23. Oliver

23

OLIVER

I 'm not stupid.

I know something is off about Sam wanting to go out tonight. And I'm not na?ve enough to not put the pieces together; it has something to do with our new neighbor. I just have no idea what. Shit, maybe he fucked her and now it's awkward.

Whatever it is, I don't care. I don't want to know, not tonight, at least. What I want is to hold on to this hope raging through my restless limbs.

I miss my brother.

This is the first opportunity in years that I've had to mend the brokenness between us. I don't care how painfully reluctant he is to hang out with me. I'll do anything to ensure he has a good enough time that he no longer avoids my presence.

It's sad. I'm sad.

Stepping through the doors of the bar—since my vote of nightclub was denied—I'm slammed with rowdy voices and far too many scents.

BUT! But. There's karaoke!

"Oh fuck yes!" I holler, shoving Sam further into the crowd before he can back out. "Turn that frown upside down, bitch! It's motherfucking karaoke night!"

A drunken round of applause follows my excited shout, drowning out Emmett's bark of laughter. I'm grinning ear to ear when Sam finally bats my hands away, but we're at the bar with a bunch of drunk idiots blocking his way to the door, so I win .

I wave the bartender down, ignoring her lingering gaze on the exposed skin of my chest. I gesture to a sour-looking Sam. "Six shots of whatever will make this dickwad forget his name, please!"

Project win my brother back BEGIN .

Peer pressuring Sam didn't work, but you know what did? Embarrassing the shit out of him.

With each cheer and friend I made, he downed another shot. I don't know what the bartender gave us initially, but every time Sam flagged him down for another, it's been something different each time. No longer is my brother sputtering on the random concoctions. Instead, he's praising the man behind the bar.

If I were a betting man, I would say by the chuckles of the other employees, they are giving him the nastiest shit they can find. I'm not mad about it. A little disgusted? Yes. One thousand percent. Especially after seeing Emmett fight a gag when he took a whiff of the fourth one that came out bright blue.

As I jump off the sticky stage, having just finished my third song of the night, I'm greeted with firm slaps of praise on my back and women batting their lashes at me. The only thing the girls provoke in me is a sense of longing for the one who got away.

Fuck, don't be sad; it's karaoke night!

I saunter up to the bar where my brother and alpha are laughing like old times. My heart leaps at the sight, chasing away the sorrow that threatened to ruin my night out.

Once I'm within a few feet of my pack mates, a familiar voice of a friend I made about an hour ago startles me out of my thoughts. "Nice job man! You have a killer voice!"

Turning to the platinum blond alpha, I can't help but give him a real grin. He's being genuine by the aura of excitement radiating off him.

I'm not blind. The guy is a smoke show. He's like a Fae in those yummy fantasy books. Plus, his humor is dark as shit, which is definitely my vibe, but that's as far as my attraction goes. The other two alphas that came with him are around here somewhere too I'm sure, but this one seems to be the life of the party.

I already have an alpha mate, and I'm not looking for another. If there were to be another — I slam the door closed on that train of thought hard .

"Thanks, Beckett," I say and slap my hand into his for a bro hug. "Where'd your omega go?" I ask, looking around for the spitfire.

We only briefly chatted before it was my turn to sing, but the couple seemed cool enough. I don't really remember what we talked about, having been in the thralls of a few shots. I mean, is it really a night out if you don't drink with a few new friends that you'll never see again?

He scowls. "Bathroom. Demanded I stay here. Said she would be fine," he grumbles like a caveman.

A pang pierces my chest, thinking about how we don't have that. I can picture our omega demanding independence only for Samuel to follow her to the bathroom anyway, while Emmett and I still chew our nails in worry.

"And look! I'm fine. Don't tell Remy and Nick, though," the omega in question shouts with her arms outstretched before tucking herself into her alpha's side. "Oliver, you sounded great in the ladies’ room. You have quite the following if the gossip in the stalls was correct." She raises a brow.

I groan, knowing what she's talking about. I'd hoped I wouldn't be singled out for my social media presence, but I guess we are going to have to leave sooner than I thought. Without a proper outlet for my passion, I started posting videos of my singing online and two years later my views are beyond what I ever expected.

"Aww, baby, are you blushing?" Emmett teases coming up behind me and rubbing his short scruff on the side of my neck and jaw, effectively scent marking me and making me hard.

"So it's true?" Kate doesn't let it go. "You are famous! What's your handle name?"

She's practically giddy and judging by the vodka scent swirling with Em's natural mint, the alcohol has loosened his lips. "Olinsing69."

Beckett snorts and I narrow my eyes. "Shut up, I was young," I huff, embarrassed and feeling a little vulnerable.

"That was two years ago," Emmett disagrees.

"Wait, you what?" Sam enters the conversation with a shocked expression and a thick slur.

Emmett narrows his eyes at him. "You didn't know Oliver has an online platform where people love to hear him sing?" His tone is scathing and condescending. "Some even beg for him to join their bands. Samuel Jenkins doesn't know what's going on in his little brother’s life? Color me shocked."

I groan inwardly.

"Emmett, not right now, please," I beg, feeling the high of our night out dissipating.

Something shifts in the pair across from me. Beckett and Kate stiffen and if the lights weren't so dim, I think I would be able to see the blood drain from their faces.

"Wait, what are your names?" Beckett demands, staring daggers at Sam and Em.

Now that I think about it, I think I'm the only one that actually introduced myself to them and just as Oli.

"Uh," I shift, picking up on an undercurrent of danger. "That's Emmett and Samuel. Why?"

"Last names?" The alpha growls, muscles bunching with barely restrained violence.

Emmett releases me, stepping forward to shield me from the angry alpha. My eyes dart between Kate and Beckett, confusion and a sickening sense of foreboding making my stomach twist.

"What's it to you?" My mate demands, straightening. I can almost visualize the alcohol burning from his system.

Sam on the other hand? He's far too fucking plastered for his instincts to register the need to defend the pack. "Jenkins and Emmett's is Raven."

"You motherfuckers!"

Before Beckett can get a grip on Sam's throat, Kate snatches her mate's bicep, and stops him. "Stop! Don't!"

The bodies around us move away, shooting wary looks and ushering their loved ones away. I cringe and grip the hem of Emmett's shirt. We may be a similar build and he is only an inch taller than me, but I feel completely surrounded by his protection heating our bond and his warm body in front of me.

"You saw her today, Kate. How can we let these assholes breathe and laugh when all she's doing is crying?! After everything she's been through, Kate." He's pleading.

Tugging him a little harder, Kate steps between us and grabs his cheeks in her small hands. "And you know this isn't what she would want. This would only hurt our friend more, okay?"

Beckett's chest heaves, and his lips twitch in an effort to hold back a snarl. His eyes bore into his omega's desperate gaze until his shoulders relax just a smidge.

My heart fucking thunders and my mind is all over the place, trying to understand what the hell is going on at the same time Emmett pounds through our tether. He's a mess of instinct and racing thoughts.

"BECKETT!" one of his other pack mates barks, shoving through the crowd. The third alpha of their group, Remy maybe, swoops in to pull Kate from between us.

"Fine," Beckett grunts and follows his omega and seething pack mates without a backwards glance. Like we're nothing more than the sticky beer on the bottom of his shoe.

"What the hell just happened?" I breathe.

"I don't know but?—"

Sam snorts, cutting Emmett off. "What a couple of buzzkills, am I right?"

The one time, the one fucking time I would prefer my dickbag of a brother to be his shitty self, he's wasted and completely unhelpful. We were accosted and definitely accused of something awful.

"Another round!"

Fucking hell.