Page 3 of Shaken Knot Stirred

Well, not completely. Your aura was your aura. You were born with it and you died with it. It grew and shifted as you matured and gained life experience. Only trauma could cause sudden changes. But auras shifted all the time. Their colors and textures morphed like an octopus. They could flush with sudden intense emotion.

It was his aura that had sucked me in at first. His stereotypical bad-boy-in-a suit look didn’t hurt either. But his aura was what got me. It was powerful but constrained, like a wind-up toy cranked to the max but not allowed to uncoil. Powerful alphas typically had a different signature. They toned down their auras rather than held them back. My little book nerd seemed to be in his own masquerade, pretending to be average.

His aura was seeking something. A tendril of energy whipped around him, a tentacle of longing reaching out for completion but held back by obligation. And that was downright weird. He had no pack bonds, no mate attachments, no scent match markers which usually rooted an aura to obligation. It was like he was beholden to something that didn’t exist. I’d say it was unrequited love, but that wasn’t quite right.

Condensation on the glass made it slippery. I tapped its heavy bottom to the spine of his book before setting it down.

“How do you accidentally become a vampire? What, do you fall on someone’s fangs or something?” I cocked my hip and crossed my arms with the table between us.

He folded the book around his middle finger again like he was showing distain for the humble bookmark. He tilted the cover toward me so I could read the full title and not just the spine.

“Ego and hubris.” His voice was audible velvet, deep and smooth. He set the book aside and eyed the drink I had delivered. He picked it up with three fingers and promptly took a sip. He never asked what it was or why I brought him a different drink every day.

His usual was Bedivere Whiskey. That did not suit him at all, but I was a good girl and gave him what he wanted. The drinks all flopped, and it seriously irritated me. Not that he would know that. He drank every single one, savoring each like it was the elixir of life. He might smell like a White Russian Croissant but that wasn’t what his aura tasted like. No taste suited it.

When I had started this drink obsession, I had thought I was matching flavors to scents. But it went deeper than that, or as deep as a boozy drink could get. Figuring it out, debating it in my head, secretly testing my ideas helped me cope with the sensory overload, especially in crowded spaces.

“Moxie,” he said, picking up the glass with a sense of reverence, like I had given him a priceless treasure. As it touched his lips, he closed his eyes, blocking out other senses to fully enjoy the experience. “It has a bite.”

Bites. Knots.This was a mistake. Why did I always have to play with fire?

“I like my drinks to be assertive. They let you know who’s boss.”

“Well, I’ll be a good boy then,” he nodded toward the glass, “for the drink at least.”

And this was how it went, every day for at least the past month. He’d saunter in with a book, order a single drink, and turn page after page after page. Occasionally, someone would get rowdy in the bar and I’d have to break out the bat. He’d do nothing morethan close his book and stand, and let his aura and presence do all the bullying for him. He didn’t intervene, just let me handle the show, but he made it known that he’d clean up if he had to.

I liked that more than I wanted to admit. It was a rare alpha who could sit back and let an omega go to town. But he didn’t know I was an omega. Like everyone else who wandered into the Delta Lounge, they all believed that Moxie Scheele was enough of a beta bitch to hold the joint down.

He was so out of place for this bar, and yet he fit it perfectly. I hadn't wanted to drop a whole lot of money in redecorating when I took over this place. There was a lot of dark wood and red accents that made the space feel homey, with a pool table and a long bar with a beaten up brass rail that reminded you that this was in fact. The only significant change I made was to pull down the "dogs playing poker" art and replace it with framed movie and music posters. And yet, his designer clothes, heavy watch that obviously cost more than I made in a year, and his every changing selection of books somehow just became part of the Delta Lounge's allure.

“Who are you? Do you have a name?” I normally never asked personal questions of patrons. It was never necessary. People treated the bar like a therapy session and just vomited their problems with no prompting.

“You have a nickname for me. You have one for all your regulars. Low Boy, Becky…” He nodded toward the girl at the bar.

“That happens to be her government name, thank you very much.”

“Really? That tracks.”

“Yo, Moxie.” Low Boy, the aforementioned beta regular called out from his table, as his little crew got to their feet. He waved the receipt folio and slapped it on the table. Helena double timed it to cash them out. The alpha didn’t move a hair, but his aurastood at attention like the pack of gamer boys was going to be a problem.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Fucking biology. Alphas were hard-wired to protect what was theirs. Most omegas couldn’t help but respond to that.

Fuck all the way off with that. I didn’t need anyone or anything that I couldn’t make for myself.

I turned to bus the table and get closing underway.

“Alistair.” His voice went right to my core and rumbled there.

I took two steps away and paused.

“Book Nerd,” I said over my shoulder, giving him his nickname. His deep, rich chuckles chased me into the kitchen.

Chapter 2

Moxie

Marty was on theother side of the stainless steel island counter. He was leaning back on his elbows against the sink with a plastic quart container in his hands. He tipped it to his lips, and I watched him swallow, my mouth watering. I clattered the random glasses in my hands onto the counter, and with little fuss, I walked up to Marty and pulled on the tie of his apron, my movements harsh and clumsy. Just being across the bar from the alpha jacked my horniness to eleven.

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