Page 4 of The Cheerleader

There’s a table near the stage, low-ranking Alphas with slick smiles and too much testosterone. Corporate pack boys in designer suits, pretending they’re dangerous.

One of them has been here before. He always watches me too long. Follows me with his eyes when I leave the stage. Never touches, never speaks. Until tonight. I finish the set, once more naked except for my tiny thong, hair falling into my eyes.

I rise and his hand grabs my ankle. It’s subtle, almost smooth. He plays it off like a joke. Grinning, flashing teeth. “Didn’t mean to scare you, sweetheart.”

I freeze. The spotlight burns.

I can hear security shifting. One of the bouncers steps forward, but I wave him off with a flick of my fingers. I’ve got this. I always do.

“No touching, handsome.” I give him my best fake smile before stepping out of reach. Tips are an important part of this business, and you don’t want to piss off the clientele, no matter how fucking creepy they are.

I try to keep it civil. But he follows. He grabs for me again, this time much higher, his fingers grasping my hip.

That’s when it happens. The heat under my jaw flares. The patch slips and hits the floor like a dead leaf. My scent explodes into the air. A mix of sweet and sharp and wild. Months of suppression undone in a single heartbeat. The entire room shifts.

Every Alpha in the building snaps to attention. Heads turn. Eyes flare. And me? I panic. Because the customer is still touching me. His eyes are black now, pupils blown wide with hunger as his wolf dances just beneath the surface. His fingers tighten and his mouth opens. He smells it, me. He knows the truth ... they all do.

“Let go of me,” I snarl, trying to yank free. “Now.”

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. Because I’m not a beta anymore. Not invisible and absolutely not safe. I’m an omega in full bloom, and every predator in the room just caught the scent.

He lunges but doesn’t reach me. A roar splits the air. Not human. Not even remotely. A frisson of lust creeps down my spine and then Abel is there. A blur of muscle and fury and violence. He grabs the guy by the throat and throws him across the VIP railing. The man crashes into a table, shattering glass and bone and whatever passes for ego. The music cuts and the overhead lights snap on.

And Abel is standing over me, chest heaving, eyes locked on mine. His nostrils flare as he smells me. He knows what I really am, what I have hidden from him since I got here.

His jaw goes slack like something ancient just clicked into place. For a second, just a second, I think he’s going to say my name. But what he says instead is worse.

“Mine. Mate.” The words are low. Brutal. Final.

I stumble back. “No. No, I’m not,” I deny his claim softly.

He grabs me and throws me over his shoulder, marching through the club and everyone in it to his office. Inside, he deposits me on the cool wood of his desk, his large frame between my split thighs. He stares at me intently before speaking.

“You are,” he growls. “I knew something was off with you. But this...”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” My voice breaks. And I hate that it breaks.

His hand shoots out to cup my cheek. Not gentle—possessive. Branding me from the inside out with just a single touch. I can’t hear anything past the blood rushing in my ears.

“You’ve been hiding this from me?” he says, voice dark and dangerous. “From everyone?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Bullshit,” he spits the word like venom even as his touch remains gentle.

“You don’t know me or a single thing I’ve been through. You don’t get to judge me.”

“I do now.”

I slap him. The crack echoes through his office. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even blink. He simply grabs my hands and locks them together behind my back in one of his massive hands.

“Get your hands off me,” I whisper. I say the words, but I don’t mean them. I want him to touch me everywhere. Forever.

His gaze burns with barely restrained lust, his wolf just beneath the surface pushing to break free. “I can’t.”

And suddenly, I know this isn’t just scent. This isn’t just biology. This is the bond. Fated. Destined. Everything I have ever wanted and feared.

And I’m sitting in the middle of his office on his desk, exposed, shaking, caught between fight-or-flight and something worse.

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