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Chapter twelve

Mitch

“Damn,” Clay murmurs next me as we stare at our Omega walking down the stairs in an absolutely sinful dress. Roan looks like she poured herself into the tight-fitted black number that hits the top of her thick thighs.

“Should we have dressed up more?” I ask, looking down at our nice jeans and buttoned-up flannels. Clay sucks in his stomach as my gaze moves over him, and I want to say something, but he hasn’t been in the mood to listen to my praise.

As she approaches, I get a better look at her dress.

The low neckline shows the full curve of her breasts, highlighted with body glitter.

Every step she takes towards us hypnotises me with a shiny jiggle of tits.

Shit, I'm gonna look like the most love drunk idiot all night, staring at my two mates.

Unlike Roan’s boots, I had the pleasure of digging up our Luraitta cowboy boots and giving them a good shine.

Anytime Clay puts on his boots, it just takes me right back to being eighteen and figuring out how we wanted to work.

We did the traditional courting for a few months, and every night we'd end up with our boots knocking together, unable to control ourselves.

I can already smell the heady blueberry scent coming off our Omega as she looks at us. Her cheeks are flush, hopefully with excitement, and her dark hair is all piled up at the back of her head except for the bleached bits that frame her face.

“You both look very lovely,” she says with a big grin. “I didn't overdo it, did I?”

“No, no, not at all,” I say in a rush. “You… you… you look—”

“Gorgeous, sugar,” Clay fills in for me as the words get trapped on my tongue. His tail wags against mine, excited for a night out at last.

His plan is unfolding right at our feet, and if things go as they’re supposed to, we will finally have the third member of our pack, our Omega, a creative and kind human who I would have never expected to be interested in us.

Hell, she's a damn royal, but looks like a natural climbing up into the middle seat of our truck.

She tucks her legs between the gear shift and we both squeeze in next to her.

I throw my arm around her shoulder to make room, and give Clay a steadying squeeze.

He looks at me over her head, and I think I see real hope in his light eyes.

As we pull off into the setting sun, all our knees rocking together as we head towards the dance hall, I feel like I'm getting a glimpse of the future.

“So where are we going tonight?” Roan asks over the quiet radio. She sounds a little nervous, and the instinct to comfort her warms my chest.

“It’s a place Clay and I used to go to a lot when we were younger.

It’s always a hoot.” I lean over a little to knock into her.

I’m not sure if we’re at the hugging stage yet.

I want to. Oh, how I want to pull Roan onto my lap and just let our Alpha drive on forever, just the three of us making the truck smell like blueberry pies and hot afternoons laying in the sun.

“A hoot?” she giggles.

“Yeah, it’s what us old folks call a good time,” Clay says, trying to maintain his usual serious demeanor. It fails as the corners of his lip twitch up when he glances over at us.

“Please, you are not old.”

“Says the lady twelve years younger than us.”

“He’s got you there, sugar,” Clay smirks.

“I am perfectly aware that I’m younger, just like I was perfectly aware of it when I first flirted with two older Wolven because I thought they were hot.”

“Uh-huh, is that what you call all the times you ran away from conversation?” I ask.

Her cheeks burst with glowing red embarrassment. Calling her out might have taken this in an awkward direction, but I’m curious.

“Maybe I like the chase?” she counters.

“Or,” Clays pushes, turning the truck down a gravel road.

“Perhaps I was caught up in my thoughts and didn’t want to flirt with married men?”

“Didn’t you wonder why both of us were flirting back?” I twirl a bit of Clay’s fur around my claw as I lean into Roan. Her warm body calls to me like flowers to a bee. I want to drink her in, taste her while our Alpha watches.

“Not for a second,” she shrugs.

“Well, we can practise some more once we’re inside,” Clay announces as we roll to a stop.

The dance hall is more of a warehouse about thirty minutes outside of town, and it's the best place to go for line dancing. Not exactly a well-known spot, as far as we can tell from our years of coming out here. Tourists don't bother swinging by.

In the early years of us having full control of the café, Darlene's Disco had been a reprieve from always having to be customer-forward. Here, we could be messy twenty-somethings who would happily fuck in the bathroom and tell off any rude dickhead.

I'm not sure you could pay me to sit my bare ass on those counter tops now. But the memories are vivid, and Darlene still lets us in, despite what wild kids we were.

The bouncer raises his bushy eyebrows at Roan's passport, but hands it back with a nod for us to pay the cover charge. Clay drops the cash in the bucket, then we get our hands stamped, and we’re finally inside.

Twanging, fast-paced music plays overhead just as a band starts setting up. People mingle around every corner, all of us gussied up for a night out.

“What’re ya having, sugar?” Clay calls out to Roan over the music.

She pulls him down by his shoulder so she doesn’t have to shout. “Pint of a lager.”

He nods, already knowing what I'm drinking, so he makes his way through the crowd to the bar. He's already said he wasn't drinking tonight, but that he wants us to have fun. Another night, we'll organise a different ride home so it feels less like Roan and I are being chaperoned.

“Not what you were expecting?” I ask, following her gaze around the bar. Not much has changed since the last time we were here. It's still a cavernous space big enough to hold Giants, if they want to line dance.

“Honestly, I'm not sure what I thought would happen tonight,” she says over the noise. “Maybe dinner. But is there anywhere in town that isn't Ted's?”

“There's one place in town that's pretty nice, but we promised to show you a hole-in-the-wall.” Her cheeks heat up when I say that, a flush that heads right down to her sparkly breasts. “What?”

“I—”

“What's what?” Clay asks, putting two glasses down on the table we’re standing around. He looks from me to her and back again.

“When you said hole-in-the-wall, I didn’t think you meant this,” she says.

Clay's ears drop a little at her admission. This date was his idea, something a bit different and fun to show Roan what we're like outside of work.

“Whatcha think we meant?” I press, determined to keep my optimism until it kills me.

“Glory holes.” Roan snatches her pint and takes a large gulp before either of us can react.

Clay cracks first, his lips spreading into a wide grin before he laughs in full force. His belly shakes, and I can hardly keep the tears from slipping down my own cheeks as I laugh, too. Holy shit. Our Omega thought we’d take her to a glory hole for a first date?

“And you agreed to come along anyway?” Clay asks, leaning into her.

Oh, that little slip has loosened him up already. Smug contentment settles over me. My Alpha likes to think he can suppress all his natural instincts, but they are there. He just needs to trust himself to let them out.

“Well, yeah.” She crosses her arms, pushing her breasts up. “Either I was going to get a show, or be mistaken.”

“A show?”

Oh, now that is an idea. Generally, exhibition and voyeurism aren’t my thing.

Clay and I are both private people with our sexual affections.

But putting on a show for our Omega? That sounds hot as hell.

Would she just want to watch me service our Alpha?

Could she resist while I'm swallowing his cock? Does she want to see what it’s like to be fucked by a monster with a knot?

“If you're wanting a show, sugar, the only actors involved will be us,” Clay promises, tucking hair behind her reddening ears.

I take a drink of my hard seltzer, the bubbles making my mouth tingle just as the band hollers on the mic that it's time to get dancing.

The crowd rushes into lines, and we pull Roan towards the back where we can teach her the steps.

She doesn't exactly get it, her turns are a little awkward and her boot-stomping a bit early, but she's smiling.

At one point, they play a slower song, and I let Roan and Clay have a moment.

They make slow squares, two-stepping near the edge where I’m watching our half-finished drinks.

My chest constricts as I watch them get lost in each other.

Clay’s features are softer, his grumpy expression melting into an almost smile while Roan looks up at him.

She has one hand on his neck, her fingers brushing over his fur in a way that I can only imagine is driving him wild.

I love my Alpha, and seeing him accept our Omega fills a part of me I didn’t realise was empty.

Once the song comes to end, though, Roan is just as quick to drag me in for more dancing.

She laughs as she tries to keep up with the steps.

We keep encouraging her, and her confidence grows, even if she’s still off-beat.

Maybe it’s just another excuse for us to come back, so we can have another lesson in dancing.

Her grin stretches from ear to ear as we shimmy through a few songs.

Sweat beads around her temple as we finish our drinks and head for more at the bar.

Before Clay can even suggest some water, Roan's already ordering it and three Diet Cokes for all of us. A giddy sort of pleasure zips through me when she takes charge, but I know it’s going to ruffle Clay’s feathers.

Which he needs. He needs to get out of this box he’s stuffed himself into. He can’t show our Omega what he’s like as an Alpha if he’s not honest with himself.