Page 1 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys

PROLOGUE. NELLY SHAW

Former First Principal Dancer with Tacoma’s Imperial Ballet Company...

The lights burned above me. Dollars littered the stage. It didn’t matter where I was, it only mattered that I moved my body. Rising. Falling.

The pole is my partner now. I don’t need Geoff anymore. I can lift myself as high as I want—to the ceiling of this room, to the top of the city’s highest building, to the edge of the atmosphere and beyond. Higher. Higher. Watch me soar.

I was still a rising star. I was still a prima, and my audience was oh-so-very-hungry for me.

Wanted. Desired.Worshipped.

Pulsing, moody music wafted from the speakers above, reminding me that this was no Swan Lake I performed. Yet, I still put every ounce of my talent into rolling my body, dipping to the floor, jutting out my ass as I slowly, effortlessly stood back up. Arching my back seductively, ginger hair fell down my back freely instead of being slicked into a taut bun that wouldeventually give me a headache. My scalp had always felt so tight and uncomfortable, even hours later after taking out the pins and the bands and washing out the gel and layers of hair spray.

Those days were long over though. No more blistered, bleeding feet. No more worrying about one more pound on the scale.

I seductively locked eyes one-by-one with the front row patrons. Alphas, all of them, their pupils blown wide with lust, drugs, and something too close to ownership. Most of Club Midnight’s regular patrons had that look, as if paying to enter the exclusive joint meant they’d also bought rights to our bodies. That's what they all wanted in the end. Not just the dance, but the dancers, too. I’d learned to politely fend them off, and when someone got too handsy, we had to rely on the bouncers to enforce etiquette. Many times, though, management turned a blind eye if a stack of bills was thick enough.

"Take it off," someone shouted from the back.

I smiled, feigning excitement as I hooked my thumbs into the thin straps of my sequined top. Teasing. Always teasing. Promising just a little bit more until all that was left were pasties and the minuscule thong. Those, and the sky-high platforms of course.

I spun once more, my body light as air despite the four-inch heels. A lifetime of ballet had given my body graceful strength.Club Midnight had taught me how to weaponize it.

The music shifted, bass deepening as I dropped to all fours. I chose my target, crawling toward the edge of the stage where a particularly well-dressed Alpha sat. His scent hit me—turmeric, dates, a trace of cardamom. It was a strangely familiar scent, causing my brain to unexpectedly shift into memory. Suddenly, I was thirteen and sitting at the kitchen table with my grandmother while we both sipped herbal tea. She’d had a soft spot for golden milk chai, and she only ever used date syrup.

Dammit. Why was she on my mind so much these days?Even if Grandmother didn’t recognize me anymore, I needed to get up to Tacoma to see her.

I faltered on the stage, stopping my predatory approach towards the bronze-skinned Alpha.

"Focus, Nelly," I whispered to myself, plastering on a placating smile and forcing my body to move forward to the edge of the stage. When I was there, I reached out, snagging the Alpha’s tie to tug him closer. When our faces hovered a few inches apart, his gaze darkened. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were. The club was too dim, and the stage lights were multi-colored strobes meant to make everything feel almost surreal. Even so, I had a feeling they were gorgeously dark brown.

“Private dance later?” He questioned, his scent shifting and pluming heady spice into the air. I had no doubt that his version of a private dance included a happy ending. I could see it in his eyes, his body language, the underlying thrum in his speech. I wasverygood at recognizing the signs nowadays.

“Never know. My dance card isn’t full yet.” I bit the side of my lip, raising my eyebrows a few times to suggest he had a chance. Then I waited as he inevitably tucked a crisp bill into the waistband of the metallic thong. I’d learned that sometimes the possibility of having me was just as good to these guys. Though private dances were our bread and butter here; I shouldn’t turn down an easy hundred bucks. We had to tip out the bouncers, DJ, and bartenders at the end of the night with our total earnings. So, every dollar counted. Thankfully, the owner made his profit from membership fees, and he paid management a high enough salary. Otherwise, we’d make even less money.

“Keep a slot on that dance card.” The Alpha spoke loudly, ensuring other patrons knew he’d staked his claim.

“Thanks, sugar,” I said seductively, crawling backwards while gathering other scattered bills littering the stage now.I winked at another suited patron before turning around and giving the onlookers a clear view of my rounded, supple ass. When I was finally back at the pole, I turned again to face the crowd, rose to my knees, pressed my body against the cold metal, then slowly slid up to stand once more. I stared down at the crowd now. Stared down at my worshipers.

I used to be a ballerina.

I used to have the world at my feet.

In a way, I still did.

I licked my lips, stuffing the money into my G-string. Next, I gripped the pole and began slowly navigating around it, flipping my hair over one shoulder and preparing for another dip and rise before I mounted the pole in one fell swoop. I gripped it with my legs; chrome tucked against my knees as my powerful thighs did their job expertly. I held onto it with one hand, leaning backward until my upper body was parallel to the floor, ginger hair cascading in waterfall. I only stayed in that pose for a heartbeat before fully flipping upside down.

Both of my hands automatically gripped the pole, and I parted my legs. An upside split that sent the onlookers into a frenzy. They chanted my stage name.

Lucky. Lucky. Lucky.

Lucky Star. To them, I pointed the way toward desire, passion, and yearning.

I closed my eyes and let the movement, the music, the warmth of the lights wash over me.

This is my home.

My body fluidly moves.