Heaven's Ballroom

by Aiden Bates

  Blake bent down to grab his boxers, raising a wary eyebrow at me as he did so like he could read my mind. “I’m not sleeping in here, Anders. Too dangerous. The last thing I want to do is ruin…whatever this is with…whatever I’ve got.”

  “Right. But hear me out.” I crawled across the bed toward him, reaching out and catching his wrist before he could slip his boxers back on again. “Last time, you freaked because I woke you up, right?”

  Blake hesitated, mulling it over, then shrugged. “Something like that, yeah.”

  “And this time, you woke up on your own, then came here and found me.”

  “Right.”

  “And it helped,” I said with certainty. “You got your bearings, you came in here, we fucked… We fucked really good, in fact.”

  “Not a bad way to burn off all that aggressive energy,” Blake admitted with a sad smile. “But there’s no way of guaranteeing that it will pan out quite so well next time—and there will be a next time, Anders. PTSD doesn’t just go away because there’s a hot Omega sleeping in bed next to me.”

  “So we lay some ground rules,” I suggested, turning his wrist over in my hand so I could trace the lines of his palm with my thumb. “I won’t wake you up. I’ll let you do that on your own. And if you do wake up and pull that whole sexy, ferocious license-to-kill thing…”

  “Which I might,” Blake said, digging his heels in even as his fingers curled around mine.

  I smirked. “I’m not some delicate, weak Omega you have to handle like a Ming vase, Blake. I’m just as strong as you.”

  “Sans the combat training,” he countered.

  “And I’m just as stubborn as you,” I continued, brushing his warnings aside.

  Blake laughed humorlessly. “Can’t argue with you there.”

  “So stay with me,” I said, careful not to make it sound like I was begging for it—although, if it came to that, I was prepared to. “It’s been too long since either of us have had a body in bed next to us. Since either of us have been able to sleep with someone else and feel…safe.”

  “You’re not safe with me,” Blake insisted, but with a yank on his wrist, I pulled him back into bed with me, both of us on our knees, our faces so close we were practically kissing all over again. “Anders…”

  “Shut up,” I said, my voice clear and firm. “I feel safe with you. Choking kink or no.”

  A slow, careful smile spread across Blake’s handsome, perfect lips. “I don’t want to hurt you, Anders.”

  “You didn’t. And not for lack of trying,” I shot back at him.

  “If I wake up and attack you again though…” I could see it in Blake’s eyes, his frustration. The push and pull of his desires and fears, mingling together and duking it out even though I’d already made the decision for the both of us.

  “Then I’ll fight back. I may not have combat training, but I’m good for it.” I twisted his wrist again, feeling him strain against my hold instinctively—only to relax as he felt the force of my hand wrapped around him. “I want you here with me, Blake. Not out on my shitty couch…but here in this bed.”

  “Because I make you feel safe?” he asked, a slight tremble in his voice that told me he was just on the verge of giving in.

  I leaned forward, kissing him slow and deep. “Because this is the safest I’ve ever felt. In my entire life.”

  I felt the wind fall from Blake’s sails all at once, his shoulders lowering and a sigh releasing from his chest. “We can try it, Anders. But…Christ, do I sound like a pansy-ass if I tell you I’m scared as hell?”

  I grinned as we collapsed back into bed together, our bodies moving against each other’s in perfect, exhausted harmony. “I’ve been scared for a long time, Blake. But tonight…I’m feeling especially brave right now. Suppose it’s only fair that you should get to be the one that feels vulnerable for the night.”

  “Fuck it,” Blake agreed, his voice soft and breathy. “You’ve worn me down.”

  “Benefits of picking an argument with you when you’re too exhausted to win.”

  We laughed together, snuggling down deep into the pillows as I pulled the sheet up over us. It billowed like a white flag for a moment, then settled down around our bodies as we closed our eyes—Blake’s in surrender, mine still glimmering with victory until we drifted off to sleep.

  11

  Blake

  There were no more bad dreams that night, and only the faint ghosts of nightmares after. It made me nervous at first, falling asleep with Anders at my side like that the first few nights, but after a week I found myself actually looking forward to laying down next to him. After two, I was staying up a little later than I normally would, just so I wouldn’t have to stare at the ceiling in bed waiting for him to come to me.

  It was the best I’d slept in years.

  Maybe even in my entire life.

  But while sleeping with Anders—and the things we’d do before we finally turned off the lights and curled up in each other’s arms—was making me happier than I’d ever been, not everything was so easy or comfortable in our lives.

  Despite checking in with Rand a couple of times a week over beers at Mickey’s, we’d still failed to drum up any leads that might help put a name to Anders’ stalker’s sneering face. Thankfully, the asshole had been leaving Anders’ apartment alone ever since the night that I chased him off, but Rand mentioned a string of break-ins in the buildings surrounding Anders’ building that didn’t sit quite right with me—and they shouldn’t have. Upper-level construction sites, rooftops and even the apartment of an elderly woman had been targeted, all of which seemed to have one thing in common: they all had windows that, from the right angle, would have a clear view into Anders’ place.

  The stalker might not have been directly harassing Anders, but he was always watching. Waiting. Probably choosing the right time to make his next move—and I wasn’t looking forward to finding out what that move might be.

  And unfortunately…that wasn’t the only trouble in paradise.

  “You wanna grab dinner before you perform tonight?” I asked Anders gently, holding the door open for him as we headed inside the Ballroom. The club was already buzzing with waiters billowing tablecloths into place and the orchestra members milling about before they descended into the pit for sound check. “You could drop your stuff off and we could pop out to that Italian place down the street if you’re up for it. My treat.”

  “Um… Well…” Anders paused, curling his lips in, then shook his head and clenched his jaw. “Can’t. I’ve gotta warm up and get my costume on,” he shot back at me, a little coldness in his voice. “Unfortunately, I can’t perform in blackout curtains like the ones you’ve dressed my apartment up in.”

  I blinked, blindsided by this sudden shift in his demeanor. We’d been fine the whole subway ride to the club so far. Was it something I’d said?

  The fight over the curtains had seemed like a little one at first. Just a short spat over the new window coverings I’d bought where I’d explained to Anders over and over again that they were for his safety—and if that was at the expense of his sense of interior decor, it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. After he’d caved on letting me change the lock on his door and the screens on the windows I installed, I would’ve thought he’d be more understanding about the measures I was taking to keep him safe—but as it turned out, ugly oversized black curtains was where Anders drew the line.

  “Still mad at me about that, then.”

  “Not mad,” Anders replied, not even turning to look at me as I followed him through the main room towards backstage. “Annoyed, though—yes. I’m still very annoyed.”

  “They’re just a temporary thing. Just until we catch this guy.” I didn’t know how else to make my side of this argument any more clear—it was almost like he wanted that sick fuck watching us do the dirty between his sheets every night. “You know I’m just doing this to keep you safe, right?”

  “I get it, Blake. I know it’
s not your fault.” Anders gave a heavy sigh. “I’m just tired of constantly having to change up my life because some bastard wants to peep in my windows at night, okay?”

  “It sucks. I agree.” I tried to wheel around Anders, stopping him before he took the door to the locker room, but he only ducked beneath my arm so gracefully, it was like he had choreographed it with a pro. “But—”

  “Look, Blake.” Anders reeled around at the locker room door, blocking me from following him in. “You got your way. I’m letting you do your job. But I don’t want to talk about this, or getting dinner, or anything else right now, okay? I have a show to do, and you have the door to watch. You do your job, I’ll do mine.”

  “Just let me—” I started, but Anders held up a hand.

  “No Alphas in the dressing room,” he reminded me, slipping through the door and closing it behind him. “I’ll see you after the show.”

  And no matter how bad I wanted to continue the argument…I couldn’t really argue with that.

  While Anders and the other dancers got prepped, I wandered around the main floor uselessly, checking my phone to monitor the time…and secretly hoping that he might shoot me a text. I didn’t need an I’m sorry or a You were right and I was an asshole, Blake. All I wanted was a short message to know that he was okay—that we were okay. I didn’t know what had set Anders off—or why the curtains were such a sore spot for him. But the longer I found myself staring at a phone that obviously wasn’t going to buzz with a message from him, the more I was feeling like I’d really fucked up. Somehow.

  I just wished I knew what I did.

  “You’re looking pretty grumpy,” Noah said, looking up from a stack of paperwork he was completing at the bar as I slumped down onto the stool next to him. “Especially for someone who’s getting laid on the regular now, from the sounds of things.”

  I snorted. “So the cat’s out of the bag on that one then. Did Anders tell you?”

  “He didn’t need to.” Noah’s lips shifted into a wry grin. “The two of you always coming into work together with your sex-hair and your post-coital glow…”

  “That obvious?” I asked in surprise, smoothing down my hair anxiously—I hadn’t realized that I was walking around with it so messy. My parents back in Iowa would’ve killed me if they knew their clean-cut farm boy had turned into such a slob.

  “Maybe not for some people. But I’m a married man now, Blake.” Noah held his hand up, flashing me the silver wedding band on his ring finger. “I know the look of an Alpha who’s being well-fucked nightly. Almost as well as I know the look of one who’s messed up and still trying to figure out what he did.”

  “That’s the thing!” I thumped my fist down on the bar, startling the slender Omega who’d be serving drinks for the night as he straightened up the bottles of liquor. “I’m lost here, Noah. One minute, things are fine. The next…”

  Noah snorted in amusement. “What’d you say?”

  “Nothing! All I did was ask if he wanted to grab dinner, and then all of a sudden he’s going off on me about the new curtains…”

  I expected Noah to commiserate with me. Tell me that Anders was being ridiculous and that I was completely in the right. But instead, his eyebrows raised uncomfortably as he drew in a slow breath.

  “It’s not about the curtains,” Noah said, his voice tense. “Or, at least—well, it’s not all about the curtains, anyway. I’d put money on it.”

  “Then why mention them?”

  Noah reached over, patting my cheek sympathetically. “You Alphas…you’re sweet, but sometimes you’re kind of dumb, you know that?”

  My brow furrowed as I sank my teeth into my lower lip. “Well…I mean, I’m not gonna argue with you, Noah. I’m man enough to accept that, sure, I reckon I can be a real idiot sometimes. But help me out here—why am I being dumb?”

  “My guess?” Noah offered. “He’s bringing up the curtains because he doesn’t want to talk about the real reason he’s upset.”

  “And how the hell is that my fault?” I asked, genuinely confused.

  Noah only shrugged. “He’s vulnerable right now, you know? This whole stalker thing, plus a new relationship forming that he’s probably feeling a little uncertain about…”

  “If he’s feeling uncertain about us, he could just say so,” I pointed out. “What’s he want? Me to call him my boyfriend?” I set my brow and nodded with conviction. “He is my boyfriend. All he had to do was ask and I could’ve told him that.”

  “It’s probably not that easy for him. Anders has been through…a lot, you know?” Noah shook his head. “It’s not really my place to say, but if you ask me, it was probably the dinner offer that set him off. He’s under a lot of stress right now—I wouldn’t be surprised if he was falling back on some old behaviors.”

  “Old behaviors?” I blinked again, dumbfounded. It was like the more I learned about this situation, the more questions I had. Normally, I was good with relationships. A little slow on the uptake, sure, but I wasn’t just any dumb Alpha. I was more than happy to learn—as long as my partner could accept that there was a bit of a learning curve to be dealt with. “You’re losing me, Noah.”

  “Yeah. I know, man.” Noah offered me a sad smile, stacking his papers up and straightening then with his palms. “Like I said, it’s not my place to say. But if you’re willing to talk to him about it, you might get the truth out of him.”

  “The truth about what?”

  Noah checked his watch and tucked the papers beneath his arm. “It’s getting close to opening time. I should probably head backstage and prep the line-up—and you should head out front. Just…be patient with him, okay?”

  “That’s all I’m trying to do,” I insisted—but even as Noah walked away, I couldn’t help but feel like I’d made some kind of huge mistake.

  Anders was keeping something from me—which was a hell of a thing to do, considering that we’d been spending pretty much all of our time together over the course of the last few weeks. We’d been sharing our bodies with each other. Sharing our lives. His apartment. His bed. On that first night, he’d even told me that I made him feel safe—which was a huge thing for me. The thought that I could be so close to someone, feel so strongly about him, give him that kind of security, and that he could still be keeping part of himself from me like that anyway—that he could still be pulling away—hell.

  It hurt. Not the real kind of pain—I’d felt that enough when the medics had shipped me and half my squad back from Syria strapped down on gurneys. When the doctors at the VA hospital had stuck steel rods in my legs and the physical therapists had coaxed me through the months of rehab it’d taken to teach me how to walk again. It was the other kind, the kind that wormed its way deep into my brain and left me feeling half sick with dread. The kind I felt when I woke up from my flashback nightmares, after all the adrenaline had finally subsided.

  The kind I’d felt when my second-in-command had told me that I needed to buy a black suit and write some tough letters to some families who wouldn’t want to read them. The kind I’d felt when I realized I’d be attending two of my men’s funerals in a fucking wheelchair.

  “Shit,” I swore, checking my phone one more time. No messages. None at all. I didn’t know why I was expecting them at this point—Anders was probably getting ready for the opening number, not glued to his phone and worrying about assuaging my anxieties.

  But still. Would’ve been nice.

  Holding my breath, I opened the Find My iPhone app instead, seeing Anders’ credentials still keyed in instead of mine. I’d only done it a couple of times since Anders had first used my phone to locate his own, and I had to admit that I didn’t feel great about it when I did. But there was something comforting about pulling up the GPS map and knowing that he was exactly where I expected him to be. Still in the building. Still safe and sound.

  He could be as pissed at me as he wanted, if that was what made him happy. Hell, he could hate me, and I’d get by, as lon
g as I knew he was safe.

  I closed the app and sighed. I didn’t want to settle for safe, though. I wanted to fix whatever was wrong between us—and if that meant confronting him after closing time, then dammit, that was what I was going to do.

  I might have been a big, dumb Alpha…but I was also an Alpha who was falling. Hard, fast, and out of control.

  I only hoped that, no matter what was wrong, we could fix this. That things could be okay again.

  And most of all, that Anders felt the same way about me, too.

  12

  Anders

  “Ugh,” one of the new dancers groaned, his shoulders slumping beneath the weight of his gym bag.

  I shot him a sympathetic smile as I pulled my shirt over my head, my hair still wet from the shower I’d hopped into as soon as the show had finished for the night. The new dancer—Brett, I thought his name was—had a slender frame not unlike the one I’d been sporting when I first came to Heaven’s. Wiry, muscular, but far from built. It was the kind of look that could only be achieved with such a low body-fat percentage, the only way to bulk up from there was on strict diet of meat and potatoes. If I thought back hard enough, I could still remember how strange it felt to really start eating again. How foreign it felt, being satiated. Full. Anything but hungry, really. It wasn’t an easy battle, going from starving yourself to achieving beefcake status, but it was a worthwhile one. Not just for the viewing enjoyment of our Alpha clientele, but for the sake of being healthy, too.

  Still, I couldn’t help but feel for the poor guy.

  “Hey,” I called out to him. “Brett, right?”

  “Anders,” he said, a tired smile appearing on his lips. It matched the dark circles under his eyes and the pallid paleness of his skin—also a look I knew all too well. “Didn’t think someone like you would bother to remember my name.”