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CHAPTERONE
Madison
“I can not believey’all convinced me to come here.”
My stiletto-clad feet thumped gracelessly onto the pavement as I stepped out of the rideshare. My heart felt as if it did the same as I read the discreet sign beside the door: ARDOR. I had only heard it spoken of in whispers, but now… here I was.Fantastic.
“Ican’t believe they would letusin,” my best friend Sophia murmured, so quiet only I could hear. “So don’t panic just yet.” We exchanged looks. Sophia shared my idea of a perfect night: a tub of ice cream with multiple spoons and a rom com we’d seen a thousand times before.
The car pulled away from the curb, leaving the three of us with nothing to do but approach the tall, muscular man standing silently beside the non-descript metal door in the non-descript brick warehouse building in a less-than-fancy part of downtown.Thiswas Ardor?TheArdor? Had we gotten the wrong address?
“Ican’t believe you agreed, Mads!” squealed Charlie. I rolled my eyes at Sophia over her head–Charlie was only five foot four and I towered over her in the uncomfortable heels she had forced me into tonight, but she packed a punch: she had wheedled and cajoled until I had finally caved, agreeing to a girls’ nightoutinstead ofin. Although I’d hardly call what I did agreeing. More likegiving up. I rolled my eyes as she stared at the door, murmuring in reverential tones, “Ifinallyget to go to Club Heat.” The crude nickname made me flinch.
The bouncer seemed unimpressed by our little party: Charlie out in front, with a petite and curvy body that made men–and women–often assume her to be an omega. Sophia, pretty and blonde and oh-so-taken, her devotion to her longtime boyfriend stomping on the dreams of many a handsome stranger. And me: too tall in my borrowed heels, with hazel eyes charitable friends would call green, brown hair that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be wavy or straight… and the scent of vanilla and sugar clinging to my skin, no matter how I scrubbed at it in the shower.
My late presentation had surprised my family and friends–and me most of all. Omegas were rare–veryrare–and I didn’t have any that I knew of in my family. I had been happy to assume I was a beta. I had lived as one fortwenty-four years.And then… a fever that sent me to the hospital, landing me in the tiny, well-guarded omega ward with the other people undergoing dangerous heats alone: late bloomers. People with rare heat complications.
The packless.
So. Here I was, despite my insistence that it was, really, not needed. I found myself showing my ID card (recently amended to read SEX: F, SEX 2: OMEGA) to the huge bouncer at the door, being ushered through the entrance into a club that my friends and I had only heard about in hushed voices: the place for omegas to find packs. Rich ones. Powerful ones.
Ardor.
The long hallway behind the non-descript metal door led down into the basement level of the brick building, and as the three of us descended, I was reminded, uncomfortably, of what I was here for: there was a muted, thumping bass audible already, and the walls were covered in deep red velvet. It gave the hallway a distinctly…vaginalvibe.
“Who designed this place,” whispered Sophia, gripping my elbow. “Doctor Freud?” I giggled, the sound swallowed by the cushioned walls.
Charlie strode ahead. She would never have gotten the chance to see this place without an omega friend–me, I guessed–and was clearly thrilled to be here, even if she wasn’t pack hunting herself. “Okay, Mads, remember the game plan: dance a little, drink a little, have fun, but most importantly: scope out as many packs as you can. You’re supposed to be able to tell if they’ll be good for you, just by scent, so get a little up close and personal.” She stopped walking to do a little shimmy, looking over her shoulder seductively at me. I pushed her forward with one hand between her shoulder blades. “And forget abouthim.”
I knew just who she meant. The reminder of my recent break up did not help my mood, but I did admire Charlie’s persistence. “Yeah, yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes but smiling. “I’m sure I’ll find my destined mates tonight, Charlie, thanks.”
“Ooh,” Sophia said, gripping my arm even tighter as she wobbled in her heels next to me. “What if you did, though!”
A true romantic, that Sophia.
“Then I don’t get to come back!” laughed Charlie, as we approached a second huge man, standing before a second door, this too clad in red velvet. He opened it, stepping aside to let us pass, and I was hit by the the scent of–ofsex.Of omegas, and alphas, sweetness and musk blending together into an intoxicating cocktail that had me swaying on my feet, clad as they were in my borrowed high heels. Charlie and Sophia didn’t seem to notice–clattering on ahead, excited by the drama and intrigue of it all–while I hung back, acclimating my nose to the potent mix of pheromones that even the most expensive air filtration system couldn’t whip into submission.
I took a deep breath–like a drowning woman swallowing water–and stepped into the rest of my life.
CHAPTERTWO
Lucas
“Remindme again why the hell we’re here?” Gray growled, sipping his second non-alcoholic beer and slumping down into the plush velvet seat of our regular table at Ardor.
Itwaspathetic, I supposed, to have a regular table. To have gotten to the point of having a regular table at Ardor. It meant we–my pack–had beenstriking outmore often than we had hoped, when we had dropped the not-insignificant chunk of change for a membership here.
“We could be drinking real beer,” he continued, his brows drawn together as he stared out over the crowd, “at home. You know, that place with a big screen tv, and a stocked bar.”
“And no omegas,” I reminded him, not that he needed reminding. The club was swirling with the sweet scents of omega pheromones, honey and caramel and flowers and fruit. We didn’t havethatat home.
“I’mhaving a great time,” Rian, sitting on my other side, said, stirring his mocktail with the umbrella that stuck out of the top. On second thought, maybe the sweet smells were coming from his glass: the thing was violently pink. He’d gotten it to spite Gray, but I’d yet to see the man take more than one sip. “I personally love the atmosphere, don’t you?”
“It’s your fault we’re still fucking here, you know that, right?” Gray snapped, and I stepped up to mediate.
“Hey,” I barked, making both heads snap toward me. “It isn’t Rian who is the issue here. We agreed.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gray said, dropping his eyes back to his drink, metaphorical tail between his legs at being chastised by his pack leader. “We’re a pack, we stick together.”
