from what I could tell given her larger stature and rosemary scent. She welcomed Linda with a hug. “Hey, good to see you again!”

“You, too! Zoey, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

I crept around to the front of the group from where I’d been hidden to face the tattooed, pierced female with bright pink hair.

Zoey’s eyes widened in surprise as she breathed me in. “You’re the omega everyone’s been talking about! I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Her warm smile instantly put me at ease. “Hi, I’m Marlowe! It’s nice to meet you.”

She pinched my cheek and scrunched up her face. “You look like you’re still in high school! But I’m going to assume you’re over twenty-one if Officer Linda’s bringing you here. Go on, get in and out of the cold!”

She ushered us inside, where an overwhelming bouquet of feminine scents, enhanced by poorly ventilated space and the sweat of dancing bodies, hit me like a tsunami. Females of every age, shape, size, and designation filled the room, smiles plastered on their faces.

Linda leaned down to address the group. “You all go grab a table. I’ll get us some drinks!”

I nodded and let Samantha take my hand, leading us to one of the few free spots still available. My boots stuck a little to the floor as I walked, but the feeling and sound were like garnish on a perfect dish.

“This place is awesome! How often do you come here?” I asked them.

“Eh,” Beth replied. “Maybe two to three times a month?”

Diana chuckled. “Speak for yourself, I’m here two to three times a week.” She laughed again when she saw the surprised look on my face. “I’m not an alcoholic or anything! I’m the operations manager at the sawmill and I work with way too many alpha males who like to push their weight around. Coming here allows me to let off steam.”

“Tell me about it!” Linda chimed in, carrying our drinks. “Half the assholes I work with think they should have my job just because of the knot between their legs. It’s exhausting constantly having to go above and beyond just to prove I belong.”

She passed out the round of brandy old fashioneds she’d ordered, and I took a leisurely sip, the sweet and bitter nostalgia settling nicely along my tongue.

“Well, at least you two are getting promoted,” Beth sighed, popping a maraschino cherry in her mouth. “I’ve been in the same spot for eight years, getting passed over by less-qualified, less-experienced, and less-educated males every time a new manager position opens up. Beta females never get taken seriously.”

Samantha nodded in mutual frustration. “My company still treats me like an intern, it’s insane.”

Diana growled on behalf of her friend, and looked at me. “How about you? I know you work with humans, right? Is it any better on the other side?”

“Worked, and yes and no. Humans don’t have designations like shifters, but they find plenty of other reasons besides that and gender to discriminate against people.”

I took another sip, thinking about all the shit Dominique, my black classmate from grad school, regularly got from jerks who loved to assume she’d been a “diversity hire.” No, it couldn’t have been because she wasactuallyqualified.

Ugh.

“But at the very least they probably don’t treat you like literal property to get handed off to whichever male can punch the hardest, right?” Linda asked, giving me a sympathetic pat on the back.

Double ugh.

Nicki Minaj came on and my eyes lit up, slamming back my drink with a wince. “I don’t want to think about the stupid Rite or the stupid Conclave tonight. Who wants to daaaaance?”

Everyone raised their hands and we left the table, trying to carve some room in the already crowded space. We made our circle and lost ourselves to the music, laughing and singing the lyrics to each other with each new song the DJ played.

Female artists only, of course.

Just as I was twirling around to Madonna, I heard someone yell behind me, “Marlowe, is that you?”

Linda and Diana instantly pulled me into the circle, closing it as they assessed the crowd for threats.

I had to bite back my laugh at their overreaction—male or female, alphas were alphas.

Table of Contents