Alpha Omega

Party Animals

The club is a wash of sweaty bodies and hairspray and deafening music, especially on sensitive wolf ears. I LOVE IT! 

Hells Spices is situated in its own part of the town, away from old nannies who call the police for excessive partying. It's in a massive brick warehouse that use to be a factory for a paper mill or something but has been converted into a hot spot for the younger crowd. The entire pack territory is set up so that the pack reserve complete with two mountains and a river running through the valley between them, where we run and live, takes up a large section of the east, the humans think it's a resort or something, whatever it is, they just know that the reserve is private property and to stay away. The town is sort of in the middle, still surrounded by woods but most wolves don't spend much time there since the reserve is big enough for us most of the time. It's about an hour away from the pack house by car. Twenty minutes west of the town is the club and half an hour from that is the highway that'll lead you into the city. It's close to our territory border, but Dom explained that our neighbors, the Silver Crest pack, often come down to party here and it's a non-issue. I don't really want to see any other wolves, but even the thought of having to deal with other wolves isn't enough to dampen my good mood.

By the time Ty and I pull up with my idiot friends laughing and hollering in the truck bed and Al and Hunter park the roaring Viper, Dom, and Cass are already waiting for us by the open door of the club, ahead of the mile-long line. I smirk as I walk past the hollering crowd and into the club. 

Inside, I barely have time to take in the blaring music. The inside has retained its industrial look, but the club owners have added bars to the windows and hung cages from long chains from the roof with girls and boys dancing on the bars. Shilouettes of demons dancing in red and orange flames are being projected onto the large expanses of the wall between the smokey arch windows and smoke is flying around the ground. To set it all off, red lights spin around the crowd. At the very back of the long factory is a Dj spinning tunes on a stage made out of curving metal sheets and chain-links. To my right is a bar lining half of the wall and lounges and bar tables are scattered along the rest of the wall and sectioned off with red rope into a VIP section and more scattered are on a raised platform to the left, with dancing bodies writhing all along the middle of the factory. 

Ty grabs my hand and I feel Dom place both hands on my hips, pushing me forward. I lose track of my friends as my mates lead me to the dancefloor. Despite my heels, I find myself actually enjoying dancing with them. I've been out dancing with Maven once or twice for our birthdays, but it was always platonic with each of us laughing at the other's bad dance moves while Alex found some girl to hit on and Wyatt, without fail, ended up behind the bar mixing drinks. If he weren't an Omega, he'd have been a bartender, and with that brain of his, he easily could have opened up his own bar someday or maybe even a club like this one, if not better. 

In my experience, I never imagined how sensual dancing could be. I mean, I've seen girls with two or more guys grinding up on them on the dance floor, looking like they're practically having sex on the dancefloor, but that's not what dancing with my mates was like. No, these boys could move! My movements were kind of limited by my heels, but Ty and Dom's dancing made up for it, spinning themselves and me around the dancefloor and swinging those sexy butts like a pro latin dancer, all with a shit-eating grin like they both knew how their moves were affecting me. Bastards, both of them.  

It must have been hours before I finally needed a break. I've experienced pain in my life, but nothing compares to dancing in six-inch heels like mine for hours. Never. Again. I limp off the dancefloor, and after a few minutes, Dom sweeps me into his arms and carries me bridal style the rest of the way to the VIP section. When we get there, Maven jumps up from the lounge and rushes over to us, lifting the rope for us, "What happened to her!" He sounds like a paranoid mother-hen.