Page 1 of Pack’s Pledge
CHAPTERONE
Britt
“Here’syour ginger lime spritz and this one is your blackberry-mint-and-lemon,” I said, passing two elaborate drinks over the polished bartop. The spritz was a little full. It sloshed over the rim, and I groaned internally behind my professional smile. I shouldn’t be making that kind of rookie mistake, not when I’d been doing this for years now.
The alpha didn’t notice, his eyes already roaming over the other people at the bar even as he thanked me and tossed a fiver down.
I picked it up and tucked it into my apron pocket, but didn’t bother thanking him: he was already gone. Off to find some pretty omega to flirt and dance with, and maybe even take home. The club were busy tonight–Thursdays usually were, with packs gearing up for a long weekend of debauchery–and omegas flitted from table to table, like butterflies looking for the right flower. Even so, the bar was slow as usual, and I had plenty of time to watch them purring and fluttering their eyelashes at the alphas manspreading all over the leather booth seats.
I knew what they called this place: Club Heat. The exclusive club where alphas and omegas met and mingled, and sometimes, despite management’s best precautions–waivers and contracts and background checks and a specially-designed air-filtration system an alcohol-free bar–mated. Right there on the dance floor, or more likely, in the bathrooms, for an added touch ofromance.
I just called it a job.
Ardor, my resumé read.Bartender.
Behind the bar, in my black button down and black apron, I was invisible. I wore just enough neutral makeup to bring in the tips, not enough to make me stand out at all: subtle black eyeliner, black mascara, a pink blush and lip gloss that counteracted the weird bar lighting that always washed me out. My dark hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. I adjusted my apron as I waited for the next tilt of the head, the next beckoning hand or raised eyebrow that signalled a patron wanted to order. It was uncomfortable tonight, tugging at the back of my neck. I must have tied it too tight. I looked down to untie the waist, my short, unpainted fingernails tugging at the too-tight knot.
“Hey,” came a low voice, and I snapped my head up.
“Hi, what can I get–” I stopped, my breath catching in my throat as I met his eyes.
At my last job–at a hotel bar, a real bar that served martinis and old fashioneds and had never evenseena bottle of zero-proof gin–Alphas had been a rarity, and I had whispered with the other staff–the night-shift front desk girl and the security guard–about who they could be. A CEO? Not an actor, if we didn’t recognize them. A politician? Alphas were easy to pick out, even if we couldn’t smell their scents. “Dirt,” I would guess, giggling with the front desk. “Nah, he looks like more a… acloudless skyscent,” she say back, rolling her eyes.
I’d been working here at Ardor for months, and for the most part, the surprise of an alpha was gone.
But this one…
The alpha in front of me now was tall, a full head taller than me, and broad. He, too, wore a black button down shirt, but his looked different than my own did: fitting snugly over firm pecs and thick biceps, narrowing into a trim waist where it was tucked into black suit pants. He placed two hands on the edge of the bar, leaning in, and I noticed his sleeves were rolled up. It was against the dress code, but I couldn’t help but stare as the muscles of his forearms shifted under the skin.
Stop drooling, Britt.I hoisted my professional smile back into place and forced myself to meet his eyes again. His face was gorgeous, too, tan and smooth-shaven, with long, dark lashes ringing deep green eyes. If he hadn’t picked up an omega by the end of the night I would eat my apron–at least then I would have a good excuse for the weird way my stomach was feeling, all twisty and warm.
“What can I get for you?”
“Just two sparkling waters, please.”
Fine by me–made my job easier, didn’t it? I nodded and bent to retrieve two glass bottles from the below-bar cooler. I stole a moment to take a deep, steadying breath of the artificially chilled air, hoping the blush would retreat from my heated face. I filled a pair of tall glasses with ice and poured the water, then garnished each glass with a twist of lime and a cocktail straw, before sliding them over the bar on cocktail napkins. ARDOR, they read in tone-on-tone embossed letters.Just in case you got too drunk off glorified grape juice to remember where you were.
“Here you are,” I said, expecting him to take them and leave.
He didn’t. Instead, he sat up on one of the barstools–they were always empty–and took a sip.
“Refreshing,” he said, and I smiled my professional smile again. It had years of practice hiding annoyance, I hoped it was sturdy enough to hide the blush that was returning to my cheeks.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s from a spring in Northwest Italy that’s naturally carbonated.”
“Oh–oh, really?” he asked. “How does that happen?”
I nearly rolled my eyes. Like he wanted a lecture on sparkling water from a beta when there were omegas to be had, out in droves tonight. I decided to humor him though. It was only a matter of time before he went off in search of greener–orslicker,or whatever–pastures, but maybe he’d tip me really well.
That and I didn’t want him to leave.
“Volcanic gasses dissolve into a spring and produce bubbles,” I said, trying to remember what I’d read on the back of the bottle on extra-slow nights. “Also you might be tasting the naturally-occurring minerals, there’s a light salination that’s really exhilarating.”
“Exhilarating,” he echoed, and his eyes darkened with mischief. “I would think you must know a thing about that, working here.”Here it came, the pivot.It always did. He’d ask about a particular omega he’d danced with, wondering if she were a regular. I was almost–almost–disappointed that we’d arrived at this point so soon. He really was just my type.
Except that he was an alpha.
“I suppose so,” I said, neutral, and he grinned, sending heat between my legs and a flutter down into my stomach. I didn’t matter that Ididn’tknow much about exhilarating, not really. It wasn’t like I was picking up alphas left and right at work, and in fact, working here nights and weekends meant I hadlesstime to date. I hadn’t been–ahem–exhilaratedin… a long time. “A lot of people seem to find it exhilarating, at least. So many omegas in one place?” I looked down at his hands, wrapped around the pair of sweating glasses, then back up. “And alphas, of course.” Alphas likehim. Alphas like— But it had been years since I’d seen that particular alpha.