33. Roman

33

Brinlee gathers her stuff from the gaudy dressing room, and I accompany her to her asshole boss so she can resign.

"You what?" he hisses, his face an ugly mask of fury.

"I'm bowing out," she says. "Stepping down. Leaving this job."

"You won't get another chance, if you come later with your tail between your legs, begging," he says. "Is that clear?"

"Crystal."

"Do they know what you need all the money for? Do they know who you are, and why you have debts?"

My ears prick up. I watch her pretty face, and she winces a little.

"It doesn't matter," she says. "I'm going."

"You'll just up and go," he seethes now, "abandoning your post without a warning? Where am I supposed to find another dancer on such short notice?"

"The same way you served her up as a fucking appetizer to your friends without a warning," I say, "and without any fucking right to do so."

"You're a slut," he seethes, "a fucking whore."

My vision narrows. I launch myself at him, ready to smash his stupid face, but she holds me back, holds all of us back just by stepping in front of us.

"Let it go," she whispers. "Let it go, guys."

It's a struggle to obey, to think through the red haze of fury.

The bouncers finally arrive, but Archer and Kyrian turn toward them, folding those powerful arms over their chests, and the bouncers stop and cower.

"We're leaving," Kyrian announces, and the bouncers practically bow out of the way.

It's kinda funny, though I know that my alphas are pretty intimidating, even when they're not trying to be—and now they are. Those dark scowls can turn anyone's guts to water.

Alphas are made like that, to compare dicks and butt heads, fight until the top alpha wins. Archer is a top alpha. Kyrian is a close second to him. Those two bouncers, alphas though they may be, stand no chance, and they know it.

"You'll regret this!" the asshole boss calls after Brinlee as we walk her out of the club. "You'll come begging!"

"Never," she whispers, and I realize there are tears on her cheeks and fear in her eyes. I exchange a concerned look with the guys.

She really is desperate. We have to make sure she never endangers herself like this again.

Because she's ours.

Archer drives—he likes to drive us, in every sense of the word—and Kyrian rides shotgun. Through silent agreement, I'm the one sitting at the back with her, the beta, the least threatening male of the pack.

She's quiet, fiddling with the zipper of her purse, lower lip drawn between her teeth. She has wiped her cheeks, but her eyes are still shining too bright.

And I don't know what the fuck to say. It annoys the hell out of me. Here I am, beside her, after rescuing her from the evil club-lord—yeah, I read too much fantasy, sue me, Archer always says so—and I don't know how to comfort her, how to reassure her.

How to broach the topic of the pack.

If I even should.

Probably not the best time.

Probably shouldn't put my arm around her, either.

Think of a frightened animal, I tell myself. If she's scared, tread softly. Give her space. Be kind.

Always be kind.

"Hey, Brinlee…" I start.

"You can call me Brin," she whispers, still not looking at me.

"Brin. Can I hold your hand?"

That gets her attention. She glances at me, eyes wide. "Okay."

So I take her small hand in mine. It's cold and clammy. I don't squeeze too hard. "Are you all right?"

She nods. Gives me a tiny smile. "Thanks."

"No problem." I turn the words around and around inside my head before I venture, "Do you trust us?" At her hesitation, I go on, "You don't know us yet, fair enough. But you trust Sawyer, right?"

Another nod.

"Do you want us to try and find him?"

"No. He's busy."

"Is he, now?" I frown. "You're shaking."

"I'm cold."

"Want me to hold you?" The words pour out of me, and shit, I'm pushing her again, but she scoots closer to me. "Okay."

She curls up against me, small and shivering, and I'm hot and aching.

We drive like this for a while, in silence. Archer keeps shooting us looks through the rearview mirror. He's driving in circles through the city center, allowing us time.

But eventually, the talk has to happen.

"I don't want to take you home, leave you there alone," I say softly. "If I invite you to stay over at our place, is that too much? I promise nothing will happen. You'll have your room and a door that locks. We just want you safe and warm for the night."

She murmurs something I don't catch.

"And I'll call Sawyer again. Maybe he can come over, too." I frown. "He never answers my texts. It bugs me. The other night when he escorted you home, he was secretive. Wait… did something happen between you two?"

She draws back just a little, blushing hotly.

"Oh, right… That answers my question, I guess." I snort. "Go, Sawyer. Not so timid, is he?"

"You slept with him?" Kyrian growls.

Her blush grows darker. She hides her face against my shoulder again. "Um…"

Is this going to be a problem? Our second alpha has only just opened up about wanting to add her and Sawyer to the pack, but I don't know how he feels about them getting together first, without us.

"He'd better have represented us well," Archer finally growls, and I guffaw.

"You can bet he did," Kyrian grunts, "he looks like a firecracker. Huh, Brin?"

Brin giggles against my shirt.

Archer is grinning, and I relax. Okay, then. Looks like we're past this hurdle. The guys are fine with it, I'm fine with it.

Question is, does Brinlee only want Sawyer, or are we also in the picture? Most alphas and omegas want a pack, need one, but does she belong to either one of those categories?

"You don't smell like an omega," I whisper, nuzzling her hair. Of course, her hair is hard with hairspray and the chemical scent of the makeup she uses on the stage forms a thick layer over her natural scent. "You really are a delta, huh?"

"Sorry," she murmurs.

"What? No, don't be. Delta is excellent. I wouldn't even care if you had no letter on your ID at all."

She giggles a little again, and I love the sound. "But the others…?"

"We never cared about designations in this pack," Archer says. "We're not about to start now."

"But you need an omega to make it official," she argues.

"Well, we do have someone in mind for that role." Archer winks through the rearview mirror.

I grin.

"Speaking of whom…" Kyrian says, his voice deepening. "You said he's busy tonight? Busy doing what?"

"Uh… Oh, man." She lifts her head off my shoulder, gives me a slightly anguished look that has me in knots. "You're set on him, aren't you?"

"We kind of are, yes," I tell her gently. "Just like we're set on you."

But she's biting her lip again. "That's going to get complicated… I mean, even more than before."

We're parked outside our building, and I've pulled her back against my body because she's shaking.

That's because Archer has lost his legendary cool.

"He, what?" Archer roars. "He did what?"

"Calm down," I hiss. "You're scaring the shit out of her, don't you see?"

Kyrian grabs Archer's shoulder and squeezes. "Calm the fuck down, alpha."

But Archer is on a roll. "He went to see another pack? He's going to choose another fucking pack over us?"

"We never made an offer," I remind him. "He's free to look."

"And shop around," Kyrian says darkly.

"His family," Brinlee says, her voice thin. "Something about his family forcing him to choose."

"Fuck his family," Archer says but it's quieter. He punches the steering wheel. "Fuck."

I appreciate the sentiment, and a strange rage fills my chest, too—he's ours, he should be with us, not looking at other packs—but the fact remains: we never made an offer.

"I thought we shouldn't rush things," I whisper. "I thought going slow was the right way. And I was wrong."

"We all were," Kyrian says. "You both thought I didn't want it. That slowed us down."

"Don't you dare blame yourself," Archer says, Kyrian's self-loathing distracting him from his fury. His drive to protect us is stronger than his anger.

There's a reason we love Archer.

Okay, several reasons, but this is one of them. He puts his pack above everything else, always, like a true leader and mate.

"Guys," I say. "We shouldn't be arguing about this here in the car, and…" I nod down at Brinlee and mouth the words "scaring her" to my alphas. "And we should go up, make some hot chocolate, relax on the sofa. We'll talk to Sawyer."

She shoots me a questioning look.

"He hasn't chosen yet, has he? Then we're still in the race. Or rather, we will be, once we make him an offer."

"Oh, he'll be thrilled," she whispers. "He likes you guys so much. But what if his family won't let him join you?"

"We'll crush and burn that bridge when we reach it," Kyrian says with a toothy grin.

"And as for you, Brin…" Archer starts. "As for you, we should make you comfortable for the night."

I don't text Sawyer again. I don't call him, either. Last thing he needs while visiting another pack is me bothering him. There's a time and place for certain things, and I want him sitting with us, in privacy, to discuss pack business.

And like Archer said, as for Brinlee… She's skittish. Something more is bothering her, apart from her scumbag of a boss at the club. After all, she's out of there but she's still strung up with tension.

She may be worried about her new job, I remind myself. She doesn't know us enough to trust us, after all. She won't relax until she gets to know us better, and until she can see for herself that we really want a dancer for the bar, not a sex slave.

Though that last part had a nice ring to it…

Bad boy, Roman. Down. Wait for your turn.

Still. There's something she's hiding, a thorn in her soul. I need her to trust us so I can hopefully remove it, and then we can make our offer to her, too.

It's about time…