Chapter 7
REED
The Bar is empty at ten in the morning. The actual bar sits at the back, the main area open for dancing with the sides filled with plenty of tables and chairs with booths against the walls, worn black seating that blends into the shadows in the corners.
Wooden floors stretch to dark walls and aesthetic lighting.
Dark enough to be brave, light enough to face the consequences of that bravery.
Though as the years have gone by, the Bar has become quite mundane. Maybe because I grew up in it. It doesn’t sparkle the way it once did.
My gut turns as I sit with Prez and Queen. Prez is old. Older than he should be running an MC.
Someone needs to take over, give the man a rest at long last.
That “someone” should be me. But I can feel it in my bones—I'm not ready. He can feel it too. It’s why he’s waiting. Holding onto the reins instead of retiring with Queen like he wants to.
Worst thing is, I have no clue what will make me ready. I don’t even know if the MC is ready.
Would they even follow an omega?
The guys like me well enough. But it's not about like. It's about trust, respect.
Omegas don’t demand those things.
Damn. I just had to be a fucking omega.
“Red.” Queen’s smooth voice takes me out of the self-pity party as she moves over bar stools to sit right next to me. I turn to face her, willing the despair to evaporate from my mood and my scent.
Queen is strict but lovely. A better mom than anyone could ask for.
She never took any shit, but she also loved with all her heart.
Queen is an omega too, but understands how different it is for me.
How it makes my life harder. I love her, both Dad and Queen, as parents, and I'm honestly way better off. Even if I’m not running the MC like I want to, I still will have a better life than the one I would have had if Ace and Queen never took me in.
“Your scent is telling.”
“I’ve been slacking on my scent blockers.”
My scent is thick in the air, no matter how much I try to calm down. The sense of impending doom looms over me. The lack of being ready catching up to like a freight train.
Queen swivels her chair so her full attention is on me. “Is there… a reason?” She hates that I take the blockers. Hates what it could be doing to my body. Honestly, I’m tired of taking them. I’m tired of trying to hide the obvious and unchangeable fact of my existence.
I’m an omega. I’m a male omega. Who’s meant to lead a group of rough-and-tumble bikers used to taking orders from an alpha.
Blockers helped us sometimes forget that fact. Helped me, helped them. But, God, I’m just so damn tired of not being enough.
“No, I just… would rather not.” I lean against my elbows on the bar, eyes trailing over the bottles lined up behind it. “They've been making me sick.”
A sly smile arcs her lips. “It could be a sign.”
“Don’t start,” I grumble, but her glee is enough to make me chuckle.
Queen and Ace are scent matches. They met while he was riding one night. She was out barhopping, and he scented her. They've been together ever since.
She hopes I’ll meet mine. But that would mean packing up, and I’m not sure that's such a good idea.
Packing up means giving up my position as Prez, permanently. Could I really give all that up for love? Is love truly that strong?
Queen wraps her arms around my head and pulls me toward her so she can kiss my forehead. “Your future is in your control, regardless if it feels like it or not.”
I nod, letting her lecture me on the universe and knowing what will be, will. This mindset is what pulled her out of her depression when she found out she couldn’t have babies.
So when I came along, it was a push-and-pull with her for a while.
She loved me but hated that she couldn't have one of her own. She grew to love me like her own, but it’s hard, especially as an omega, when the expectation—from yourself and from others—all your life can’t actually be fulfilled. I don’t hold it against her.
“What if I don’t meet them? My scent matches,” I whisper against her chest. Her welcoming honey scent calms me as her curly long hair brushes my cheek.
“What if you do?”
She's right. The chances may not be super high, but they aren't low either.
What will I do then?
“Don’t baby him, Queen.” Prez’s gruff voice laughs as Queen must have sent him a glare.
“Don't tell me what to do with my baby.” She kisses my head one last time and lets me go. Queen slides out of her seat, taking Ace’s hand as they take their daily walk around the Plaza that makes up Midnight Wolves’ base.
Midnight Wolves Plaza makes up all the businesses that we run, including the Coal’s Diner, Wolves Garage, and the Dispensary.
My phone lights up and I snatch it, excitement overriding the melancholy for a minute.
A text from Esper.
We’ve moved from the app, somehow texting even more often. I’m trying to figure out how to ask her out properly, but every time I think about meeting her in person, I think of Asher. How I’m fucking him still, and I feel like I should probably tell Esper.
Nope, that’s not true. I definitely should.
But I don’t want to pop the bubble we’re in.
She’s so damn easy to talk to. She lives in my head, and instead of it driving me insane like Asher does, I’ve made her a comfy corner with pillows and blankets and fresh French fries from Coal’s—her favorite—with homemade ranch and a charger for her phone so it never dies.
Asher lives in the next corner. His bright hazel eyes piercing into mine.
His presence fills my chest with an unexplainable tightness.
Like a balloon I don’t know to let bloom or pop.
A headiness that makes me crazy. Each time we’re together, I can’t decide whether to kiss the fuck out of him or…
well, no, I mostly actually want to kiss the fuck out of him. And I shouldn’t.
He's an alpha, for starters. But mostly, he’s an addiction. One I look for in every room, one I sense like a phantom limb.
I… want them both, as selfish as that sounds.
But I’m an omega, right? Who says I have to pick?
I do need consent though, from both parties. That bit never changes.
“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Jewels pops up behind the bar, her rainbow-colored curls bouncing with her.
She is an omega, mated to two members, One Eye and DJ.
She works in the Bar, sometimes as a bartender, sometimes as a waitress.
She loves to watch the rowdiness, which her mates are often part of.
She’s mixed-race; her parents are Black and white like Prez and Queen.
She joined the MC when she found her two mates about two years ago.
She was looking for a job with fair wages and a party, and she stumbled upon us.
My phone lands face down on the bartop. “No one.”
She shakes her head as she slides a glass of water to me. She begins her prep of the bar, wiping down the bar and filling up napkin dispensers.
“You’re not gonna share with your best friend?”
“You know, your mates would have a fit if they heard you calling anyone else your best friend,” I replied, trying to divert her attention.
Fat chance of that.
“Who’s the lucky lady?” She tosses the rag over her shoulder and leans her palms on the counter. “Man? Plural?”
If I don’t give her something, she’ll just keep prying until I slip up.
“Just a heat partner," I murmur, hoping that Queen doesn't hear me. She’d get way too excited, then disappointed when she realizes this could all be nothing. I turn around to check, and they are already out the door.
“Not going back to Omega Center and Co.?”
“No. I’m doing things my own way.”
“Like a Prez would.” She winks and I shake my head. Not quite right, but she’s built with so much positivity there is no point in disputing her. “What’s her name? Maybe I know her.”
“Esper Malent. She goes to White Pine Crest.”
“Hmm…seems like that college is good for something.”
“I didn’t meet her there, smartass,” I retort, then wince when I realize I just gave up a little more dirt on myself.
Jewels’ jaw drops. “Reed Nightwell is on a dating app? Ladies and gentlemen and everyone in between, who would have guessed.”
“Shut up, Pixiedust,” I say, sliding off the stool and downing the water she gave me.
“What’s she like?”
“We’ve just met—” I start but am sidetracked by another text that gets my feet running. “I gotta go, take care!”
Esper
Hey!
my heat is starting, pls, help
if you want
no pressure
Her heat started? So soon? I haven’t even gotten to meet her properly, and she still wants me?
I really shouldn’t be giddy at a time like this.
I wave to Jewels as I swing open the bar door, the morning sun beating down on me as I pick up my helmet and strap it on.
If her heat’s started, she’s in pain right now, and that gets my blood rushing under my skin, egging me to move faster. I can’t stand the idea of leaving her waiting. Not Esper.
I look down to see another text, one with an address, and I notice another person is in this chat too. With practiced ease, I mount and crank my bike, prop my phone on the stand, and click on the icon at the top of the message chat.
Who else is getting these messages? Who else may be rushing to Esper’s side at this exact moment? I click to the chat members, and to my surprise, it’s a contact already saved in my phone.
Hacker? I mean, Neven?
How?
Why the hell does Esper have Neven's number? Does she know we know each other? How did they meet? When?
Just…how?
I shake my head, pulling up the map to her address. None of that matters. I need to get to Esper. I haven’t met her in person yet. I don't know what the hell I was waiting on, but… I guess the quickest way to find out if we’re compatible is trial by fire?
Or by heat, at least.
If she hates me, she can just kick me out. I’d leave, despite every cell in my body rejecting that idea. I’m a gentleman, fuck you very much. But, by God, I hope she’ll want me to stay.