Table of Contents
Epilogue
Killian
Marcus
About the Author
Also by Harper B. Cole
His Secret Billionaire Omega
M/M Alpha Omega MPREG
Harper B. Cole
Frost & Hazel
Contents
1. Killian
2. Marcus
3. Killian
4. Marcus
5. Killian
6. Marcus
7. Killian
8. Marcus
9. Killian
10. Marcus
11. Killian
12. Marcus
13. Killian
14. Marcus
15. Killian
16. Marcus
17. Killian
18. Marcus
19. Killian
20. Marcus
21. Killian
22. Marcus
23. Killian
24. Marcus
25. Killian
26. Marcus
27. Killian
28. Marcus
29. Killian
30. Marcus
31. Killian
32. Marcus
33. Killian
34. Marcus
35. Killian
36. Marcus
37. Killian
38. Marcus
39. Killian
40. Marcus
41. Killian
42. Marcus
43. Killian
44. Marcus
45. Killian
46. Marcus
47. Killian
48. Marcus
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Harper B. Cole
1
Killian
"Hey, Killer. Looks like your sweetheart is back tonight."
I flipped Joe the bird, as if I hadn't been keeping half an eye out for the loud, gregarious omega who appeared almost every Omega Night.
In a more serious tone, he leaned forward and said, "Maybe keep a closer eye on him than normal. Decker showed up half an hour ago, and he's in one of his moods."
I grunted, and Joe moved away, scanning the crowd for any problems. We didn't look like your typical bouncers, unless you knew what you were looking for. The Red Knights didn’t wear a uniform, and Club Royale preferred that we blend in. And if we could head problems off before they were an issue, so much the better. Joe, like myself and the rest of the team, was built big. Most of the guys had played football at some point in their lives, always on the defensive line. We all wore black. Joe liked to pretty himself up with a few chains, but I figured that was just asking for someone to grab them and cause some extra trouble. The only thing that showed our official status was a pair of red rubber wristbands.
Following Joe's suggestion, I started scanning the crowd. Decker wasn't hard to find. As one of the three owners, he had complete access to the VIP booths, and he was already there, arms and legs spread wide, groupies gathering.
I had nothing but respect for Jasper and Garret, the other two owners, but I saw little good in Decker. He must have been the money leg back when they started the business because he certainly didn't seem to contribute anything useful anymore. I did my best to do my job and avoid garnering his attention, but he liked his omegas small, pretty, and flirty. Which meant that my omega was right up his alley.
I shouldn't call him my omega, but other than Blondie, I didn't know what else to call him. In the years since he'd started coming to Club Royale’s Omega Night, I still hadn't managed to catch his name. Or, you know, talk to him. All the guys knew about my obsession with him, and it was a constant source of amusement to them. I knew they had a long-standing pool on whether one of them would notice him before I would on the nights he came in.
I still hadn't seen Blondie, which made me nervous. I slid through the crowd, closer to Decker. If I couldn't find Blondie, I could at least guard Decker, make sure he didn't get close to the omega.
Blondie liked to act the part of an alpha chaser. He dressed provocatively, danced freely and wildly, accepting drinks from anyone who offered, but there was something... innocent about him. There was something in his eyes that said there was more to him than what he allowed the world to see. And there was just the barest hesitation any time an alpha approached him, one he quickly covered up with a blinding smile. Things you would only notice if you looked closely.
Or were for some reason absolutely obsessive about him.
Decker got up to dance with one of his groupies, a tiny omega with dark hair that I'd kicked out a few times for shooting up in the bathrooms, and I breathed a sigh of relief. If his attention was already taken, he probably wouldn't notice Blondie. I continued to scan the crowd, looking for that shock of bleached hair that glowed under the black lights. Instead, I noticed Art, one of our more problematic alpha customers, getting a bit pushy with a smaller guy I didn't know. By the time I'd stepped in and got Art under control, Decker had disappeared, and his omega friend was still on the dance floor, lost in his own world. Probably high as a kite.
I caught sight of Joe across the room and cut around the dance floor as quickly as possible.
"Did you see which way Decker went?" I shouted over the music.
"Bathroom, I think."
"And the omega?" I didn't like to draw attention to him more than I had to, but his safety mattered more to me than my pride.
"Haven't seen him since he came in."
Instinct clawed at my stomach, telling me that I needed to find Blondie sooner rather than later. I slid behind a couple locked together so tightly, I couldn't swear that dancing was all they were doing. The bathroom light was brighter, but still dim, keeping the atmosphere of the club intact. At first, it seemed empty, and I turned to go, but a soft whimper from one of the open stalls yanked my attention back, and I marched over without a thought.
Decker had my omega pushed up against the wall, their mouths locked together.
"Decker," I snapped, my voice more forceful than I expected.
He broke away from the omega slowly, casting a baleful glare at me, but not releasing the omega. I couldn't tell whether he was okay or not, whether Decker's advances had been appreciated. His eyes were glazed and his hair mussed.
"You're interrupting," Decker said in a tone that I knew meant I would be paying for this later.
"Jasper asked for me to find you." It was a blatant lie, but as far as I could tell, Jasper was the least tolerant of Decker's playboy ways. There was a chance he'd cover for me if he picked up on what happened.
"He can wait." Decker turned back to the omega.
"He said it was urgent."
Decker sighed, resting his head against the omega's. I wanted to rip him away and scrub every memory of his touch from the omega's body, but I held my peace. "Everything's urgent with him." But he pushed away from Blondie, placing a finger under Blondie's chin and adding, "I'll find you later."
I didn't move, forcing him to brush past me as he left.
"You okay, Blondie?" I asked, realizing these were the first words I'd ever spoken to him.
"What?" The omega seemed a bit dazed.
"You okay? You're not... high or..."
Blondie laughed finally, shaking his hair in that way he must know drew attention to him. "I meant what did you call me?"
I was glad my dark skin hid my blush. "Blondie," I said gruffly. I moved out of his way as he stepped up to the mirror to check his appearance.
He checked
his eyeliner and finger-combed his hair. "It's Marcus," he said. "You got a name, big fella?"
I was too distracted by finally hearing his name that the silence stretched out awkwardly before I said, "Killian. Killian Daye."
Marcus's eyes met mine in the mirror, and I couldn't look away. "Well, Killian Daye, once you're off duty, maybe you come find me for a dance?"
I shook my head. "I work until close."
Marcus shrugged like it didn't matter. I wanted it to matter. "Too bad."
As he turned to leave the room, I reached out to touch his arm, and he froze. "Watch out for Decker," I said. "He's bad news. If I were you, I might just call it an early night."
Marcus met my eyes again, his smile bright and carefree, but his eyes tired. "I'll keep it in mind."
And then he was gone, the bathroom suddenly much colder in his absence. I took a few calming breaths before following. I kept looking for him the rest of the night, but he seemed to have taken my advice to heart and left. Decker didn't return to his booth, which was another relief, as I could see his silhouette in the offices above, but his groupies continued to enjoy the booth until they were all too wasted to move. At the end of the night, Joe and I poured them into taxis like we always did, and I breathed a sigh of relief that Marcus wasn't one of them.
2
Marcus
One last check in the three-way mirror affirmed what I already knew—I looked good. My nice, but not too nice, jeans hugged my ass just enough to give it a slight lift without looking slutty. My shirt accentuated my lean muscles and gave off the tiniest hint of my nipple piercing. My hair looked like it was the after photo in a hair salon, and I used just enough highlighter for my face to glow without looking made up. I was ready to hit Omega Night.
Omega Night. The night of the week when Club Royale was packed, liquor poured freely, and all the alphas came out to find their omegas. Or at least, that was how I had imagined it that very first time.
I’d been so wrong.
I had sauntered in, dressed to the nines, sure I’d find the one—the alpha who wanted me for me, not to form a corporate alliance or shore up the family legacy. Instead, I found drunk alphas wanting to get laid in the bathroom, blowjobs in the dark corners, and if you were extra special lucky, an alpha who enjoyed smacking you around a little.
Yet I kept going back, week after week, dragging along any other omegas I could convince to come. I once saw a “motivational” poster that said something about doing the same thing over and over again hoping for different results as being the definition of insanity. I called it hope.
One day I was going to find him—the one. We were going meet, mate, marry, have two point five kids, live in the suburbs, and he was going to love me for me. That reality would never occur if I had stayed home, my parents dictating my every date, and it sure as shit wasn’t going to happen sitting on my ass in my crappy apartment on furniture that was just a little too nice for the building. No, it required me putting myself out there. Sadly, that included, among other things, Omega Night.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. My cab was there. It was go time. Maybe tonight I would meet him. The one.
I trotted down the stairs before climbing into the cab, thankful that unlike many omegas, the cost of the cab wasn’t a concern. By day, I hid my finances behind bus passes and a crappy job that fit the omega image to a tee, but when it came to safety, I was careless in flaunting my financial freedom, opting for taxis anytime I traveled alone at night, paying via app. Some things just weren’t worth the risk.
Which was why I always picked Club Royale. They might look like every other club to the average guy looking to get laid: drink specials, loud music, and enough dark corners to get your rocks off if you were so inclined. But I could see what most would not. Club Royale had the Red Knights, and that made them the safest club in the city.
Growing up with my own security detail, I knew all of the tricks. Blending in, while staying attuned to your surroundings, wasn’t something most people could pull off and something many clubs didn’t want. They assumed big brawn at the door deterred all badness. They were wrong. Badness came, whether you liked it or not. The key was to see it before it took hold and remove it without anyone noticing. The Red Knights had that down.
As the cab pulled up, I slapped on my happy omega face, tipping the driver generously via my phone before climbing out. I didn’t live in the best area of town, which made getting a cab not as easy as it could be, but my reputation for overly exuberant tips made up for it. Yet another layer of safety. I had to take care of me. No one else would.
My parents had been right about one thing in their lives: money could buy pretty much anything. But it couldn’t buy the things I actually wanted in life, like love. That was why I walked away. Not that I could have done it without the fortune my godparents left. I wasn’t stupid with my money, though. I was careful, probably to a fault. My carefree, need to find an alpha persona was just that—a persona.
The cool breeze brushed my neck as I shut the cab door and my mind went back to the Red Knights—one in particular: Killer. That couldn’t be his real name, but I’d heard one of the other bouncers call him it before. I had no idea what his real name was, but it didn’t matter. He paid zero attention to me. He was probably used to all the omegas throwing themselves at him. Not that I did.
Killer was so far out of my league, a notion my parents would have scoffed at. They thought money and connections, along with a strong lineage, made a good alpha. I knew better. A good alpha might be tough and successful, but what made them a catch was something deeper, something I saw flash across Killer’s eyes more often than he probably wanted anyone in the club to see—kindness. Not the fake kindness I slapped on while serving coffee at Café Om, or even the type you saw when someone held open a door. It went deeper than that, to the core of the person, and I knew in my bones that Killer had that.
Now if he would only notice me.
“VIP?” Decker, one of the owners, asked only moments after I walked into the dark room already vibrating with loud music. He held out a paper bracelet which would allow me access for the evening, and I responded by giving him my wrist. The VIP booths had more security surveillance than the rest of the club. Maybe tonight I’d gather up my courage to talk to Killer.
I strutted over to Decker’s booth—he used the same one every week—my body swaying to the music. The DJ they had on Omega Night was one of the best in the city, not that they needed him for the draw. Actually, I was the draw. Not me, in particular, but omegas. The fabulous DJ was more to look respectable than anything else.
The booth wasn’t full yet. Decker tended to be an ass over who he did and didn’t let in. He wanted alphas and omegas he thought were the best of the best surrounding him. At least until he snorted a few lines. Then he only wanted easy, which was why I never stayed the entire night in there. I didn’t put it past him to get handsy and, eww, not Decker. The man oozed slime. But I didn’t mind the perks that came from hanging around him occasionally.
“Soda water, lime,” I placed my usual order at the bar. I rarely veered from it. I liked to keep my head, but if an alpha with potential offered me a beer or wine, I usually accepted the offer, making sure I collected the drink from the bartender myself. An omega couldn’t be too careful. “Thanks.” I took my drink, leaving a five on the counter.
“Glad you came tonight.” Decker had managed to sneak up on me, his eyes already bloodshot. Excellent. I put on my mask, careful to hide my disdain.
“Never miss Omega Night.” I smiled brighter than necessary, my voice light and airy, although absent of the flirty layers I usually threw in when talking to an alpha. I didn’t want Decker getting any ideas. I liked this place, and pissing off one of the owners was probably not the best idea. “Oh, hi!” I waved at the entrance, pretended to see someone I knew in the distance. “Sorry, gotta go. TTYL.”
I had lots of little tricks like that to get out of uncomfortable situations with
out making a scene or upsetting anyone. Probably too many, because I felt confident that Decker had stayed put, finding a new omega to latch onto. I was wrong. I snaked my way through the crowd and eventually into the bathroom, and I was caught completely off guard when Decker followed me in, closing the door loudly behind him.
“Where’s your friend?” He closed the distance between us. He was looking at me with a focus I’d never seen before. At least, not directed at me. I’d caught his eye a few times, sure. I knew I was his type. But I’d always managed to stay on the periphery before. His gaze was unnerving. I’d always thought Decker was just a user. Drinks, drugs, omegas. But there was something in his eyes that hinted at a darkness deeper than all that, and it threw me off guard. I could already tell my usual games weren’t going to work on him tonight.
“I thought he came in here, but looks like I was wrong. I best go find him.” I took a step to the side, but Decker stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. Fuck. His body and his arm were blocking me. My only escape was the stalls behind me.
“That’s okay. Gives us some alone time.” He stepped closer, and I backed away into the farthest stall. He seemed to think that was an invitation and followed me. My mind went uncharacteristically blank as I tried to figure out how to stall him, distract him, something. He crowded closely against me and I tried to say no, but it just came out as a whimper as his lips descended on mine.
His Secret Billionaire Omega: M/M Non-Shifter Alpha/Omega MPREG (Cafe Om Book 6) Page 1