32. Brinlee

32

Ican't believe it.

He's going to meet another pack today? And choose one by next week? This is the guy I allowed into my bed, into my life, feeling hopeful for the first time in ages? Thinking that I could open up to him, that I could trust him, that this could go somewhere?

I refuse to cry. It's all my fault. I'm an idiot, apparently. Falling for him over the months, falling hard, and crushing on that other pack, only to find out Sawyer is hiding secrets.

Of course he is. Why wouldn't he? He owes me nothing. I barely know him.

Not to mention I'm hiding my own secrets, and I told myself even last night that nothing could happen between me and any guy. Not even these four guys I can't stop thinking and fantasizing about.

So why am I so mad at Sawyer? He didn't promise me anything. He wasn't even the one who asked to stay, that was me. I begged him to stay. Begged him to undress me, touch me, kiss me. Go down on me. Then fuck me.

It was good.

Stop mincing words, Brin. It was incredible.

But now you're mad at him? Double standards, much? It was okay to hide your secret from him, from them, the reason why you can't be with anyone—but him not being able to be with you, that's treason, is it?

Some tears slip down my cheeks anyway, because for a moment there I had started to believe… to believe we could find a way.

And then what? What about the debts? What about your past? What about your brother?

What about being a pole dancer in a seedy club, an orphan without a penny to your name? And you're not even an omega.

I'm not enough.

Never was.

"Brinlee?" He's back, standing at my bedroom door, fully dressed, and I can't face him. I don't even dare wipe my cheeks in case he realizes I'm crying. Hiding in the dimness of my room, I swallow more tears. "I'm going. Unless…"

Unless what? What does he want from me?

But he seems to take my silence as a reply because he nods, tousled and flushed, and God, so handsome, and sighs. "I just wanted to say… I don't want to go meet that pack tonight, for what it's worth."

He is going, though, anyway.

And in the end, that's what matters.

I go through the motions like a zombie. I never expected this to hit me this hard—this flash of hope, snuffed out so fast.

At least he was honest in the end, I tell myself. Right at the end of the night, not even waiting another day and more sex before breaking it off.

Breaking off whatever that was.

Nothing, I remind myself. There was nothing to break off. You only had a hot night with a hot guy, that was all. And if he was your first real sex buddy, well… too bad.

Yeah, I never went that far with anyone before. Working in a strip club is a recent development. It's not my usual scene. I've led a quiet life, keeping mostly to myself. Working hard. Worrying daily about money, about lodgings, about my brother. About everything.

There wasn't much time and energy left to think about boys and sex.

As if I have the time and energy now? No, it was just… that feeling. That we fit together so well. That he and I and the McGraw pack fit together nicely. The scents. The faces. The bodies.

But what do I know about any of them? Nothing.

Oh, I mean, now I know Sawyer's favorite color. Perfect. Who needs anything else?

I really am stupid.

Tyson is in good spirits when I meet him at the hospital, at least. He's not more talkative than usual, which isn't much, but it's an easy silence. The doctors are hopeful, and so is he. We'll make it out of this okay.

As long as there's money to cover the bills.

Not a given, as things stand.

I try not to worry too much as I head to the club later. The boss seemed to accept Archer's arguments and money last night. Hopefully, he's not waiting to give me the boot. If he does… that would be terrible news.

"Brin." Noah waves at me from the entrance of the club, a broom in his hand. "Haven't seen you in a while. How are you doing?"

"Good." I paste on a fake smile. "How is Gina?"

"Fine, fine. She's got her pack now, and she's busy, if you get my drift." He winks. "I hope to be an uncle one of these days."

"She's happy, then?"

"I think so, yeah." He frowns. "I never thought to ask her that, you know? It's weird. But she told me she was satisfied. Yeah, that's what she said."

Satisfied. I wonder if Sawyer will be satisfied with the pack he chooses. He said he wanted the McGraw Pack and me. And yet he was going to meet this other pack tonight and decide by next week. What did he say exactly?

"My parents have power over me. Financial power."

I frown.

"Not all of us have the luxury of waiting for the perfect pack," Noah goes on. "As long as they treat her right, I'm glad. Well, I should get back to work. Take care, Brinlee."

"You, too," I whisper and head for the dressing room on autopilot.

What power do Sawyer's parents have over him? What did he mean? And does it matter? He obviously doesn't think he can fight them. If he even wants to fight them. It's none of my business. He made his choice. He has his reasons.

We haven't even started anything, not really. We were horny, we had a fun night. There wasn't anything more, anything deeper.

Liar, liar. Even if it hadn't been your first real sex, it would have been important. It was important.

What, losing my V-card is supposed to be important? This isn't the Middle Ages.

Liar.

Okay, I know. I know I'm lying to myself. The ache down below from what we did isn't nearly as bad as the ache in my heart.

But sometimes it's the only way to keep from falling apart. Sawyer has his life, his café, his family's demands, not to mention his biological needs as an omega. I have absolutely nothing to offer him.

Nothing.

Familiar faces blur by as I cross the club, familiar voices greeting me. I should focus on what's important. I should also spend more time with my brother, now he's feeling better. We were close once, and now is our chance to become close again.

Family matters. Friends matter. They matter more than scent-matches and desire and that feeling of clicking with someone. I'm not an alpha or an omega. I'm not governed by instincts. I have a rational mind that works, thank you very much.

It used to, at least, until I met Sawyer and the guys.

My mind still stuck on that, I push on the door to the dressing room—and stop.

River is sitting on the stool in front of the mirror, frowning. He turns when I enter, gripping the sides of the stool as he spins it to face me. "Finally. You're late."

"Am I? What are you doing here? I'm the one up next on the stage."

"I have to talk to you."

"About what?" I take in his flushed cheeks and overbright eyes. "River… Are you all right?"

He waves a hand. "My suppressants weren't working right, but now I got a better brand. It's fine."

"Your heat is coming on?"

"Like I said, I'm handling it. Don't worry about that. Worry about yourself."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I whisper, suddenly feeling cold. "Did something happen?"

He gives me a long look. "Boss is in a mood. What did you do to piss him off?"

"Nothing."

"Right, it wasn't you, was it? It was your crushes."

"They aren't my crushes," I mutter.

"Sure. Well, you shouldn't have poked the beast. Be ready for the kid gloves to come off. He held back until now, as you're new here and all, but he's been dying to show you who's the boss, literally."

Cold runs through me. "River?—"

"Just a warning, sweet cheeks. Trust me. Now is the time to get out before it gets too rough, or decide you can take it."

He looks angry. Getting up from the stool, he stalks past me, slamming the door of the dressing room behind him. Why is he so angry? I hope the boss hasn't taken his annoyance with me out on him. I'll have to ask him again later, after he's calmed down.

For now, I have a show to prepare for.

My mind isn't as clear and focused as usual when I make my way to the stage. My mental glasses are fogged over, turning into mirrors, and in them I see myself, and behind me stand four men.

As if they are my destiny.

Only I'm not a believer.

I don't believe; I do. I act. And dancing is my move—to get money, to pay the bills and debts, to go on living.

Focus, I tell myself.

My show goes through without a hitch, even if my mind is still a thousand miles away, and as I curtsy theatrically, I scan the tables around the stage for familiar faces.

Only Sawyer and the McGraw Pack aren't there.

Well, of course. Sawyer is meeting this new pack tonight. And as for the McGraw Pack… why should they be here every night, showering me with bills—a girl who keeps telling them to go away?

My chest tightens. God, I thought I had more time, more chances… But no. You should always grab what you want with both hands and not let go, no matter your fears.

Too late.

I realize how much I'd come to rely on their protection, their unexpected protectiveness of me when my boss approaches the stage, an oily smile on his face.

River's words come back to me, and I hesitate. But I can't stay on the stage forever. Men wave wads of bills at me, but my boss beckons.

"I see your friends aren't here tonight to whisk you away," he says the minute I climb down the steps. "You're coming with me."

"Where?"

"Last night my friend was disappointed he didn't get his private lap dance. So I promised him he'd get it tonight."

"But I don't want?—"

"You'll do whatever he asks of you, is that clear? He's a shareholder, and we want to keep him happy."

Shareholder, my ass. Who knows what shady games my boss is playing?

"I'm not having sex with him." I lift my chin, make my voice strong. "I won't."

"You'll do whatever you're asked to do, little doll. Don't think I don't know about your debts."

Who told him? I told very few people about that. Betrayal hits me like a ton of bricks. Was it River?

"You're doing as you're told from now on," my boss continues, "no more hiding behind your friends' swagger. I am in charge here, and if you want to stay, then you follow my rules."

Shit. He's not giving me the boot. He's giving me to his friends, as he'd planned last night, and if I refuse, then he'll kick me out, fully aware I can't afford to say no and lose this job.

I'm standing in front of him, trying to look taller than I am, all of five feet from head to toe, skyscraper heels and fluffy hair included, but he towers over me. Most men do, but in this case, I hate it. I hate how small he makes me feel. I hate that he enjoys looking down on me, letting his height intimidate me.

Fuck him. I won't let him see how afraid I am right now.

"Go on," he says. "He's waiting for you at the back."

My breath rattles. "What, now?"

"Yes, now! Get to it!"

With a huff, attempting to disguise my panic as annoyance and boredom so as not to give him more power over me, I turn to look toward the back. And there are three men, leering at me. Leering is a thing, I swear. They look slimy. And one of them actually mimics licking me.

A small sound escapes me, despite my resolve. I think I'm going to throw up.

Then an achingly familiar, deep voice says from behind me, "Brinlee! Sorry we're late."

I whirl back around to stare at the McGraw Pack.

"Sorry we arrived late," Archer says, slightly out of breath. "We were trying to find Sawyer, but no luck. What's going on here? Who are the assholes over there?"

"Mind your manners," my boss grinds out. "Those are my friends and patrons of the club?—"

"They look like they're waiting to sink their filthy fangs into her," Roman mutters. "Nest of vipers, the whole lot. What the fuck did you promise them?"

"A private lap dance," I whisper.

"The fuck," Kyrian seethes. "That's a fucking big no."

"That's not your call," my boss bites out. "All three of you, out. You're no longer welcome here."

"Brinlee, you come with us," Archer says.

My eyes burn. "I can't," I whisper. "I need this job, I need the money?—"

"You see? She doesn't want your stupid machismo," my boss says, full of glee. "Get off the grounds before I call the bouncers to throw you out."

"Brinlee, dammit," Archer says. "Check the note I gave you."

"The note?" I blink at him. "You seriously want me to read a love note now?"

A dark chuckle escapes him. His blue eyes dance with mirth. "Yes. Read my love note right here and now. My heart won't take another second of not knowing your reply."

"You're crazy," I breathe.

"Read the note, Brinlee," Kyrian growls.

"What's going on here?" My boss is getting pissed. "Someone call the bouncers in here! Where are the idiots?"

Because he isn't sure he can take on two huge alphas and an angry beta, I guess. Because he's a coward.

So we're all standing here, my boss panting, spit flecking his lips, and my pack—my not pack, my whatever—waiting, vibrating with tension, for me to find the damn note, while the men at the back have stopped leering and now look annoyed.

Fuck them, too.

If Archer wants me to read his love note, then I'll read it. Anything to put off going to my doom. My boss is pissed to hell and back anyway. My job is either written off, or he'll kick my guys out and send me off to the leering assholes anyway, so what do I have to lose?

Better not think about it too hard.

"It's in the dressing room." I start toward it, Archer, Kyrian, and Roman following me.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?" My boss is making a scene and doesn't give a shit. He has to be really furious. "I told you to leave the club!"

"Not without her," Kyrian says from behind me as I make a beeline for the dressing room. "So fuck off."

A laugh is bubbling up my throat. This is hilarious—ridiculous—a disaster. I'm laughing not to cry. What do they think they're doing?

And is it worse than going for that private lap dance?

What makes you think you can afford to choose?

I stumble over my heels as I rush to open the dressing room door, Roman's hand on my elbow steadying me. I'm sobbing for breath by now, or just, you know, just sobbing. I don't know what I'm doing—what am I doing?

Grabbing my purse, I rummage inside for my wallet.

"The love note, the love note," I mutter under my breath, and I hear Roman laughing softly behind me. "What's so funny?" Grabbing my wallet, I spin about to face them. "This isn't funny. I need this job, I need the money."

"You don't need to get raped in a back room," Roman says, his laughter turning to steel in his voice. "That's not what you need, Brinlee."

Ice runs down my spine. "He wouldn't let them," I breathe.

"Your boss?" Archer leans against the doorframe. "He's done it to others. Don't you talk to the other dancers?"

I gasp. "They'd have told me, warned me…" And then River's words return once more, taking on a different meaning. "Oh, no…"

Kyrian mutters a curse.

"The note," Archer barks, and on autopilot now, I open my wallet and unfold the bills Archer gave me the first night. Indeed, there's a small note folded inside. I straighten it.

The words blur in my eyes.

"Brinlee?" Roman takes a step toward me. Stops. "Are you okay?"

I nod. Am I? The note reads, ‘Cage dancer job offer. I'll double whatever he's paying you.'

Is he serious?

Are they serious?

"You can't…" I have to stop and swallow hard, my throat dry. "Double the pay? It's too much."

"I know what he pays you," Archer says. "I can afford it."

"Take the offer, Brin." Kyrian's voice is a soft growl. "Come with us."

"We'd ask you to date us," Roman says, "but we had to take some drastic measures to ensure your safety first. Besides… we're not sure you're ready. Let's start slow."

"Like, by not letting you get fucking raped," Kyrian says.

I shiver. "I'd like that," I whisper.

"Then it's a deal," Archer says, putting out his hand for me to shake. "Cage dancing it is."

What I meant was that I'd like to date them. But like Roman said, let's start slow. Baby steps.

Especially if said steps let me pay the bills and don't demand I sell my body and soul to do it.

"Deal," I confirm and slide my hand into Archer's huge one, letting out a breath I've been holding ever since I got this pole dancing job. "And thank you."