Chapter 6 Teach me your ways

The music is loud and thumping, the blue, purple and neon lights flashing in the dim interior. We pause just at the entrance, both of us scanning the crowd.

“Do you see them?” Ren asks, leaning into my side to be heard over the bass.

I shake my head, fighting disappointment, even though I haven’t looked everywhere. The place is packed, and it’s more than possible they’re not just within the first ten feet of the club. Doesn’t stop me from feeling discouraged. “No.”

They aren’t going to come. Why would they? The Calloway pack is at least ten years older than me. The idea of clubbing was probably a turn off to them. By inviting them here, rather than to dinner like Creed suggested, I undoubtedly showed my age, how young I am.

Ren grabs my arm and wiggles me. “The night is still young. They’ll be here,” she reassures me. “Come on. Let’s get a drink in you and then we’ll tear up that fucking dance floor until they show.”

I laugh and allow her to pull me through the crowd to the bar, where she has no problem pushing her way through the already waiting patrons to lean against the glossy black surface. There isn’t space for me next to her, so I stand at her back. Or I would stand at her back, but she turns to the guy next to her, a big hulking alpha, and pats him on his arm. “Excuse me, could you budge over so my friend can squeeze in?”

The guy turns to blink down at her. His eyes are already heavy lidded with alcohol, clearly intoxicated, but he grins when he sees Ren, then he sees me standing behind her. “Must be my lucky night. Not one, but two pretty ladies wanting my attention.”

Ren cocks her head to the side, sending her blond hair slithering over her shoulder. “Not really, just asking for some space. You’re just so big that you take up too much of it.”

The alpha takes this as a compliment, though I know Ren didn’t mean it as such. His chest puffs out, taking up even more space. “Allow me,” he says like a gallant knight or something, before he grabs my arm and tugs me toward him, wedging me between him and the bar. He leans one elbow on the top, caging me in on one side.

Ren on my other side, grabs my arm and tries to get me away from him. “Really not what I had in mind, my guy.” She tugs and I move about a half inch before the alpha moves to take up the space between our bodies.

I freeze when his head dips and he takes a deep inhale of my hair, right in the space behind my ear, like he has the right to. Ren watches this with wide, shocked eyes. The dude must be super drunk, because this is so far out of the bounds of propriety. No one just scents someone like this… not unless it’s clear both parties are interested.

And I am very much not interested.

He grumbles and takes another deep breath. “ Fuck . Are you an omega?”

I shake my head and throw my elbow into his stomach. “None of your goddamn business. Let me go.” He grunts when I elbow him again, and then goals when Ren slams her palm into his shoulder, trying to get him to move back.

But we’re just two omegas and he’s a goddamn alpha, so all it takes is him barking, “ stop ” and we both do. The command slithers over me, makes my body pliant. It’s the worst feeling in the world to have no control over your actions.

Of course he wasn’t specific in his command, so in the next instant, we’re both struggling against him again.

“There you are, angel,” a low, dangerous voice comes from behind the alpha. “We wondered where you’d gotten off to.”

“We were worried something happened,” comes an equally dangerous second voice. “But now we see some douche waffle thinking it’s okay to put his hands on what doesn’t belong to him.”

With a drunken snarl, the alpha caging me in turns, bumping into the guy next to him at the bar. I take advantage of the sudden space and press closer to Ren, who wraps an arm around my waist to pull me away from the alphas.

When I see who intervened, my heart jumps and my stomach swoops. Atticus and Jude Calloway are eyeing the alpha with murder in their gazes. Atticus’ expression softens as he looks at me and Ren. “You okay, angel?”

I nod. Jude grins. “‘Course she is. We’re here now.” He holds out a hand palm up in invitation, and I don’t hesitate to slip my fingers into his. His grip is warm and gentle as he pulls me—and by extension, Ren—away from the bar and the alpha. “We got a table in the VIP area,” he explains, tucking us between him and Atticus. “Quieter, fewer assholes.”

Atticus glances down at me. “Why don’t you head up there? Hale and Creed are waiting.”

My brow furrows as I look up at him. “What are you going to do?”

Jude slips an arm around my waist, cuddling me against his body. My mind whirls, my body heats. I’m not used to this kind of physical touching, casual, like he’s been holding me for days, weeks, months. Not like this is literally the first conversation we’ve had. But I can’t deny that it feels… really fucking right. Like this is where I’m meant to be. “We’re gonna make sure he understands that actions have consequences, bellybutton.”

Well, there’s no reason that should make my body light up, but apparently the threat of violence on my behalf does it for me. My mouth opens on a little pant, and I shift, my thighs rubbing together to ease the sudden ache between them.

At least I’m not perfuming. The suppressants my father has me on don’t allow for that. There’s no flood of my scent, just the faint acidic sweetness of pineapple and the bite of chili.

Jude chuckles and presses a kiss to my temple. “Naughty girl,” he purrs into my hair. And good lord, it’s a wonder I don’t strip off my panties and throw them at him.

Do not embarrass me, Haven.

My father’s command filters through my head, like it always does when I’m feeling the urge to do something that would undoubtedly bring embarrassment to him. Even if I look nothing like the Haven Bell that the world knows, all it would take is one person to recognize me, one person to sell a photo to the media and I would break the command.

So I shift away from Jude and straighten my spine. His brow furrows as he watches me do it, but he respects the boundary I’ve apparently put in place.

“Don’t bother,” I say, eyeing the alpha. “He’s not worth it.”

The drunk snarls, but doesn’t do anything more than that, blinking like an idiot and swaying on his feet. “I beg to differ, angel,” Atticus says from the other side of Ren. “He put his hands on you. He should at least lose a finger.”

Oh, Jesus .

“He should lose his tongue,” my best friend growls. “He barked at us.”

Jude and Atticus stiffen and growl. “Oh, he’s losing his whole fucking hand now,” Tic rumbles.

Ren chuckles next to me, and laces her fingers through mine, giving them a squeeze of support. I don’t know if her nearness makes me bold or what, but I turn to the alpha next to her and say honestly, “I can’t be involved in a maiming, Atticus. What would my father’s supporters think?”

His brows drop as he looks back at me. I hold his gaze, letting him see as much of my truth as I dare. If they decide to do something to this man, just because he’s drunk at a bar and a bit of an asshole, I won’t be able to spend time with them. That’ll be it. I can’t risk breaking one of his commands because of something they’ve done.

“Image is everything to my father.”

Jude sighs. “Fine, button. Whatever you want.” He points a threatening finger at the still swaying man. “You’re so fucking lucky we’re not going to teach you a lesson. But touch what doesn’t belong to you again, and we fucking will. Clear?”

The drunk looks like he wants to say something, argue with them, start a fight, and I clamp my mouth shut to keep from begging with him to just let it go.

Apparently deciding she’s over the drama, Ren tugs me away from the three alphas, weaving through the crowd and heading toward the stairs that lead up to the VIP area, a balcony that overlooks the dance floor. There’s a security guard at the base of them, and I’m not sure how we’re going to get past him without Tic and Jude. Maybe they put us on a list?

I glance behind me to find Jude and Atticus still chatting with the alpha. Though chatting isn’t the right word, they’re crowding him, stares intense, clearly threatening him.

Ren chuckles again, pulling me into her side. “Damn, girl. You’ve worked some kind of voodoo on them.”

I give her a dazed look. “I’ve literally never spoken to either of them before. They just come to my father’s rallies or meetings or press conferences and stare at me.”

“Well, they obviously like what they see, babe.”

“Little mouse.” My gaze leaves my best friend to find Hale and Creed standing at the bottom of the stairs, just behind the security guard.

“Everything okay?” Creed asks, brows arched in question, though his gaze is focused on the three men still at the bar.

Ren nods and answers for me. “Oh, yeah, everything is just fine. Your pack mates are handling it.” She drags me past the big beta protecting the stairs and he does nothing to stop us. My best friend comes to a stop in front of the prime of the Calloway pack and holds out her hand. “I’m Florence—Ren—Karlin. Haven’s best friend.”

Hale eyes her fingers cautiously, like he’s not used to omegas being so forward with him. But that’s just Florence. Something I’ve always envied about her.

When she just stands there with her hand outstretched, waiting, an amused smile curves his mouth. He clasps her hand to shake. “Hale Calloway.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, turning to the alpha next to him. “And you’re Creed.”

Creed grunts his response and doesn’t bother with the niceties of shaking her hand. He’s still staring over our heads. I glance around and find Jude and Tic heading our way, their business with the alpha finished.

Hale cups my elbow, bringing my attention forward. “Come on, omega,” he murmurs, urging me up the stairs. “Let’s get you and your friend a drink.”

“Oh, yes, please,” Ren says before I can respond. She loops her arm through mine, effectively knocking his hand away, and pulls me up the stairs with her, leaning close to whisper. “I don’t know what voodoo you cast over those men, but good god, Haven, teach me your ways.”

I frown and look over at her. “I don’t know what you mean.”

She laughs. “Sure. You have an entire pack panting after you, getting all possessive over you after what? One conversation? I’ve never had a pack respond to me even remotely like that.”

My brow furrows as we make it to the top of the stairs and enter the VIP area. It’s both a relief and a detriment. There’s fewer people, and that feels better, safer for my omega. But since there are less people, faces are more easily recognizable, more memorable. And the VIP section is the type of place my father’s supporters would hang out.

Though everyone knows The Market is owned by the Falcone pack and they’ve loudly denounced him and his beliefs, so the likelihood of any of his supporters being here is slim. Still, I let my hair fall forward, hiding my face as the alphas urge us over to a table, and get us seated. “What do you want to drink, little mouse?” Hale asks. “Champagne?”

It’s a guess, and a good one, considering when I’m with my father in public—which is almost whenever I’m in public—I drink champagne or wine. But honestly, I’m not a fan of either. It’s just what my father thinks I should drink in order to not seem like an omega who usually favor sweeter drinks.

“I’ll have a Bee’s Knees.” It’s one of their signature cocktails and it’s a delicious blend of lavender honey, lemon and vodka. Just the right amount of sweet.

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it, turning his attention to Ren, like a gentleman.

Ren asks for the same as she slides into the booth, ignoring the hungry looks being thrown her way from the table of older alphas next to us. I swear she doesn’t even notice them. For all that Ren says she wants a pack—and I know she does—she doesn’t seem to be hunting for one.

I think she’s secretly hoping that she’ll run into her scent match pack someday, and that’s why she doesn’t pursue any other avenues for finding one, like the scent clinics. Though that would be the best way to find a scent match.

I slide in next to her, and Tic moves like he’s going to sit next to me, but Jude shoves him out of the way. “Nope, not today Satan!” he laughs. “My spot!”

“Jude don’t be a dick,” Creed mutters, sliding in on the other side of the circular booth, but not getting too close to Ren. I don’t know if he’s making a point with it? Or if he’s just lazy.

“Not being a dick.” He drapes an arm over my shoulder and pulls me into his side. I get the impression that this is how Jude is, touchy feely at all times. “Just know what I want.”

My face heats. Silence descends on the table. I want to ask questions to get to know them, but I’m feeling suddenly shy and awkward and I don’t know what to ask that doesn’t sound like I’m totally inept at dating. Which I am . I am totally inept at dating.

I don’t count the monitored courting meetings at AOA, where professors watch every interaction and word said.

Ren nudges me with her elbow and when I look at her, she raises her eyebrows in encouragement. I frown at her, sink my teeth into my bottom lip. She wrinkles her nose. I shake my head.

After a moment, she sighs and turns her attention back to the table of alphas. I do the same and freeze when I find them all staring at us.

“You two just had an entire conversation, didn’t you?” Tic asks with his head tilted.

I shrug. “Yes.”

Ren leans into my side. “We’ve been friends for years, so I can read every single one of her facial tics now.”

“You met at the American Omega Academy?” Jude asks and that question alone is enough for me to know they already know the answer, which means they did some amount of research on me.

“Yep,” Ren confirms. “We were roomies at AOA. She dragged to the top of the standings and I made sure she had some fun in between all the studying we did.”

I relax a little at the topic. This is safe. I can talk about my time at AOA without worrying about repercussions from my father’s commands or without feeling awkward about being on a date with this pack, with my best friend as a chaperone. Because although neither of us admitted it and the Calloways haven’t so much as batted an eye at it, that is exactly what Ren is.

Hale returns to the table and slides in next to Tic on the other side, glaring at Jude as he drapes himself all over me. As the prime, does he feel he should be the one to sit next to me? I know every pack dynamic is different, but it feels like Hale is angry Jude is next to me. In the next moment, he’s smiling, and I can’t tell if it’s a mask or if he really doesn’t care.

My life with my father has taught me to be hypervigilant about the mood changes of those around me, so I can try to head off any anger before it blooms into something dangerous. Since usually it’s dangerous to me.

“I’ve always been super curious about the classes and stuff they make you take at the academy,” Jude says, turning toward me eagerly. “Alphas don’t take classes. We just listen to our instincts, mostly.”

Ren snorts. “It’s not about the classes so much as it’s about keeping us away from alphas with those newly aroused instincts.”

I wrinkle my nose and nod. “Yep. Omegas when they first present… we uh, perfume a lot. Usually round any alpha that isn’t related by blood. And instead of keeping the alphas of the world under control-”

“Because we all know how that would go-”

“They bundle the omegas away until we have better control. Because who would blame an alpha for fucking a perfuming omega?”

I look up and find all four of them looking at me and Ren with shock. I glance at her and find her already looking at me. We’ve complained about this so much, about how at the root of the need for the omega academies there’s the inkling of victim blaming. Similar to the defense used in a rape case, ‘were you dressed provocatively?’ Only in the case of an omega it’s, ‘how was your scent? Were you perfuming?’ As if a young omega’s inability to control scent is their fault.

It’s not news to us, but I suppose it’s not something that alphas here all that much.

“You mean they put omegas in school to keep you away from alphas that can’t control themselves?”

“Yes?” I don’t mean it as a question, but it’s there all the same.

“And in the meantime we learn about pack dynamics, how to calm enraged alphas, alpha and omega physiology, nesting, arts and crafts, cooking, cocktail making and essentially every other thing to make us appealing to a pack,” Ren says. “So it’s not all bad.”

I nudge her with a shoulder. “We could also take classes in mathematics, science, history and anything else that struck our fancy.”

“As electives ,” Ren clarifies. “But the ones I listed were required. And the two of us passed with top marks in every single one. Haven was summa cum laude.”

My cheeks flush again. But not one of them comments on it. Thankfully.

“What electives did you take?” Creed asks, his eyes focused on me with intensity.

“Oh, um,” I look down, not able to hold his gaze. “I didn’t take any electives.” I wanted to, lord knows I did. But my father didn’t want me to. Which again was so weird, seeing as he doesn’t want me to be an omega. Why have me take all the omega classes, but none of the same ones that betas would take? I have no clue what he was thinking, other than that maybe he always knew I’d never need to actually know any of it. Why would I when I’ll remain a puppet for the rest of my life?

Well, that and he loves to brag about how I was so accomplished as an omega, but I’ve turned my back on my designation thanks to how strong my belief in his policy reform is.

“Too focused on learning the best way to snag a pack?” Hale asks, sounding judgy as hell.

Ren picks up on it, and her gaze snaps to him, her eyes narrowed. “No, her father- Ow!” I pinch her thigh hard to keep her from spilling something she shouldn’t. If she does, there’s a chance I’ll end up with a migraine even if I’m not the one telling secrets. My best friend glares at me as a server comes up with our drinks. I ignore her. She knows why I did what I did.

After a moment, she sighs and leans into me again. “She was too bloody brilliant in her other classes and needed to give the rest of us a chance to shine,” she finally says, glaring at Hale.

He meets her gaze and then seems to realize how his question sounded and looks at me with an apologetic look on his face. “It didn’t mean it like that, little mouse.”

I take a sip of my drink. “I understand. It’s fine.”

Jude snorts and cuddles me closer, and I melt into him, his sea salt and driftwood scent tickling my nose through the descenter I know they pump through the air conditioner. “He’s an ass, bellybutton,” he says into my temple. “But he means well.”

I nod. “I know. Besides, we’re all aware of how my father feels about packs.” I choose my words carefully, putting it all on the man who sired me. I want them to catch the meaning there. He feels that way about packs. I don’t.

I’m not sure it registers though, not when Jude pulls away from me slightly and Tic and Hale exchange a look. Only Creed holds my gaze, head tilted in a way that makes me think he understood.

There’s an uncomfortable moment of silence and then Jude is back to leaning into my side. I look up at him. “Why do you keep calling me bellybutton?”

He chuckles and runs his nose over my cheek. “Because your last name is Bell and you’re cute as a button.”

Ren laughs. “She is pretty cute, though I’m not sure that’s the compliment she was hoping for tonight.”

My cheeks flare a bright red, even though she’s not wrong. Wearing one of Ren’s designs with my hair down and curled and with a smoky eyes and red lip, I’d been going for sexy. But maybe I’m just not able to do that. To be that.

“You can be sexy as hell and still be cute as hell, too, bellybutton.”

I hum and take a sip of my drink. “Think we can negotiate a different nickname?”

“Not a chance,” Jude grins at me while Tic shakes his head.

“Good luck with that. He still has Hale in his phone as King Charles.”

Ren and I exchange a look and I’m glad I’m not the only one who looks confused by that. “Did you have a King Charles spaniel or something?”

Jude burst out laughing. “Nah, nothing like that. It’s like ‘all hail the king.’ Get it ‘hail’.”

I laugh at the disgruntled look on Hale’s face. “I wouldn’t mind so much if he just called me ‘king.’”

“I bet you wouldn’t, your majesty.” Hale’s eyes flare a bit when the honorific falls from my mouth, heat burning in their depths.

“Careful, little mouse, I might like that too much.”

Ren wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “Gross. I don’t want this glimpse into my best friend’s future sex life.”

My cheeks flare bright red and I curse myself for not being adult enough to handle hearing the word ‘sex’ out loud while surrounded by other adults. Especially since I’m sincerely hoping that I actually will have a sex life in the very near future. With these men, if I have any say over it.

Jude, who is still draped over my shoulder like a shawl, senses my unease and changes the subject. “So when you ladies sneak out, is it just for drinking? Or do you also shake your groove thang?”

Tic tilts his head back and groans. “God, Jude, don’t say it like that.”

He blinks at his pack mate innocently. “What? Groove thang? Lots of people say it like that, Tic. Lots .”

I laugh and see the reaction it has on the rest of the table, the tension melting back into easy comradery.

“Neither of us are big drinkers,” I answer his question. “We mostly get together to talk.”

Ren nods. “This girl is so freaking busy. I have to practically tie her to the chair to get her to sit long enough to have a conversation.”

“But we have been known to shake our groove thangs occasionally.”

Jude throws his head back and laughs before he taps my drink with one finger. “Drink up, button. We’re going dancing.”

As soon as the liquor is gone, Jude pops up to his feet. I don’t miss that his drink is untouched on the table. In fact, most of the alphas haven’t touched their drinks. It’s a niggling thought, but I dismiss it when Jude holds out his hand to me, eyes shining, and a grin on his handsome face. “Come on, button. Dance with me.”