Page 2 of Omega Untamed
I always somehow got the center table at Moosie’s, no matter how busy it was. I sat like a king while other Omegas I knew—and some I didn’t—came and went.
The Omega waiters served me drink after drink, always bending down to tell me who paid for each one.
“This is from the Alpha with the red hat in the far left corner.”
“This is from the Alpha by the door who keeps sneezing.”
“This is from the Alpha who looks like a frog.”
I would raise my glass, meet their eyes, and drink. But never get up. No. Not until I was ready. Etiquette, for me at least, was that if you were an Alpha and you wanted me for a night, you never approached me. You let me come to you.
I didn’t have to advertise my rules. They were known. People talked. People talked about me. I had a reputation. People knew my name. Kee. Everywhere I went, they knew me even if we’d never met. They knew if they wanted me, they had to wait for me to choose.
Once in a while, if someone got rough, or tried to approach me and force me, the cops would be called either by a friend, me or even strangers.
One cop once said to me, “With the money you make, I suggest a bodyguard.”
“I can take care of myself,” I scoffed. It made me bristle to think it. That any Alpha had the right or thegallto make me feel in danger.
I let it be known I had powerful Alpha friends and if anyone tried anything with me, anyone I didn’tchoose, my Alphas would retaliate.
It was a lie, of course.
But it worked. The armor I had on the streets was invisible and unreal. But they didn’t know that. And I had started to believe in it myself.
Tobi came by again in a cloud of whiskey breath and sweat. “You keep eying the wrinkled dude. Can it. He may look rich but he’s bad news.”
“I handle bad news just fine every day.”
Tobi smirked.
I got a tiny bit drunk. And prettier, I guess, because more Alphas bought me drinks than I could keep up with and I started giving them away.
I coyly asking around. “What’s the wrinkled guy’s name?”
“Myre,” said an Omega I’d never met.
“Myre? What a horrible name!”
I didn’t really drink as much as I pretended. For every drink I got, I took maybe three sips, then let them melt to ice. Later, the ones I gave away never touched my lips.
I needed some wits about me to ply my trade.
But I also needed a few hits of steam to keep me going. Steam was the street word for uppers. They gave you popping energy. They made erections hard and strong and last for hours.
When I got up to go to the john, Tobi and two others trailed me, probably hoping I’d buy a lot and share. Yeah, I always did.
The dealers tonight were Marc and Stiv. I knew them well. “Hey” We slapped hands in the usual greeting. I pulled out a wad of cash.
Stiv handled the money, Marc had the merch.
“Aren’t Cho and Rebel usually on Friday nights?”
Stiv grunted.
Marc shook his head.
“They get arrested or something?”
