Page 25 of Going Down Smooth: Part One

A man laughs amongst the line. “Omegas should be seen not heard, with a thick knot to shut them up.” A few others laugh along with him but none of us stop as Nate passes the bouncer and ushers us in. He stops at the entrance and turns back.

“James, did you see who made the comment?” Nate asks, a frown fixed on his face as he talks to the massive guy guarding the door.

“You know I did, Nate. What do you want me to do?” the bouncer asks, large arms crossed over his barrel chest, black suit straining against a mountain of muscles. His voice is so deep I can feel it vibrating through my chest.

“Don’t let them in. In fact, remember their faces and ban them permanently,” Nate replies, raising his voice just enough to be heard by the asshole who made the comment.

“Yes, sir.” The bouncer smiles, turning his attention back to the line as Nate passes us to get the door. The sound of a piano playing beyond the heavy padded black doors, accompanied by a voice so smooth and deep, rings through the air, making Mercy’s eyes go wide as saucers as she gasps in surprise.

“Trey is singing tonight?” She looks up at Nate to confirm what she asked as he opens the doors wide for us to enter. Music surrounds us, the sound of the piano louder now as the club comes to life.

“Welcome to M. Bar, Alpha,” Nate leans down and whispers in Mercy’s ear. Standing on tiptoes she cranes her head, and he kisses her lips softly before taking her hand and pulling her behind him.Wait, did he just call her, Alpha?

As if reading my mind, Mercy looks over her shoulder as I stand in the doorway gaping after them, my eyebrows almost reaching the edges of my hairline.

“Later,” she mouths, nudging her chin for me to follow and I snap out of my shock and scurry after them.

M. Bar is a multi-level club, offering a dance floor and a more intimate experience with a stage for concerts and various types of performances. The ground floor where we are now is split in two, with stairs to the right of us leading to the longest bar I’ve ever seen. Black padded barstools attached by gold poles lined up in front of it allowing people to sit and gaze down at the entertainment below.

The bar itself is lit up with bright blue and white lights, illuminating the glass shelves that climb high into the ceiling with every brand of booze you could ask for. The bar itself consists of gold-plated metal, gleaming from the constant wiping of the tall, dangerous looking Alpha behind it. His staff bustle around him as he barks orders I can’t hear, and they rush to and fro to serve the long lines of waiting customers. Another one of Mercy’s Alphas, Lox. His actual locs are piled high in a bun, the sides of his head shaved and edged to perfection, tattoos run down his neck and beyond. Lox is massive, with smooth ebony skin and dark knowing eyes. He sees us and smiles, beckoning us over, but Mercy’s attention is elsewhere.

We walk up a small set of stairs and step onto a platform, almost like a viewing balcony, which juts away from the bar. I can only assume it’s for guests who want to remain standing and enjoy the show before them, without straying too far from the bar.

The space below is large but intimate at the same time. Black wingback chairs surrounding circular tables covered with black and gold tablecloths sit intricately around the room, with a small dance floor beside them. Along the exposed brick side walls are private booths, with low lighting and black leather seats on either side. The décor of this place is modern with a touch of speakeasy vibes, and I wonder if this was all Nate as well.

There isn’t an empty spot available, everyone below us is watching the man on the stage as he sits under a single spotlight. Trey leans forward, his fingers dancing slowly over the keys of the grand piano, his voice like silk as people sing along with him. The strike of the keys is haunting, and I recognize the tune almost instantly. Just the sound of it makes my heart heavy and my throat clog with emotion, but damn, does Trey make it sound amazing.

Mercy stops and watches, completely enraptured, her lips moving softly as she sings right along with him. Donny Hathaway’s “Giving Up”makes my heart lurch in my chest; the lyrics both beautiful and heartbreaking. A song of love, loss, and longing. All the things which I can only assume have plagued this man since she left. Mercy told me once that her mother yearned for her to sing professionally, that Trey taught himself to play in order to sit in on her lessons, just to be with her. I mean, God, these men. Of course, Mercy wanted to make bourbon and work alongside her father, and the singing took a backseat. She never told me why she stopped but I’m sure there is a story to it, I have no doubt.

“This song is a bit sad, but his voice is soul shattering,” I say over the noise of the crowd.

“Yeah, he likes to warm up the crowds with the heart bleeding, gut wrenching numbers first.” Nate laughs, leaning behind Mercy to speak directly to me as the crowd shouts, “Yeah!”, “I feel that!”, “Sing, Trey!” and whoops of knowing, feeling the music right along with him.

“He always sings as if he’s the only one in the room.” Mercy finally turns her attention back to us, eyes rimmed with unshed tears as the last notes of the song finishes, and people begin to applaud wildly.

“You mean he sings as if you are the only person in the room.” Nate leans down and his lips find her cheek like a homing beacon, making Mercy blush. I stare at the exchange, wondering what happened to my best friend. This is not the same woman I dropped off at the airport two weeks ago. Two weeks ago, Mercy was closed off, guarded, and determined to attend her father’s funeral without causing too much of a stir. But this Mercy. . .well, I’ve honestly never met her, and I can’t wait to see her open up further with these men by her side.Mercy Smooth is a blusher. I have seen it all!

“Thank you. Thank you,” Trey says with a soft smile on his face, looking out into the crowd, his eyes landing on Mercy, like she’s a magnet, drawing them all to her from wherever she is in the room.

“Come on, let me get you ladies seated. Trey will take a break and then the DJ will start a set in a few minutes.” Nate holds out his hand for Mercy again and we follow.

“There’s my beautiful Mouse.” Lox leans over the bar, his height making it easy as he blocks our path just shy of the long lines of waiting customers. “Can I have kiss, Alpha?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, and again I am stumped. He calls her Alpha too.

I have so many questions.

Mercy drops Nate’s hand and crosses the short distance between them. Lox tracks her footsteps like a predator, yet his eyes are soft, love shining through his gaze. When she reaches him, his hand snaps out possessively, grabbing the nape of her neck, yanking her to him before he slams his mouth over hers. He kisses her like he’s going to war, with a dominating hunger that makes me turn away as he claims her openly. Nate purrs in satisfaction at his display, but it all feels too intimate for me to keep my eyes on them and be comfortable. I mean, I am all for PDA but watching him lap at her lips like he wants to spread her over the bar and well, eat the shit out of her, leaves me reeling.

I glance away as he rubs his scent into her skin, marking her so every man and woman in this room knows who she belongs to. No, who he belongs to. The private moment makes me put a little space between us and I back away only to collide with a solid wall.

I freeze as strong hands hold me steady, as if I might balk and run for my life. Considering I’ve bumped into a stranger who may or may not take offense to me touching them, I may need to.

Damn it, Free, you need to pay attention,I berate myself internally. Before I can turn and apologize the scent of warm sugar, heady and sweet, hits me hard. My head swims from the sheer decadence of it. My knees go weak, and I hate to admit it, but I think my vagina cries out in elation. This person at my back smells absolutely divine, they smell like. . .like. . .

Mine.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The sound of an even deeper chuckle brings me back down to earth as reality plants my feet firmly on the ground. There’s a stranger with his hands on me. Not just any man. From his mouthwatering scent I know exactly what he is, which makes this encounter ten times worse. He already belongs to someone else.

Not mine.I can almost imagine the massive sad face emoji hovering over my head.

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