Chapter 18
ESPER
The Midnight Wolves Plaza is huge. And it’s two blocks from the nearest bus stop. My feet thank me for going with sneakers instead of heels. Despite me wanting to appear extra… irresistible.
Damn. When did I become that girl?
Who the hell told me dating was fun? Mom did. I just know it was her.
Well, she was wrong. This shit is not fun. My nerves nearly make me sick and my gut turns with indecision.
My purse is heavy with the gift I have in it.
It’s as light as a feather. But its metaphorical weight is… well, it makes me breathless. In the way that vomit rests in my throat threatening to come up all the way and embarrass me completely.
My sneakers scuff against the concrete with the ache I feel in my legs. More from emotional warfare than actual exertion. I suddenly feel overdressed.
What does one wear to an MC Bar?
Dark wash jeans and a brown leather jacket felt like a good decision when I saw the cooling temperature today was going to bring, but now the jacket feels too on the nose.
Maybe I should take it off?
No. Be confident, Esper.
Omegas don’t want weak partners who question every little thing they do.
But… That’s exactly what I do. Fuck.
It’s not too late to turn around. You know what, maybe… maybe that’s what I should do. I twist on my heel, turning around when I spot a gang of bikers pulling in the parking lot. My gaze follows them to the front of Midnight’s bar.
They all have different kinds of bikes, but none the dark red that Reed’s is. Maybe he parks his bike somewhere else? Maybe he’s not even here. I should’ve checked he was home! Shit. That would blow my plan up into a billion little pieces.
But what the hell, Reed’s not the only scent match I need to see. I have scent matches that actually want to see me here, and I should see them. Neven could be here. So could Soren, or Asher.
I need to see them, especially the alphas. I’ve been prickly since I last saw them. My omega went into full destruction mode after that failed date at Juni’s. She couldn’t stomach seeing anyone.
I need to apologize. Make it right. They didn’t deserve that.
Nodding my head, I take out my scent-blocking spray, spritzing myself as I walk across the parking lot and to Midnight Wolves’ bar. My stomach turns at the smell of it, but sucks to suck I guess. I’m not walking into a bar full of people smelling like a burnt cranberry pie.
The Bar’s sign is large above the center building, and there are many slightly smaller buildings around it, including my true love, Coal’s Diner, on the far left. To the far right looks to be a mini neighborhood.
Between the Diner and the neighborhood sit plenty of businesses. There is The Garage, where Soren said he works, a tattoo parlor with a dispensary on top. Some other businesses I can’t tell what they are.
Making my decision, I walk up to the door and swing the handle toward me, the air conditioning from inside blows my hair over my shoulder as the darkness of the club swallows me.
Darkness broken with red lighting. Everywhere.
If something is not red then it’s wood. Booths line the walls, and a dance floor right when you walk in leads to the prominent bar in the back.
Off to the side there are little round tables that are tall enough to stand at.
Overall, the Bar seems to have a spot for everyone.
Hiking my little purse on my shoulder, I gaze around the bar. Where do I even go? I’ve never been to a bar without Penny.
She always goes to the bar for a drink first. Nodding to myself, I beeline to the bar. The Bar that is open and serving at—what is it? Two in the afternoon. Gosh, that’s a bit early in the day.
Regardless, I slide onto one of the stools and look over the menu they have at the top above the drinks. How does someone even reach that?
“How can I help you, darlin’?” The bartender leans over the bar and smiles.
She looks to be around my age with curly pastel rainbow hair and a kind smile.
Not the kind of person you’d stereotypically see at an MC bar.
Her badge reads Jewels, and she’s wearing an apron with a light blue sundress underneath it.
Her smell is on full display despite being in a somewhat busy bar.
Her raspberry scent calms me, but there’s a note to it. My head shoots up and she smiles.
She’s an omega.
So me being an omega… has nothing to do with Reed’s rejection? I can’t tell if that makes me feel better or not. Omegas here have jobs, not the traditional omega lifestyle, so I’m even more confused why he was so opposed to being with me.
“Um, do you have Coke?” My voice wobbles, embarrassingly. My tears clog my throat and I pray she can’t tell. But by the way her eyebrows scrunch, I know she can.
Maybe my scent-blocking spray isn’t as strong as I thought?
“Want any alcohol in it?”
I’d love to get that with alcohol, please and thank you, but that probably wouldn’t be wise. It’ll only go one of two ways: it’ll either calm me down or turn me hysterical. I still have apologies to give on my visit here.
I shake my head no, and Jewels turns to get my boring non-alcoholic Coke. My face flames. Thankfully I think the lighting in here is too red for anyone to notice. I take the drink she slides to me and sip as I turn around in my bar stool.
I don’t spot any of my scent matches. I don’t smell them either, but that’s not surprising with what smells like hundreds of scents in the bar.
Looking up toward the ceiling to help hold my tears back, I spot air purifiers, but they don’t seem to be on.
“We only use them for the weekend,” Jewels says, nodding her head towards the devices. “What brings you to Midnight’s?"
“A drink?” Shyness overtakes me with this beautiful woman talking to me.
“A drink you didn’t get?” She laughs, her loose textured curls bouncing around her head.
“Hey, I’m drinking it, aren’t I?” I reply before taking a sip.
Jewels grins and holds up her hands in defeat. Then she asks, “Who are you here for, maybe I know them?” Her voice is so light yet strong. Laced with a joy I wish I could steal some of.
“Dear god, I hope it’s for me,” an unfamiliar voice says from behind me. I turn to look, but not fast enough to miss Jewels’ eyeroll.
The man is tall, with brown hair that’s faded on the sides. He has blue eyes and tanned skin and one giant tattoo of a snake on the side of his neck.
Yeah, no thanks.
My awkward laugh would be an adequate dismissal to some people, and my turning back towards the bar a less subtle one. Discreetly as I can, I sniff myself to see if folks can really smell me or if I’m just incredibly readable.
Being approached because you are pretty is much better than being approached because you are an omega, and knowing if it’s the latter reason is important. That’s usually the wrong kind of attention.
If he’s approached me because I’m an omega, then the scent-blocking spray in my purse needs to be replaced because it’s obviously not working.
“For her sake, I hope not,” Jewels scoffs as she hovers on the other side of the bar. I mentally thank her for sticking close.
“I’m here for”—The reality of saying Reed’s—or Red’s—name and being publicly rejected chokes me—“Neven.” He’ll likely end up as my lead alpha, and therefore feels like the safest name to drop.
“Neven?” the guy asks, his hand coming around me at this very empty and open bar.
I gulp and attempt to slide from under the stranger’s arm, but he moves his arm lower, blocking me.
Now I’m awkwardly pissed.
“Excuse me!” I yell as I try again to slide under his other arm. The last thing I want to do is touch him, but if I have to shove I will. A growl escapes my lips when he blocks me again. I turn to face the man trapping me against the bar and glare.
“Where are you going, Omega?” The nickname grates on my skin like rough sandpaper. Much different to my omega’s reaction when Neven calls me that.
“Away. From you.” Just as I’m about to shove the man away, he’s ripped backward by the collar of his shirt.
By my deliciously tattooed beta.
“Don’t you have a run to do, Cyclops?” Soren says, shoving Cyclops back and sliding into the space next to me. He still towers over me, even with me sitting on these tall bar stools. He leans both his elbows on the bar, facing a glaring Cyclops.
“Since when are betas into omegas? Better yet, since when are omegas int—”
“Since me,” I growl, my omega pissed at the assumption. I turn to face Soren, pressing my lips to his, biting his lower lip. He gives a throaty chuckle and lets me kiss his soft lips. Just to make my point further, I go and rub my cheek against his. Scent marking what’s mine.
Maybe that’s what I should do with Reed, Neven, Asher—just claim them all.
But that isn’t right. Consent is important.
I want them to want me. To choose me. As I chose them.
I pull away and gaze back at Cyclops who is still standing there.
I smile as Soren’s cinnamon scent flows over me. I pull away, leaning my head on his shoulder. My omega purrs as I rest my hand on his arm.
Cyclops sputters before whining, “Omegas belong with—”
“Check yourself, Prospect. You’re on probation. I’m a born-in member. She’s mine. Now move the fuck along.”
The man scowls, looking between the two of us before walking out the door and into the sunlight.
“I thought his name was Cyclops?” I scrunch my eyebrows as I look up at Soren. His brown eyes are much darker than yesterday. Almost like a protective cloud surrounds him.
“He’s a prospect as well, someone trying out to join the MC.”
“Oh.”
“I called Neven for you, hon,” Jewels says as she wipes the counter, winking at me as she slides down the bar. “Got it handled, Fox?”
Soren chuckles and nods as Jewels walks down to the other side of the bar.
“Fox?” I ask, gazing at my scent match.
“Roadname,” he grumbles, and I hold the side of his face with my hand. His skin is so soft under mine. My nails gently graze him, and I could purr at the feeling.
“Foxes are cool,” I say through a smile. His hard eyes soften my words. “Smart. Strong.”
“Shifty,” he rebuts.