by Piper Scott
Lucian closed the fridge. He stood, studying Clarissa’s face. “So does that make you a partial owner, too?”
“I have shares, but it’s not like I really have much sway in any of the decisions Sterling makes. What he wants, he does. That’s kind of the way he is.” She unhooked a rack filled with dirty dishes and set it on the counter. “But before I go on and on ranting and raving about the big brother who so generously keeps me employed, I think we should make sure we’re set for tonight. You mind running these dishes down to the kitchens before we get swamped again? I don’t know where the busboy is tonight, but he’s not doing us any favors.”
“Yeah, sure.” Lucian brushed past her to heft the dish rack from the counter. Glasses got heavy fast. “You need anything from downstairs?”
“Nope. Not unless you can get me through that front door so I can kick back for the rest of the night.” Clarissa waved him off. “Now go on. No more procrastinating. It’s Friday night and that means there’s no way we’re going to stay dead for long. I need you back here to help me tackle the hordes.”
Lucian laughed. He ducked out from behind the bar, dishes in hand, and got moving. The kitchen was on the ground floor, a tiny speck of a room in the same out-of-the-way corridor as the bathrooms. The Shepherd didn’t serve food, but the kitchen was useful in other ways. Excess bar supplies were kept there, as were the commercial dishwashers. A dedicated kitchen supervisor and busboy kept dominion over the space, and they ruled the room much like Clarissa was teaching Lucian to rule the bar.
The stairs to the ground floor were dotted with people, some gathered in small groups to chat, others on their way up to the public rooms or down to the dance floor. Lucian kept to the right side of the stairs, and only once did he have to step around a group not paying attention to his passage. The young woman he brushed by, nude except for the pasties that covered her nipples and a thong that was barely there, looked at him with wide, startled eyes, like it had never occurred to her that there were people in motion around her. The oblivious look wasn’t unique to her. Lucian saw it from time to time in the expressions of others, especially those who’d recently left the public rooms.
It had once reminded Lucian of the way he’d checked out of reality when purchased by a particularly unappealing client, but after what he’d shared with Marcus, he was beginning to think it was something else.
No one in The Shepherd was suffering.
At least, not against their will.
Lucian made it to the bottom landing. The rack was starting to cut into his fingers, and he grimaced as he followed the wall to the short hallway that led to the kitchen. The party on the ground floor was in full swing—the dance floor was packed. Full nudity wasn’t permitted there, but it didn’t stop people from coming up with inventive ways to circumvent the rules. Lucian glimpsed a young man in a pair of sheer panties and a collar entertaining two much older men. It wasn’t until one of the older men tugged his nearly-nude partner toward him and kissed him hard that Lucian decided it was best to keep his eyes to himself.
He hurried onward to the kitchen.
Down the hallway leading to his destination, Lucian ran into another crowd of people. They clustered along the walls leading to the bathrooms. Lucian kept his gaze averted and made for the kitchen door, but before he could make it, he heard a familiar voice.
“No.”
Marcus.
Lucian looked up to find Marcus not ten feet away, back against the wall and expression drawn. Before him was Adrian—an omega Lucian had become familiar with. Adrian was no stranger to The Shepherd, and his peacocking made him hard to miss. Once, early into Lucian’s employment, Marcus had told him that Adrian liked to think he was The Shepherd’s biggest star. Lucian couldn’t think of a better descriptor for Adrian’s behavior.
He was pushy, crass, and entitled.
Lucian had only ever served him drinks, but Adrian’s aura alone left him feeling like they wouldn’t get along.
Adrian, uncharacteristically, was dressed. The front of his shirt was open, but he was no less decent than that.
“It’s just a dance,” Adrian said. Lucian came to a stop, aware that he was staring, but unable to take his eyes away. “We’re at a club, Marcus. When is the last time you had fun?”
“I always have fun when I come here.” Marcus’ tone did not give. “I’m not interested in dancing.”
“You danced last month with Boy,” Adrian insisted. “You and Cyrus.”
“If you’re so set on dancing, why don’t you find Cyrus? I’m sure he would love to dance with you.”
The look in Adrian’s eyes sharpened. “Cyrus has enough on his plate with Boy. They’re already up on the second floor, you know. But I guess you wouldn’t know, because I can’t remember the last time I saw you in one of those rooms.” The bite in Adrian’s words became less severe as he padded his harsh criticism with insincere empathy. “It can’t be fun for you, coming here night after night only to come away empty-handed. I know that you want a perfect submissive—someone who’s going to be the docile, playful, always-horny sex toy you need—but until you find him, why don’t you play with me? I don’t have to be dominant, you know. If it’s what you want, I’ll let you call the shots. I don’t always need to be in control.”
Lucian ducked his gaze, sudden dread spreading through his chest like black dye through clear water. The plastic handles of the rack dug into the backs of his fingers, burning. He knew he needed to get to the kitchen to drop off the dishes so he could get back to Clarissa, but his feet were glued to the spot. More than anything, he wanted to butt in and tell Adrian to mind his own goddamn business, but he couldn’t.
He had to watch as Marcus was tempted by an omega more sure of himself than Lucian could ever be—an omega Marcus didn’t have to hide his interest in.
“Thank you for the offer, but I’m not interested.” Marcus’ voice didn’t waver.
“Why not?”
“I don’t have to offer you an explanation.”
“No, you don’t.” Adrian was bitter. The acidity inside of him carried in his words. “But you could at least offer me a little courtesy. I’m trying to help you out. That’s all.”
Lucian didn’t believe it for a second. Adrian was trying to paint himself as the good guy, but Lucian was certain that it was only because he was trying to manipulate Marcus into doing what he wanted.
“I thanked you,” Marcus said plainly. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s a glass of bourbon waiting for me upstairs. Enjoy the rest of your night. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Lucian watched Marcus push past Adrian. Marcus lifted his gaze. Their eyes met. A primal connection passed between them, an instant spark that lit Lucian on fire and put to rest his fears that Marcus would look for sex with someone else. In Marcus’ eyes there was steadfast resolution, and behind that resolution was devotion.
Commitment.
Marcus had found the one he wanted, and in that look, Lucian knew that it was him.
They said nothing with their words as their paths crossed, but that look told Lucian everything he needed to know. Cheeks heating, he continued on his way to the kitchen, accidentally checking Adrian’s shoulder on the way.
“Sorry!” Lucian uttered, drawing upon every theatrical bone in his body to drive the performance home. “My bad.”
Adrian’s eyes tore through him, and Lucian saw their fire. The coals of Adrian’s eyes were scorched and hardened, and Lucian had a feeling that he wasn’t done pursuing the one who’d burned him.
Lucian hurried into the kitchen, not drawing a breath until he was through the kitchen doors.
Not everyone at The Shepherd was as morally upright as Marcus seemed to be. Not everyone was as respectful. The fire in Adrian’s eyes was a good reminder of what else was out there—of the future Lucian wanted to avoid.
If nothing else, Adrian’s display was motivation. Lucian refused to let the man he wanted be stolen away by someone e
lse.
It was time to stake his claim. He was ready.
He would be Marcus’. He wasn’t afraid anymore.
16
Lucian
When the doors of The Shepherd had closed to the public and Lucian was excused for the evening, he didn’t head home—instead, he ducked into the alley and sought out the easily overlooked alcove in the hopes that the man who’d been on his mind all night would be waiting for him there. Shadows shifted as he approached, and from them emerged the one he wanted more than any other.
Marcus extended his hand, and Lucian took it. They stepped into the shadows of the alley together.
“You were busy tonight,” Marcus remarked. He kissed the corner of Lucian’s lips, and Lucian lifted his head and gave in to him. “We didn’t even have time to play.”
“It’s fine.” Lucian rested his arms around Marcus’ neck, holding himself lightly against Marcus’ body. Their back alley meetings had grown to be the highlight of Lucian’s week, but tonight what they shared was different. Tonight, Lucian was there for more than hushed conversation. “There will be other nights, won’t there?”
“Of course.”
“Then there’s no need to regret this one.” Lucian’s fingers brushed the back of Marcus’ neck. He rested his head against Marcus’ shoulder, bolder than he’d been before. “The only thing I regret is what you went through with Adrian.”
“He’s persistent, but he’s harmless,” Marcus promised. “His words are sharp, but his claws aren’t. I told him no, and he knows that I meant it.”
“The look in his eyes didn’t say that.”
“Then he’s wasting his time. I politely declined his advances. I’m not changing my mind.”
The moon was close to full, but the night was dark. Clouds had rolled in during Lucian’s shift, hiding what few stars there were to be seen and plunging the world in darkness. But the darkness didn’t last—a startling flash lit up the sky, and as Lucian jumped and clung tighter to Marcus, a distant rumble followed.
Thunder.
“Are you afraid of storms?” Marcus asked.
“I… a little.” Lucian closed his eyes. He breathed in the scent of alpha from Marcus’ skin, burrowing against the crook of his neck to take strength in it. “It’s not rational. I know that I don’t have any reason to be afraid, but the suddenness of it makes me jumpy—the lights, the noise…”
“We should get you somewhere safe, then,” Marcus said. “Let me take you home tonight. It’s going to rain.”
“No, thank you.” Lucian didn’t want Marcus to see where he lived. He wasn’t ashamed of living in subsidized housing, but he did find himself ashamed of his past. It would be simple to trace the apartment building all the way back to Stonecrest, and from there, Marcus could piece together the rest. Lucian didn’t want that. Marcus treated him like he was normal, and Lucian was reluctant to give that up for the convenience of a free ride.
“You want to stay out here?” There was laughter in Marcus’ words, faint, but audible. “The sky’s going to open up any second. We’re lucky it hasn’t already.”
“I don’t mind getting wet.” Lucian pressed a kiss against Marcus’ collarbone through his shirt, then lowered himself slowly, letting his kisses trail down Marcus’ chest and stomach until he’d arrived on his knees. Lucian nuzzled against the front of Marcus’ pants. “Do you?”
Marcus huffed a laugh. “No. Not when you ask like that.”
“Good.”
Lucian nosed Marcus’ shaft, feeling him start to harden. The first raindrops began to fall, hitting the overhang with tiny metallic tinks. As long as they stayed where they were, they wouldn’t be soaked.
“If I belong to you,” Lucian murmured, his lips brushing Marcus’ erection. “If it’s your cum stored in my balls and your thoughts in my head, then does that mean that my body is as much a part of you as your arm is, or your leg?”
“That’s right, fledgling,” Marcus told him. “That’s right.”
“Have you heard of phantom limbs before?” Lucian asked. He glanced up at Marcus, but the storm plunged them in shadow so dark that it obscured him.
“No.”
“When someone loses a body part, sometimes the person will still feel that limb there. The body mourns the parts of itself that it lost and remembers them, just like we remember a loved one who’s passed.” Lucian lifted a hand, freeing the strap of Marcus’ belt from its buckle. Marcus did not stop him. “So if I’m a part of you, do you feel it when I’m gone? Does your body remember me even when we’re apart?”
Another flash lit up the sky. A rumble followed. In its aftermath, Marcus replied. “I do.”
“I think my body misses yours in the same way,” Lucian admitted. He undid the button of Marcus’ fly and guided the zipper beneath to its end. “All week I’ve been restless, antsy, just… eager for tonight. To see you. To be here, in this tiny alley. And it’s because I belong to you. Because our bodies miss each other when they’re apart.”
With Marcus’ fly down, Lucian nuzzled against the newly exposed layer of fabric. The smell of alpha was stronger now, flooding his nostrils and waking up the submissive instincts omegas naturally embodied. Lucian closed his eyes. When he spoke again, he wasn’t sure that Marcus could hear him.
“And if I’m yours, and everything I am belongs to you, then in a way, you belong to me, too.”
The insecurities Adrian had stirred in him pried him open and left him vulnerable. Lucian half-hoped that Marcus couldn’t hear him make such bold declarations. He wasn’t sure where they stood. Marcus was a patron of The Shepherd, and Lucian doubted that sex meant much to him. But then again, Lucian had been a whore, and once upon a time, sex had been routine. There were times when he’d enjoyed himself, and there’d even been alphas he’d wished would buy him from Baylor and take him home, but he knew now that no john had ever made him feel.
Not like Marcus did.
“I don’t want you with anyone else,” Lucian whispered. He lowered the elastic of Marcus’ underwear, letting his tongue run up the length of Marcus’ shaft. “I don’t want that. It makes me ache thinking about it.”
The words were more for Lucian’s sake than they were for Marcus’ ears, and he didn’t care if they were lost. His tongue twirled, old habits guiding his movements. He knew how to figure out what a man liked. He knew how to listen for the sharp inhalation marking peaked pleasure, or the throaty, sometimes muted grunt that signified appreciation. He’d mastered reading body language—even if it was by touch and not by sight—to understand the intricacies of an individual’s journey toward climax.
Tonight, he would let Marcus know that they belonged to each other.
Lucian closed his eyes, distancing himself from the way small stones dug into his knees. Rain pattered upon the overhang, filling the silence. He did his best to drown out the flashes of lightning that breached his eyelids even when they were closed and ignore the distant rumbles that shook his soul. He focused on his tongue instead, learning Marcus’ length for the first time not by sight, but by touch, by taste, and by scent. And when Lucian heard the sharp inhalation he’d been waiting for, he let his tongue play against that spot until Marcus was wound tight and dripping for him.
Only then did he seal his lips and let Marcus plunge into his mouth.
What they shared didn’t leave Lucian hollow. It didn’t drag him back to his days at The White Lotus, where Director Baylor would watch with partially lidded eyes, reclined in his office chair, as Lucian swallowed his cock while another of Baylor’s boys licked his lips and begged for his turn.
What he shared with Marcus liberated Lucian instead.
This was what he wanted. This was his gift to give. Marcus was his choice.
Just as it was his choice to let Marcus invade him.
Lucian let him into his throat, ignoring the sudden seizing of his gag reflex. He let Marcus claim him. And when Lucian’s nose was buried at the base of Marcus’ cock and he sme
lled the alpha on him stronger than he had before, he reveled in it instead of despaired.
Stonecrest had chipped away the worst of the damage done to him and turned him into a functional human being, but it was Marcus who rescued him from who he’d been.
Lucian would never forget it.
Another flash of lightning struck, followed by a crash instead of a rumble. Its noise shook Lucian, but he didn’t let it tear him from the moment. The sounds, selfish and near-silent, that tumbled from Marcus’ lips drew him in instead.
“Fledgling,” Marcus uttered. A hand wove through Lucian’s hair, rewarding him for a job well done. “God, fledgling, do you have any idea how good you feel?”
Lucian knew, and he embraced it.
He aimed to make Marcus feel even better.
When Marcus’ cock next plunged deep, Lucian tightened his throat around it. The pulse of his gag reflex fluttered against Marcus’ shaft, and Lucian buried his face against Marcus’ groin to try to drive him in deeper. Tension coursed through Marcus’ body. Lucian felt it clench in his balls, and he knew that the end was near.
“I have cum for you, fledgling,” Marcus uttered. His hand caressed the back of Lucian’s head with urgency. “So much cum. I want you to swallow it. I want it inside of you.”
Lucian wanted that, too.
A tremor ran through Marcus’ cock, and Lucian drew back just in time so Marcus shot into his mouth instead of down his throat. The seed was warm and bitter, but it bore the same notes of alpha that Lucian had detected in Marcus’ scent. The taste of that wild aggression made Lucian melt. He sucked at Marcus as he came, his lips kissing Marcus’ shaft in a bid for more.
Marcus gave Lucian all that he could take, and when there was none left to receive, Lucian drew back to lap and suck at the head of Marcus’ cock. Marcus’ fingers tightened, and Lucian found himself separated from the cock he’d drained. He was guided to his feet. Once he was upright, Marcus wrapped him in his arms and kissed him hard. The kiss was brief, but it left Lucian dumbstruck.