Angel's face falls, anxiety creeping back into his expression. "I don't like this. I don't want—"
"Babe," I interrupt gently, cupping his face in my hands. "I need you to be Angel-Boy for just a little while longer, and then I'll take you home and do all those nasty things I used to do toyou. It'll give you enough time to tell Ryker that you don't want him."
I hold my breath, wondering if Angel might have second thoughts about this whole thing. If the reality of what we're choosing might make him reconsider.
But Angel just smiles up at me, more like himself than I've seen him in months. "I can't fucking wait to tell that bastard that I don't want him." His nose scrunches up, pain flashing through his eyes at the rejection. I can’t imagine the war he’s having with his own biology, but I’m so damn happy he chose me.
"I'll be expecting an angry call from my brother later, then. Any ideas for dinner?"
Angel grins, that mischievous spark back in his blue eyes. "Surprise me."
I press another kiss to his lips before pushing him toward the attached bathroom. Once the door closes behind him, I strip out of my own clothes and find the duffel I always keep in Angel’s rooms just in case. It’s a similar suit, and only the most observant eyes would notice I’ve changed.
A few minutes later, I head back into the main room, eyes peeled for who I’m supposed to be meeting. The Alpha standing near the exit stands out immediately, the man a few inches taller than me, his shoulder much broader as well. He’s an intimidating presence in this small space, and no doubt Ryker picked this guy specifically, a not-so-subtle reminder of who's really in charge here.
But as long as he does his job and keeps Angel safe, I won't protest. Angel's well-being is more important than my ego.
I walk over and extend my hand. "It seems like you're my replacement."
The guy laughs and clasps my hand in a firm grip. "I'm also not stupid. I know Ryker only wants me here to pull you away from his Omega."
I raise an eyebrow, curious about where this is going.
"Xavi," he continues, and something about the way he says my old nickname makes me look at him more closely. "I might be a few sizes bigger than I was in high school, but we both know who Angel belongs to. And it isn't Ryker."
“Marcus?”
He nods, and I can’t even fathom why Ryker would hire the guy. Marcus fucking Williams from my old neighborhood, who used to spot me at the gym and covered for me when I'd sneak out to see Omegas my parents wouldn't approve of. He's filled out considerably since our teenage years, but those are definitely the same dark eyes and crooked smile I remember.
"Jesus Christ, really?" I shake my head in disbelief. "Of all the security firms in the city, Ryker had to pick yours?"
"Small world," he says with a grin. "But like I said, I'm not stupid. I've been watching this whole situation play out in the media, and anyone with eyes can see that Omega is miserable with Ryker. You, on the other hand..." He trails off meaningfully, reaching up to rub his chin.
"This is complicated," I warn him, though I'm grateful to have someone I trust looking out for Angel when I can't be there.
Marcus shrugs. "Most things worth doing are complicated. Besides, I've got a soft spot for love stories with happy endings."
I huff out a sigh and nod. “Thank fuck for this turn of events, but why was this so fucking urgent?”
A strained look runs through Marcus’ expression. “I was told that Angel needed an immediate replacement. You’re supposed to help me fill out the paperwork, and then I will start tomorrow morning.”
I should have known that after leaving Angel’s apartment, Ryker would have me replaced in the next day or two rather than wait for my resignation. Angel scurries past me, throwing me awide smile before slipping into the waiting car by the curb. Only when I see it drive away do I give Marcus my attention again.
“Alright, let’s make this quick. Angel’s heat is starting soon, and I don’t like the fact that they randomly scheduled another appearance.”
“Roger that, Xavi.”
Angel
The heat swirling in my lower stomach is nearly unbearable as I adjust my strappy one-piece for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. It's a beautiful blue number adorned with gold sparkles that will catch the stage lights perfectly, paired with matching gold strappy stilettos that make my legs look endless. Under normal circumstances, I'd feel confident and powerful inthis outfit. Tonight, it feels like armor I'm not strong enough to wear.
My entire body is flushed with heat, and everything feels hypersensitive and overstimulating. I'm a mess, barely holding myself together as I move toward the curtain that separates me from the stage and the crowd beyond.
I watch a few of the other performers through a gap in the curtain, trying to ground myself in their familiar routines. Usually, seeing the other dancers helps calm my pre-show nerves, reminds me that this is just another night, just another performance. But tonight, everything feels different. It’s all wrong.
"You look perfect, pretty boy."
Carter's voice behind me makes me jump. I hadn't heard him approach, too lost in my own spiraling thoughts to notice his footsteps.
