Chapter 15
“Overseeing the club in our brother’s absence?” Sloane appeared at Shiloh’s left side, gaze roaming over the crowd below. “Or your alpha’s?”
“Tull is right there.” Shiloh motioned to the man standing in the corner of the main floor, discussing something with three gruff looking bouncers.
He and his twin were on the second level, peering over the wraparound banister to the chaos below.
Friday nights always pulled in a large crowd, and the drinks were flowing, an annoyingly raucous beat blasting from speaker orbs that floated aimlessly next to ones that flashed neon lights. “That’s his job.”
Shiloh’s hands gripped the metal railing, his bruised and busted knuckles catching his sister’s attention, though she didn’t bother to ask about it. Which was good, because he was in a volatile state of being at the moment, torn between his need to win and his debilitating omega impulses.
It’d been a week since he’d last spoken to Sarang, and it was making him twitchy. He’d never gone this long separated from the alpha before, and was finding that he wasn’t a fan of the way it made him feel.
Turned out, even without the bite, his biology could recognize its mate. He felt off. Anxious and unsteady. Like everything could fall apart at any given second.
Confidence was not something he typically lacked, and this newfound uncertainty was, frankly, pissing him off.
He’d spent the past few nights taking out his frustrations on others, using stepping in for the underboss to keep things in order as a means to explain away his sudden interest in Eumia affairs.
Back on Synastry, he’d helped clean up their ranks from the shadows, usually with Diogenes’ aid, but since he’d shed the sheep clothing, he’d thrown caution to the wind and gone all out, exposing his true nature in the process.
Even now, he could feel eyes on him, different from the gazes he usually received.
These were tentative, jittery, with an underlying hum of fear.
There were rumors going around from those that didn’t know any better that the trauma had finally gotten to him and he’d snapped.
He didn’t bother correcting them. Let them believe what they wanted so long as they all understood not to cross him.
“I heard you killed several underlings this morning,” Sloane drawled, tone bored.
“Soldiers who can’t do their jobs have no business in the family,” he stated.
“And what, pray tell, was their supposed offence?”
“They were selling elixir.” He’d destroyed the main cell when he’d taken care of Lady Luck, but it’d come to their attention that at least a hundred units of the drug had been handed off to lower-level members of the Eumia.
“They were in league with another group. You know how Kian feels about those sorts of dealings.”
They hadn’t traveled all the way to Glyph to bring trouble, and the last thing their Dominus wanted was to be blamed for a rise in criminal activity of any kind.
“Ah, so you did it for big brother.” She was humoring him.
Shiloh didn’t mind.
“I’ve already spoken to the Hierarchy,” he said. “We’ve rooted out the rats. The situation should be handled.”
“Which means you’ll have to find some other way to vent your frustrations.”
He pulled his eyes off the crowd and set it on her.
“What?” She lifted a single shoulder. “Am I wrong?”
“Why are you dressed like that?” He frowned, finally noting the glittery black halter top and leather shorts she was wearing. “Are you working the floor right now?”
They’d both agreed with Kian to stop being hosts at the club as soon as their semester started.
As university students, there was enough on their plate, and Kian hadn’t wanted them involved with customers, even though the two of them had always had a hands-off policy.
No one was allowed to request private sessions, there always had to be at least two other people, and they wouldn’t enter any of the private rooms.
Customers probably thought it was Kian’s way of protecting his siblings.
In reality, he was just protecting his business.
Neither Sloane nor Shiloh would ever suffer an insult, and if anyone did ever try to push their boundaries, they would strike first and ask questions later.
Since the whole purpose of a host club was to provide entertainment, if word got out that two of the staff members had maimed a paying customer…
“You may have sequestered him away somewhere, but the underboss’ last order is still in effect.
Not being allowed to go to school means I have nothing to do.
Unlike you, I have no interest in establishing myself as a princess of the mafia.
” Sloane tapped her cobalt nails against the metal railing.
“I’ve switched over to online classes. But even that only fills so much of my time. ”
When they’d been children, running away had almost always been her idea.
She’d sneak into his rooms in the middle of the night, tell him to pack a bag, and the two of them would flee.
There’d only ever been one occasion where they were successful, managing to stay hidden for two whole years, before they’d been ruthlessly dragged back.
Perhaps that was why it’d been so easy for Shiloh to pretend to be normal and kind.
He’d had practice. Admittedly, he hadn’t been very good at it back then.
Sloane had been the one to perfect the act, allowing them to survive on their own, making friends with some of the elderly neighbors and convincing them to take pity on them.
They’d looked after the twins, thinking they were being nice to orphans. It’d been…pleasant.
And then it’d ended.
Their mother had given them a choice. At the time, Kian had yet to be discovered, and she’d needed an heir.
But only one. They’d had the option to choose amongst themselves and allow the other to go free, but years of punishments and conditioning had turned them jaded and leery.
“Free” was a relative term in their world.
They hadn’t been able to trust she wouldn’t kill the twin who refused.
In the end, neither of them wanted to risk the other’s life, so they’d stuck it out together.
Shiloh wasn’t unaware that the only reason Sloane was still here was because of him. Because he’d stumbled on an alpha, while bleeding and near death, and had fallen for him.
If there’d been no Sarang, the two of them would have walked away the moment their mother died and Kian had taken over. Instead, Shiloh had chosen to put them on this path, all so he could claim an alpha’s knot.
He was wholly selfish. Before, that’d translated to spoiled in Sarang’s mind, thanks to the way Shiloh always managed to reframe things. But now…Now he knew the truth.
And Dio had been right.
Sarang didn’t want him.
Maybe, at some point in the years they’d spent together, there’d been moments he had. Moments where he’d cherished the mask, but it was too late to regret and redon the disguise.
His alpha could either get over it and accept him, or remain trapped, locked up like an unruly pet. Shiloh would prefer the first, but he was unwilling to let Sarang go. Similar to how Sloane wasn’t willing to leave Shiloh even though she had no interest in the Eumia.
“You aren’t the only one who has to blow off a little steam, brother.” Sloane crossed her arms, seeking out a target from below. “With you in charge at the moment, it’s not like there’s anyone here who can stop me from hosting.”
“It’ll get back to Kian,” he warned, but she merely snorted.
“And he’ll do what? Yell at me? Boo Hoo.”
Shiloh chuckled. “Already planning on asking Sky to tell him to go easy on you?”
“Having an empathetic brother-in-law certainly has its perks.”
Sloane and Sky had gotten on rather quickly. The friendship between them was real, and the fondness in her voice wasn’t fake like it might have been if it’d come from Shiloh.
Not that he had a problem with Sky. He didn’t. Arguably, he liked him as well.
But mostly because he kept Kian busy and off their backs.
“So,” she asked breezily, “when will you be giving me another?”
Any lingering decent mood vanished and Shiloh scowled. “When he stops being so stubborn.”
The reports from Bishop were fairly plain and predictable.
Sarang demanded an audience whenever the beta brought him meals or checked on him, but was clearly still set on resisting.
They’d introduced the rut inducers, and Shiloh had watched the live feed from his bedroom here at Caelum via the hidden cameras he’d set up.
Sarang had fought against the effects of the drug for as long as possible, stubborn till the last. Eventually, he’d succumbed, had fucked the t-shirt Shiloh had scented in preparation for this until the garment was reduced to a mere rag.
But he hadn’t once called out for him. Hadn’t begged for him to show up, or spoken nonsense like he had at Den Night.
There’d been no pretty or possessive words, even when he’d knotted his fist, a thing that had to be unsatisfactory and painful.
Alphas needed to knot the same way omegas craved to be filled during their mating periods.
They’d feel driven to desperation, needing to complete a mating to relieve the discomfort.
The body would misinterpret that need as a vital function, making the person feel like they were on the brink of death if they didn’t get it.
It was one of the reasons inhibitors were so important to their kind.
Before the creation of such things, alphas and omegas were forced into seclusion whenever their mating period was nearing, an act necessary for their safety and the safety of others.
On Glyph, if there was a case of sexual assault during a mating period, the fault rested on the party that had gone out knowing their rut or heat was coming.
Forcing a person’s mating period was highly illegal, even on Synastry.
But Shiloh had never been bound by things as unthreatening as laws.