Chapter 1
Chapter One
Cooper
Present Day
It was way too fucking cold outside to justify the sweat streaming out of my pores.
In a state of paranoia, I’d asked the taxi to drop me off two streets away, and I really hoped that by the time I’d walked there, I’d be less of a nervous wreck. It wasn’t looking good, though.
This is a stupid idea. Such a stupid fucking idea.
Eventually, I made it to what turned out to be a pretty nondescript building—a small neon-green sign saying “Foxholes” above a black door was the only indication of the entrance.
I was a little embarrassed about not just getting dropped off here.
I was a twenty-three-year-old, grown-ass alpha, and I needed to get a grip.
Wiping my clammy hands on my jeans, which were far too tight to be comfortable, I took a deep breath and then opened the door.
I can do this.
The building was clearly well soundproofed because the wall of heavy bass that hit me as I stepped inside startled me.
The bouncer, a large alpha wearing a leather harness, chaps, and not much else, asked me for my ID before pointing me in the direction of the front desk.
“Hey, honey. New here?” the kind omega woman behind the counter asked. She had electric-blue hair and a warm smile that put me a little more at ease.
“That obvious, huh?”
She laughed, but not in a mean way.
“I’ve worked here for five years. I have a good eye. I’m Jess, by the way, it’s nice to meet you.” She winked at me before passing over a disclaimer form.
Once I’d signed to say I wouldn’t do anything dangerous or sue them, she took my payment and showed me a laminated sheet of paper that I’d already looked at online. I gulped.
I was really doing this.
I pretended to read through all the options, even though I’d already memorised the colour of the wristbands I’d be asking for.
“Um. Blue, yellow, and green, please,” I mumbled.
Glancing at her, I expected some kind of judgement for my colour combination, which was stupid, really. Why would someone who worked in a kink club of all places be judging me?
“Just to confirm, because you’d be surprised how many people accidentally ask for the wrong colours, but it’s blue for alpha for alpha, yellow for submissive, and green for open to play?”
I nodded in response because my tongue felt too big for my mouth all of a sudden.
“Great. We follow the traffic light system here; are you familiar with it?”
I hummed my agreement, and she continued.
“Fab. There’s security by the door in each of the main areas, and we have a zero-tolerance policy on harassment.
There are bars, but we have a two-drink limit to keep play safe.
Other than that, enjoy yourself and come and find me if you have any questions.
” She beamed at me with sparkling white teeth.
“Thank you,” I replied before looking around nervously. The main areas were beyond a set of double doors, and I was struggling to bring myself to go through them.
How was I supposed to seduce a Dom if I couldn’t even find the courage to go inside? My chest tightened, anxiety growing like a tree planting its roots in my nervous system, and I rubbed the heel of my palm into my sternum as if I could massage the feeling away.
“Nervous?” Jess asked.
“Um. Yes, sorry. I… I… think maybe I wasn’t ready after all.” I ran my hand through my hair anxiously.
“How about I go in with you and introduce you to a few of our regulars who I know will be welcoming?”
The idea made me feel like I was a little kid who needed hand-holding, but arguably, I literally was feeling like a little kid who needed hand-holding, so I relinquished my pride.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother. I’ve just… never been anywhere like this before.”
“It’s no problem, hun. Follow me.”
She led me through the doors and down a dark corridor with strip lighting fitted into the skirting to illuminate the way.
“This is one of our quieter rooms for people who want to actually have a conversation.”
The room was, again, dark but with warm lighting, and it had an almost speakeasy vibe to it. Jess led me to the bar at the back of the room.
The man serving drinks behind the counter was wearing a white shirt with a leather harness over the top, and he was wiping down the shiny mahogany bar top with a white cloth like we were on the set of a kinky Great Gatsby.
“Hey, Markus,” Jess said to a giant alpha nursing what looked like whiskey in the corner of the room.
His gaze snapped from her to me, and my back straightened in response to his assessing eyes.
He was attractive, tall with dark hair and pale skin, but he reminded me of a vampire in an unsettling way rather than a hot way.
More Angel-without-a-soul energy, but then I worried I was being judgmental.
“Who have you brought me?” Markus smirked as we approached. He carried an air of arrogance around him that I’d seen before in other alphas, and I hadn’t liked it.
“This is Cooper, his first visit here. Cooper, this is Markus, who’s practically part of the furniture at this point.”
“Oi, you make me sound old.”
“Well, if the shoe fits.” She grinned at him.
“Hmmm… is your Mistress around here somewhere? I think I should let her know her sub is looking for a spanking tonight.”
I blushed at how openly they talked about kink, like it was a totally normal conversation. That was something I supposed I would need to get used to.
“Oh, she knows,” Jess replied with a wink. “I’d better get back to the front desk, but can you show Cooper the ropes? Not literally, don’t get any ideas.”
I tried not to visibly flinch at the mental image of Markus tying me up with rope. The rope part was less of an issue to me than the Markus part.
“Gladly.” Markus’ eyes turned a bit predatory then, and I didn’t like it one bit.
Jess had left us alone, and I knew I was supposed to say something, anything, but my brain had gone offline.
“Can I get you a drink, Cooper?”
“Oh. Yes, please. Just a beer, please?”
“So polite. Not a brat, I take it?”
I blushed even more and shook my head. “I don’t think so, no.”
Having spent a lot of time online and having my computer read out endless articles and forum posts to me before coming here, I’d established a few things about myself, and it seemed safe to say I wasn’t a brat.
Markus ordered me a beer as I took a seat on the stool next to him, and then he lifted my arm while we waited, inspecting the coloured wristbands. His warm hands gripped me tighter than seemed necessary. “Unusual combination. The blue and yellow, I mean.”
I suspected as much, but hearing someone say it out loud made me die a bit inside. Glancing down at my wrist, I cringed, feeling as though I had a neon light above my head that proclaimed me as abnormal in a room where nobody was into anything totally “normal.”
Embarrassed, I tried to pull my hand back, but Markus tightened his grip to the point of discomfort. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I assume you still like it rough, though?”
At that, my stomach plummeted, and I shrank into myself. So, this place wasn’t going to be different after all. The alphas here were exactly the same as the ones I’d met on the apps. They expected me to be rough and aggressive. They expected me to be like them.
Why can’t I be like them?
“Markus!” a deep voice snapped his name angrily from nearby, and he dropped my wrist. I held it to my chest protectively, trying to hide the coloured wristbands until I could find a way to get out of there.
Tears pricked at my eyes, but I knew if I let them fall, Markus would think even less of me.
“Patrick.” Markus dipped his chin at the man approaching from behind me, but the look Markus gave him wasn’t friendly. “What can I help you with?”
“Arron is looking for another alpha for a group scene in Room 2, thought you’d be interested.” Patrick’s voice was cold, and it was clear there was subtext there I was missing, but I was grateful for the interruption all the same.
Markus panned his gaze from Patrick to me and then to my arm, which was still clutched to my chest, before clearly deciding that Arron was a better option for his evening.
“Sorry, Cooper. Duty calls. Patrick is far less fun than I am, but I hear he gives great cuddles. Have a good one,” Markus said derisively. He didn’t wait for a reply before sauntering off and leaving the room.
Completely mortified, I dared not risk further humiliation by looking at my rescuer because I knew he’d feel the same as Markus when he saw my colours.
A large hand landed on my shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked. His voice was both firm and soft, like chocolate that had melted under the summer sun.
I took a deep breath and braved looking up at him.
“Oh god, no!” I blurted out, then slapped a hand over my mouth, realising immediately how rude that was.
But I was unable to shake the terror that, even though I’d gone into the city, I’d still managed to run into someone I knew.
Shaking, I let my hand drop. “S-s-sorry, Mr Morgan. I w-wasn’t expecting to see anyone I knew. ”
Fuck, I was pretty sure I was beginning to hyperventilate. My breaths were coming too fast, yet I couldn’t seem to breathe at all, and sweat was pouring down my back.
What were the chances that I’d run into someone from Foxwood Hollow, let alone someone I’d been making moon eyes at ever since he’d taken over The Cluck Cafe?
“Take a deep breath, Cooper.” The grip on my shoulder tightened, and he looked into my eyes in a way that gave me no choice but to obey. I did as he instructed and exhaled slowly, repeating the process three times as he directed me to.
“I’m not going to tell anyone that I saw you here, Cooper. Outside these walls, you’ll just be the guy who orders chicken and waffles in my cafe every weekend, okay?”
I gulped and scrunched my eyes shut. “With all due respect, I don’t think I can ever show my face in your cafe ever again, Mr Morgan.”
“It’s Patrick.”
“Sorry… Patrick.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“Causing all of this.” I gestured to the air between us and the door through which Markus had exited.
“Markus shouldn’t have said that to you, okay? The whole point of this place is that people can like what they like without being judged for it.”
I couldn’t help but glance at the wristbands he was wearing, and I wasn’t sure why I was so disappointed that he didn’t have a blue one—instead, he had red for dominant and green for open to play. Open to play with omegas, that was.
“I’m just gonna go. This was a mistake. I thought maybe… but I was wrong. I… just forget you saw me here. Please?”
Patrick frowned thoughtfully. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“I mean, no. You’re going to stay for a bit. Grab your drink and come sit down.”
Despite my full intention to run far, far away from here, I found that my body had other ideas, and I picked up my drink before doing exactly what he’d said and following him into a small booth in the corner.
“You don’t need to babysit me,” I said glumly. “You aren’t going to find an omega if you waste your evening with me.”
“You’re wearing a yellow band.” Patrick arched a thick, bushy eyebrow at me.
“Yes?” I peered at him over the rim of my glass as I took a nervous sip.
“So, you’re a sub.”
I squirmed in my seat. “Um, yes?”
“So where do you get off telling me, a Dom, how to spend my evening?”
I gulped and felt even the tips of my ears heat up.
“Sorry… Sir?”
“Just Patrick is fine.”
“Oh yeah. Obviously, you wouldn’t want… me to… never mind. I shouldn’t have—”
“Stop,” he cut me off. “I didn’t tell you to call me Patrick because you’re an alpha, okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered. “Why, then?”
Patrick scrubbed a hand down his face before answering. “I’m not that type of Dom.”
“A Master?” I asked, being nosier than I knew was polite.
He let out a deep rumbling laugh at that. “Definitely not. But… I’m scene only. Exactly how green to kink are you?”
“This is my first time somewhere like this. But I’ve read a bunch online.”
“Have you heard of Daddy Doms?”
Of course you’re a Daddy.
It really was just my luck that the guy I’d crushed on from afar for months was exactly the type of Dom I was looking for, only he wanted an omega, not some sort of defective alpha. I nodded, but I couldn’t fight the disappointment that was surely marring my expression.
“Why does that bother you?” he asked curiously.
I shrugged. “It doesn’t. Sorry.”
“It does. Explain.”
Rudely, I ignored the question and focused my eyes to the side, away from him, but then he didn’t play fair and pulled his Dom voice on me. “Look at me, Cooper.”
Like a puppet, my back straightened, and I stared right at him before glancing at his wristbands again. He caught the look and waited, but I had no plans to embarrass myself with further confessions.
“Give me your left arm,” he said.
I wanted to say no, but what was the point? He’d already seen the colours, there was no use hiding them from him, so I lifted my arm above the table. He plucked at the blue band. “Is this the problem?”
I must have been as red as a tomato with how mortified I was.
“This”—he plucked next the yellow band that marked me as a sub—“is what I like. This”—he tugged the blue band again—“doesn’t really matter to me.”
Is he really saying what I think he’s saying?