амега (peterick)

onze.

Since creating my Bond with Patrick, authority has overtaken instinct, and life has become all in all a huge pain in the ass. If I'm not constantly boned for the Omega or jerking myself off in the bathroom over him every ten minutes, I'm growling at and staring down the Alphas salivating over him dancing. So basically, every single person who has the nerve to visit Reine Loups.

By all means, I hadn't expected this to be easy, not by a long shot, but so far the amount of times I've thought about ripping someone's head off for getting tipsy and having a good time is growing beyond ridiculous, and quite frankly, it's starting to piss me off.

I've quickly uncovered a solution to the issue, however. In order for myself to have a good time (because me time is crucial; after all, it's important to relax and let go of stress after a long, worrisome day), I simply have to thwart my surroundings, neutralize the people invading my personal space, by elbowing my way to the front of the crowd. Problem is, watching Patrick perform for too long results in me needing regular restroom breaks, which stimulates an insane amount of jealousy when it comes to bumping shoulders on my way to and from the bathroom.

I'm stuck in a never ending loop of enraged arousal.

Even as he struts from one side of the stage to the other, I think it's safe to say Patrick is enjoying my confliction a hell of a lot more than I am. He makes sure to halt his routine every few minutes to whisper promises of oral pleasure in my ear. There's even hand touching now - a lot of inappropriate hand touching - and though the other Alphas might not like that, Buzz no longer gives a shit; you see, there are certain milestones reached within relationships that can't be reckoned with, and some rules just have to be broken to ensure the satisfaction of the recipients.

My nose fills suddenly with a peculiar smell.

On the other side of the stage, standing behind the couch that no one ever sits on because it's cramped awkwardly in the corner of the inverted T (I've heard there's also a nasty waft that resonates from the toilets if you stay there for too long), an Alpha that I've never seen before, with a sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes, stares intently at Patrick as he performs. Issues One and Two, I can live with: He's an Alpha, and he's staring; aren't we all? Issue Three welcomes an itch into my spine that I can't quite scratch, because he's really quite attractive, and I'm not sure I'm ok with that.

Ordinarily, regular customers of Reine Loups carry a foul but definitive scent about them, but this Alpha's scent is unfamiliar to my nostrils, and in my books, unfamiliarity means danger, especially when said unfamiliarity is glaring at my pride and joy like he wants to dissect him limb from limb in order to discern what's inside.

As much as I wouldn't like to waste the rest of my night stirring up a frenzy with the newcomer, his overbearing presence has made it too easy for me to tear my eyes away from Patrick and scuffle around the edge of the stage to get to him. Once I'm certain he can sense me lurking, I clench my hands into fists and ready myself to challenge him. "Hey," I call out from behind him. He pivots on his heel and turns to me. "Quit eyeing up my Omega before I break your nose with my teeth."

He quirks an eyebrow inquisitively. "Your Omega, huh?" he enquiries.

I scowl. "You got a problem with that, bud?"

"No, not at all. I just couldn't help but notice..." He snatches a curious backward glance over his shoulder. "I've never seen a male Omega doing this kind of job before. He's actually really good," he says.

"Careful now," I warn. "I almost ripped an Alpha's face off the other week trying to protect him."

Newcomer throws his hands up in defense. "Calm your tits, bro, I'm not interested in your Omega." He folds his arms over his chest. "You don't see me sweating buckets like all these other Alphas, who, might I add, don't seem to be bothering you in the slightest."

"That's because they stand behind me, so I can't see their faces," I fire back, mirroring his sassy pose.

He inches a step away from me, incredibly slowly, as if he's trying (but inevitably failing) not to make it look obvious that he thinks I'm a fucking lunatic. "I'll make a note for next time," I hear him mutter, flashing his eyebrows up and down with irritation.

The little red devil perched on my shoulder brandishes a fiery poker, clambers down my arm, and stabs its searing tip mercilessly into the back of my hand. I grind my teeth. Way to make a friend, Pete. I take a deep breath and loosen my hands. "Sorry," I cringe. Newcomer returns to his original spot. "First time Bond. Still trying to get the hang of the whole possession thing."

"I get it," he says, cracking an amused smile. "Heartbroken Alpha." He raises his hand for me to shake.

I don't take it. "Of course you are. I'm Pete. And that angel up there is Allie." I nod toward my Omega, who saunters closer to us and flutters his eyelashes at Newcomer appreciatively. Another twang of envy strikes my stomach, but I have to remember, he gets paid to treat all the newbies like royalty. He quickly makes it up to me, though, pointing his ass studiously in my direction while muttering something along the lines of "only yours," before giving himself a cheeky spank and walking away. Newcomer's eyes widen, signifying mixed emotions of horror and amazement. I slap his shoulder boisterously to turn his attention back to me. "If you so much as breathe in his direction, I can ensure you won't be making any more babies in your lifetime," I threaten, a little too sternly. He knows I'm only playing with him. I'm telling the truth, though.

"I don't have any babies," he says, grinning. "Let's grab a drink."