Scent to the Feral Cowboys (The Eros Institute Omegaverse #2)

Prologue. Nelly Shaw

Former First Principal Dancer with Tacoma’s Imperial Ballet Company...

The lights burned above me. Dollars littered the stage. It didn’t matter where I was, it only mattered that I moved my body. Rising. Falling.

The pole is my partner now. I don’t need Geoff anymore. I can lift myself as high as I want—to the ceiling of this room, to the top of the city’s highest building, to the edge of the atmosphere and beyond. Higher. Higher. Watch me soar.

I was still a rising star. I was still a prima, and my audience was oh-so-very-hungry for me.

Wanted. Desired. Worshipped.

Pulsing, moody music wafted from the speakers above, reminding me that this was no Swan Lake I performed.

Yet, I still put every ounce of my talent into rolling my body, dipping to the floor, jutting out my ass as I slowly, effortlessly stood back up.

Arching my back seductively, ginger hair fell down my back freely instead of being slicked into a taut bun that would eventually give me a headache.

My scalp had always felt so tight and uncomfortable, even hours later after taking out the pins and the bands and washing out the gel and layers of hair spray.

Those days were long over though. No more blistered, bleeding feet. No more worrying about one more pound on the scale.

I seductively locked eyes one-by-one with the front row patrons.

Alphas, all of them, their pupils blown wide with lust, drugs, and something too close to ownership.

Most of Club Midnight’s regular patrons had that look, as if paying to enter the exclusive joint meant they’d also bought rights to our bodies.

That's what they all wanted in the end. Not just the dance, but the dancers, too. I’d learned to politely fend them off, and when someone got too handsy, we had to rely on the bouncers to enforce etiquette.

Many times, though, management turned a blind eye if a stack of bills was thick enough.

"Take it off," someone shouted from the back.

I smiled, feigning excitement as I hooked my thumbs into the thin straps of my sequined top. Teasing. Always teasing. Promising just a little bit more until all that was left were pasties and the minuscule thong. Those, and the sky-high platforms of course.

I spun once more, my body light as air despite the four-inch heels. A lifetime of ballet had given my body graceful strength. Club Midnight had taught me how to weaponize it.

The music shifted, bass deepening as I dropped to all fours.

I chose my target, crawling toward the edge of the stage where a particularly well-dressed Alpha sat.

His scent hit me—turmeric, dates, a trace of cardamom.

It was a strangely familiar scent, causing my brain to unexpectedly shift into memory.

Suddenly, I was thirteen and sitting at the kitchen table with my grandmother while we both sipped herbal tea.

She’d had a soft spot for golden milk chai, and she only ever used date syrup.

Dammit. Why was she on my mind so much these days? Even if Grandmother didn’t recognize me anymore, I needed to get up to Tacoma to see her.

I faltered on the stage, stopping my predatory approach towards the bronze-skinned Alpha.

"Focus, Nelly," I whispered to myself, plastering on a placating smile and forcing my body to move forward to the edge of the stage. When I was there, I reached out, snagging the Alpha’s tie to tug him closer. When our faces hovered a few inches apart, his gaze darkened. I couldn’t tell what color his eyes were.

The club was too dim, and the stage lights were multi-colored strobes meant to make everything feel almost surreal.

Even so, I had a feeling they were gorgeously dark brown.

“Private dance later?” He questioned, his scent shifting and pluming heady spice into the air.

I had no doubt that his version of a private dance included a happy ending.

I could see it in his eyes, his body language, the underlying thrum in his speech.

I was very good at recognizing the signs nowadays.

“Never know. My dance card isn’t full yet.

” I bit the side of my lip, raising my eyebrows a few times to suggest he had a chance.

Then I waited as he inevitably tucked a crisp bill into the waistband of the metallic thong.

I’d learned that sometimes the possibility of having me was just as good to these guys.

Though private dances were our bread and butter here; I shouldn’t turn down an easy hundred bucks.

We had to tip out the bouncers, DJ, and bartenders at the end of the night with our total earnings.

So, every dollar counted. Thankfully, the owner made his profit from membership fees, and he paid management a high enough salary. Otherwise, we’d make even less money.

“Keep a slot on that dance card.” The Alpha spoke loudly, ensuring other patrons knew he’d staked his claim.

“Thanks, sugar,” I said seductively, crawling backwards while gathering other scattered bills littering the stage now.

I winked at another suited patron before turning around and giving the onlookers a clear view of my rounded, supple ass.

When I was finally back at the pole, I turned again to face the crowd, rose to my knees, pressed my body against the cold metal, then slowly slid up to stand once more.

I stared down at the crowd now. Stared down at my worshipers.

I used to be a ballerina.

I used to have the world at my feet.

In a way, I still did.

I licked my lips, stuffing the money into my G-string.

Next, I gripped the pole and began slowly navigating around it, flipping my hair over one shoulder and preparing for another dip and rise before I mounted the pole in one fell swoop.

I gripped it with my legs; chrome tucked against my knees as my powerful thighs did their job expertly.

I held onto it with one hand, leaning backward until my upper body was parallel to the floor, ginger hair cascading in waterfall.

I only stayed in that pose for a heartbeat before fully flipping upside down.

Both of my hands automatically gripped the pole, and I parted my legs. An upside split that sent the onlookers into a frenzy. They chanted my stage name.

Lucky. Lucky. Lucky.

Lucky Star. To them, I pointed the way toward desire, passion, and yearning.

I closed my eyes and let the movement, the music, the warmth of the lights wash over me.

This is my home.

My body fluidly moves.

A stage is beneath me.

A crowd of watchful eyes surrounds.

Knitting my legs back together again, my toes pointed towards the ceiling, I bent my body over until my feet contacted the floor. I had to practice this move more times than I liked admitting. It was easy to hit your head, which I’d learned the hard way and at least a dozen times.

More money flew into the air, fluttering down lazily. I was going to make a killing tonight.

The song was reaching its crescendo, the DJ making it pulse ever louder before crashing it back down.

I had maybe thirty seconds left to make my final impression.

I bent over, touching my toes, then slowly tracing my fingers up my bare legs, suggestively over the front of the thong, up my stomach, and ending the sensual show just at the side of my concealed nipples.

As a final cash grab, I hit them with a one-two-punch.

First, I moved into a pirouette. Next, I expertly aligned with the pole and gave the crowd a clean développé before pressing the bottom of my heel against the chrome post. The moves were modified ballet, and the patrons always went wild. Tonight was no exception.

As the music faded to black, I lowered my leg. I blew kisses to my audience as I gathered the remaining cash scattered on the stage.

The hooting and hollering followed me as I disappeared behind the heavy, velvet curtains at the stage exit. I immediately began pulling the bills from the thong and sorting the money as I walked slowly towards the communal dressing room.

"Beautiful work tonight, Lucky.” A familiar voice floated to me.

I blinked up to find Crystal blocking the way. I smiled at her. “Thanks, though I think my moves are getting a little stale.”

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “I had a feeling you’d make yourself right at home here. The clients love you. Though, I think a few of the other girls are fighting the green-eyed monster.”

I ignored her comment on my coworkers. I’d figured out early on who I should avoid, who I should placate, and who I could befriend. The fact that some of the other dancers might be jealous, wasn’t fresh news.

“So, you saw my exhausted, hopeless ass in the alley and instantly knew I had a future here?” I lifted an eyebrow, waiting for Crystal to admit she’d taken in a stray—me—with zero guarantee it wouldn’t scratch the hell out of her.

“You were pretty pathetic.” Crystal laughed and gave a small shrug. “Not so pitiful now though. Look at that stack!” She glanced down, giving a quick head jerk to indicate the wad of bills in my hand. “You’re raking in the money lately.”

“It’ll be a lot smaller once I divvy it up.” I frowned. We didn’t have to pay management a percentage, but tipping out the other staff really put a dent in all our earnings.

“Don’t let them bully you into giving too much. You remember what I said, right?” It was her turn to arch a painted-on eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I think I’m pissing them off sticking to the flat twenty a night if they’ve not done anything to help me.” I bit my lower lip in worry.

“That’s twenty times three bouncers, two bartenders, and a DJ, babe.

That’s a buck twenty off the top. If each of us toss them a double, then they’re walking out with two hundred a night, easy.

And that’s on top of their hourly wages, which we don’t get.

Tish has been here five years and she’s tipping them out less than you.

Jade was stupid and paid them too much to start, and she’s been bullied into sticking with it.

” Crystal shrugged. “You just got to keep remembering it’s this cat and mouse game with them.

Or, like, playing chicken with cars. If they think they can intimidate you into giving them more for doing next to nothing, they’ll keep pushing the envelope until you break. Dog eat dog basically.”

“Not so different from my ballet days,” I smirked at her. “If there’s blood in the water, sharks will attack. I sometimes thought I’d get killed over making first principal dancer so fast.”

“Still don’t miss it?” Crystal had asked this question dozens of times over the last four months I’d been here.

“Not one bit,” I said... and it was almost the truth.

I folded the money into one hand and fidgeted with the scent blocking bracelet on my wrist. I’d added a little wooden cross, so if management ever wanted me to remove it, I could cite religious reasons for not doing so. Crystal’s gaze flicked down to it.

“You’re keeping that fresh, right?” She’d been the one to hook me up with the way to block my Omega nature. Which was a God send, because I’d had zero idea how to access the black market in Seattle. Without it, I couldn’t work here. Only Betas were allowed to be exotic dancers or sex workers.

“I soak it every night,” I said with a nod. “Can you smell me?”

She learned forward, nostrils twitching. After a second, she shook her head.

“Not the slightest Omega taint. So, that’s good. We’d both lose our jobs if management found out.” She gave me a wide smile. “Okay, I’m up after Diamond.”

“Doing the feather thing?” I teased.

“If I could get through the damn routine without sneezing.” She rolled her eyes. “Have fun with your private dance. That Alpha was super-hot.”

“And he super wants more than just a dance.” I sighed, wishing I could drop my morals and just fuck my way to millions.

“You know you could—"

I cut her off. “I could, but I won’t.”

“It’s really not so bad.” She waggled her eyebrows. “It feels a little strange that our club’s Lucky Star never lets anyone get lucky.”

“Oh, shut up.” I laughed, then turned away to continue my journey to the changing room.

Crystal sang at my back. “She’s so lucky! She’s a star!”

“I may cry and have a lonely heart, but random sex with paying customers isn’t what’s missing in my life!” I tossed over my shoulder in response.

The minute I pulled open the solid door and ducked into the dressing area, the sounds of Club. Midnight faded into the background. It was too quiet here. It let the hollow aching in my chest that appeared and disappeared whenever it wanted to rear its ugly head.

Because my life was missing something.

Love. Family. Friendship.

My mind drifted back to my grandmother. I could see her soft, wrinkled hands wrapped around a chipped teacup.

If I glanced just behind her, I’d spot several of her sit-around birds.

All shapes, sizes, colors. Her watery eyes always looked too large behind her massive, thick glasses.

The image of her flitted out of focus, and when my brain sharpened again, my grandpa took her place.

Frazzled, Einstein hair. A large, curved nose.

Ruddy cheeks that always seemed sunburnt even in winter.

God, I missed them.

Grandmother hadn’t remembered me last time I’d visited.

There wasn’t the slightest glimmer of recognition in her gaze.

Grandpa Rich had been so gentle and loving with her, right until his end.

Even when she’d gotten unconsolably angry, demanding to know where her husband was, he’d always soothed her.

Though, there would be tears in his eyes.

Grandmother was alone now. She didn’t have him anymore.

It felt like betrayal, but sometimes I wondered if Grandpa passing quickly wasn’t for the best. Even the most loyal lover can only take so much heartbreak.

And when I’d spoken with a memory care nurse at Serenity House last week, she’d said Grandmother rarely had clear moments now.

I needed to go back to Tacoma and see her. I’d not been in over a month.

That city, though, was hard to face. Once I left it, part of me never wanted to return.

It broke my heart thoroughly.

I was still gluing fractured pieces of myself back into place.