Page 2

Chapter Two

Emma

D esparion—the place where they locked the monsters and misfits who revealed as an alpha behind a great expanse of chain-link fencing, separated by a half mile of no-man’s-land.

You’d think no one would want to go there. On the surface at least, it didn’t sound like the kind of place a sensible person would visit. Yet thousands of unassuming, sensible people queued up for the privilege every week.

Why?

Because everywhere you looked were alphas; and betas, it would seem, were drawn to the fire.

Alphas didn’t follow the same rules we did, and I found that fascinating. They didn’t have rules at all. Not that I was a huge rebel. I rarely drank more than one or two glasses, didn’t take drugs, and my only vice was my obsession with certain illegal sites where you could watch alphas in action.

But today, I was making an exception. Today was my birthday, and for once in my life, I was doing something wild.

Sloane has been, well, Sloane. Persuading her to let me party here had been a challenge of epic proportions.

I loved my big sister to the moon and back, but sometimes, I wished she’d be my sister, not my mother.

When we first arrived at Inked, our club of choice, and my stuffy sister took up residence on a barstool, I’d feared the worst, but barely had I finished the first dance when security arrived to whisk us away to a private room, no less.

Freaking amazing! I couldn’t believe Sloane had pulled a hot alpha with this much clout…

any alpha, for that matter, given she had to be dragged out.

I honestly thought she’d never move from the barstool she’d claimed, save for a riot or fire, yet here we were.

There was a small private dance floor, a sleek, pink and blue neon lit bar, intimate couches and tables, and a balcony and stairs leading down to the main club, where bright lights rotated through the color spectrum.

Meanwhile, my sister had disappeared and was off having fun with an alpha.

Bet she was glad I’d made her install the app now. I’d have high-fived her, except she was busy and some things even a sister didn’t interrupt.

I was glad for her. Maybe this was the start of a new Sloane. Maybe I would finally get my big sister back again.

I hoped so. I’d missed her.

“That’s one hot alpha,” Jude said, gazing with open appreciation at the alpha standing at the opposite side of the bar.

I grinned, swaying my hips in time with the music while sipping a delicious and pretty cocktail the barman, Art, had just slid across the counter toward me.

“What’s holding you back?” Jude had never been shy about putting himself out there.

Oh, he was subtle about it, but if he wanted a man, he had a way of placing himself in their line of sight that made it all just happen.

“He’s not into men,” Jude said, smirking. “But I think he’s into you.”

“What?” My head turned toward the alpha in question so fast, I nearly gave myself whiplash. “He’s not even looking at me!” And really, I would know, given I’d been sending covert glances his way since I first spied him.

“Exactly,” Jude said. “Every alpha in the room is mesmerized by you, from your sequined cat ears all the way to those cute, pointed shoes. Any man not looking is either gay—which trust me, he isn’t, since my gaydar never fails me—or into you on a whole other level.”

I dismissed the alpha as a possibility, even as my eyes kept straying his way. I’d come out tonight to have fun, and not necessarily the kind that happened between the sheets, but once we’d arrived, I felt the pull they all talked about.

Pheromones. They didn’t impact a beta the same way they impacted an omega, but damn, my whole body was tingling just from our limited time in this private room.

It was disconcerting to be this aroused without anyone touching me.

No wonder this place was so popular. I tried and failed to imagine how good it would be if an alpha actually touched me.

I mentally fanned myself.

Yet all other plans went out the window when I’d spotted him, because no one here came close to his level of raw sex appeal.

He was tall, with medium brown hair that had gotten too long and the smoldering good looks that a girl expected from an alpha.

There was also a brooding stillness about him that made me shiver from all the way over here, like he saw things beyond the understanding of us mere mortals.

Plus, the guy was big, like freaking massive.

Miles of muscles were showcased to perfection in that faded T-shirt, jeans, and boots—really big boots.

All very proportional, from what I could see.

My eyes, like they had a will of their own, went straight to his crotch…and wow. I wasn’t in the habit of staring at men’s crotches, but wow… Was that even real? My eyes snapped up, some sixth compelling me to do so.

Fuck!

I didn’t swear very often, but if any situation warranted cursing, this was it. I should’ve looked away, turned around, done something, anything, but I was like a deer in headlights. His eyes were a kind of blue-gray that always looked fake when you saw them on models.

They weren’t fake. Not one damn thing about him was fake. The man was one hundred percent the real deal.

And now he was staring straight at me.

Jude’s chuckle snatched my attention, and I scowled at him.

“Girlfriend, he caught you ogling his junk like you were starving and it was a piece of steak. Retreat isn’t an option. May as well tough it out and find out where the game goes.”

My lips tugged up. This was why I liked Jude so much. He had my back, looked out for me, and gave me a gentle nudge toward things on my bucket list…like a man I wanted. And I did want him more than my next breath. I’d sell my soul to the devil to have that alpha put his hands on me.

I tapped my cherry red tipped finger on my lips as I eyed Jude. “What approach do you recommend?”

“Drunk party girl,” he said, grinning. “Just in case he’s an asshole in a fine package. Can’t be too careful.”

* * *

Ryder

“Are you an alpha?”

I looked down at myself, looked back at the little beta, and raised a questioning brow.

She giggled, teetering on her sky-high heels. Glossy dark hair was adorned by a set of sparkling cat ears that managed to ride the line somewhere between ridiculous and cute. They were slightly off center, and I had to fight my OCD urge to straighten them up.

Rubbing absently at the stubble on my jaw, I sized her up.

She looked like trouble, from the jut of her little pixie chin all the way down to her toes.

I’d been trying to ignore her, mostly because she was stunning, but also because anyone who could shake their ass while drinking a cocktail and not spill a drop took my mind straight to the gutter…

Like, what else could she do without spilling a drop?

Also, I could tell from fifty paces that she wasn’t a good girl, and I liked my girls good.

Yeah, I lied to myself frequently.

“Aren’t you going to offer to buy me a drink?” she asked.

“Nope.”

Her impish smile disappeared. “What? Why not?”

“Because all the drinks are free and you look like you’ve had enough.”

“They’re free?” she asked, her brows drawing together.

I nodded slowly.

The party girl act dropped in a flash, and she tapped one little pointed toe, brows pinching together like she was getting ready to maim someone. “I thought everyone was super generous.”

I shrugged. Someone was super generous. That someone was me, courtesy of my business partner Jace and his desire to bang some corporate banker chick, aka the beta who’d stumbled into our midst.

“And I was faking having had too much to drink. I’ve found it’s the absolute best way for weeding out the assholes.”

I laughed. Her bullshit was cute. Then my smile dropped as I wondered what kind of assholes she’d met to resort to such a tactic.

“You passed,” she said, her little smirk back in play. “It’s my birthday, by the way.”

“Yeah? I kind of figured that part out.” Those damn off-center cat ears made my fingers itch.

“My sister hates my dress,” she said. “Do you like my dress?”

Was this another fucking test? “Baby, I love your dress. I just wish there were a lot more of it, or we were somewhere private and I was the only man looking at it.”

Yeah, that popped right out, except that wasn’t me. I couldn’t give a fuck what a woman wore or who saw it and enjoyed a pretty view as much as the next man. I didn’t do possessive or territorial, but this sassy pixie was poking through my usually stolid facade.

“Hmm. I better get one in every color.”

“Brat,” I said, smirking as I tested out the word.

I didn’t mean for that to slip out either, but every man had a type.

Tall, short, brunette, blonde, slim, or curvy, it didn’t matter because I didn’t have a type, other than a weakness for brats.

I just wanted to temper them because tempering them was hot as fuck.

“Oh, I definitely am, as my sister will attest.”

“Baby, what it brings out in me is nothing like what it brings out in your sister.”