Page 40 of Rut Bar

Wait, what?I square my shoulders and try to see through this new play of his. “Really?”

Anthony takes his black server apron off and hangs it on its hook. “Really. But if you’re saying that you want me to bend you over this bar and fuck you till you forget your name, all you have to do is ask nicely, baby. Don’t forget thepleaseandDaddy.”

A shiver rolls through my body, and I fight the urge to squirm in my seat as I stare at him. “You wouldlovethat, wouldn’t you?” It’s bad enough that I’ve ever begged him for anything before without having my nose shoved in it after.That’s just fucking rude.

“So would you.” He leans onto his forearms on the counter and gives me his panty melter grin. “I can promise you this. I’ll never do anything you don’t love, whether you enjoy admitting it or not.”

Ooh, boy.I thought it was good before, but after having his cock in me… That look is absolutely devastating. “Hmm.” I drain the rest of my drink and nudge the empty glass toward him. He may have gotten me to call him Daddy, but I’m still the one in charge. During play, it’s the submissive who holds the actual power. Who determines the limits and end of a scene.

Anthony doesn’t make a fuss as he snags the empty glass and washes it in the sink along with Jamie’s empty lemonade glass. “I know nights like tonight normally take a lot out of you,” he says as he rinses the suds off and dips them in disinfectant, then lays them out on the rubber bar mat to dry. “Figured you’d need a calm end to the night to unwind.”

He’s right. Except… he’s not. I feel fine. Better than fine, actually. Normally, whenever we have to bundle an omega out to safety, I’m emotionally wrung out once the initial adrenaline rush fades. Sometimes if the alpha puts up a big fight and my bouncer and dancers have to get more involved, I hide in my office until the shaking passes.

Too many bad memories triggered by all the growling and fighting. Being a teenager in foster care wasn’t easy. Being a girl and presenting as an omega was even worse. Between other teenage fosters and my foster mother’s abusive asshole boyfriend of the month, some of them thought they could put their hands on me and get away with it. Those who tried quickly found out they were wrong.

But right now I’m good. I’m feeling better than I have in weeks. “Huh.”

“What’s wrong?” Jamie asks, his expression pinched with concern.

“Nothing,” I say. “I’m… good.” It’s like the rush of energy you get when you take one of those sketchy vitamin shots they sell at gas stations. My tension headache is gone. I’m energized, despite the late hour. The worst of my preheat symptoms have faded into the background, easy to ignore for now. It’s like I got a second wind. “I feel better than I have in a long time.”

“That’s good. I’m really glad to hear that.” He smiles, a real one rather than a lurid grin. “You should go get some rest. It’s been a long day. Walk her to her car, babe,” Anthony says.

Jamie slips off his stool, and I grab my purse and keys and follow him out. Our parking lot is well lit and we have a state-of-the-art security system, but he still glances around as if that alpha from earlier is lurking in the shadows with a baseball bat. It’s happened before. But tonight, the coast is clear.

I press the unlock button on my key fob until my car beeps, and Jamie pushes ahead to get my door for me. It’s awkward because I’m not used to it, but kind of charming coming from the sweet blond alpha. “Thank you.” I slip inside and buckle my seat belt, but he leans on the door frame instead of closing the door right away.

“I’m not good with words,” Jamie says as he tucks his hair behind his ear. “But I really like you, Vee, and I wanted you to know because if I don’t say something, I think I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Jamie,” I sigh and tap my fingers on the steering wheel to stall.

“You don’t like me?” he asks, his voice wavering.

“It’s not that.” Because I do. He’s sweet, genuine, and kind. When he stares at me like he can’t get his fill of looking at me, I feel amazing. Like I’m capable of anything. And his scent drives me wild. I can’t get enough of it. I want to dig my nose into his neck and live there. It makes me remember happier, better times, when things were so simple. I took those days for granted until they were gone. Now the memory of them is bittersweet.

“I’m not pack material,” I tell him. “Rut is my life. I work sixteen-hour days, seven days a week. Half the time I barely remember to eat. I’m allergic to being told what to do, and I have dreams. Big ones. Ambitions that keep me from being a good girlfriend who remembers to text back or call or keep plans when work stuff comes up. I can’t think about settling down and having kids right now because there’s so much work to do. I’ll disappoint you.”

Because I always do. Rut will always be the first and biggest love of my life. The work we’re doing matters more than my own personal happiness. On the surface, we give omegas a safe space for them to be free and wild. Where their needs are catered to at the expense of alphas for a change. And underneath that, we help the ones who need it the most. The abused. Trafficking victims. The runaways. The ones who are suffering.

“So you’re hurting me by saying no because you don’t want to hurt me by saying yes?” he asks, his face scrunched with thought.

If it were anyone other than Jamie, I’d say they were arguing, but he seems to be genuinely trying to piece things together. I give him a rueful smile. “A little hurt now compared to a big hurt later, yes.”

He frowns and tilts his head. “But isn’t that taking away my choice? What if I want to risk the big hurt because I think it’s worth it? Because I thinkyou’reworth it.”

I open my mouth to argue that I’m really not worth it, but he cuts me off as if he can’t keep the words contained now that he’s found them, “I drink therespect women juice, Vee, but this has bad vibes. It seems like you’re making my choice for me and that’s not fair. I choose to try. If you’ll have me. If you don’t think I’m weird or stupid or a weak alpha.”

“You’re not a weak alpha, Jamie. Being submissive in bed doesn’t make you a bad alpha.”

“It doesn’t?” The hopeful look on his face rips my heart into a hundred jagged pieces. Who hurt him? I want to stomp on their balls with my stilettos.

Submissiveness isn’t bad unless it’s forced. But I can imagine that most omegas don’t understand his urges. Most alphas don’t understand mine. “Do you think I’m being weak when Anthony has me call him Daddy?”

He shakes his head, long blond hair sliding over his broad shoulders. “No. I think it’s hot.”

“It’s fun. A make-believe fantasy. We’re all consenting adults.”

He nods. “Then you’re okay too. You’re not a bad omega if… uh… if that’s what you’re thinking when you’re with us. It’s play.”

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