Page 2 of Sweet Whiskey
Brielle shrugs out of my hold and steps closer to him, pointing a finger into his chest. “I dare an alpha tofollow their instincts.”Her fingers make quotations in the air as she mockingly sneers the words. “I’ll bend him over like the bitch he is. I’ll cut off his dick and feed it to him.”
The man’s eyes gleam as his gaze drags down Brielle’s body again in a slower measure before he smirks and waves us through the door. “Welcome to Sweet Whiskey.”
She straightens her shoulders, flicks her hair over them, and gives him a saccharine smile. “Thanks, darlin’. Make sure you stare as I walk past, it’s the closest you’ll ever get to my ass.”
The bouncer’s tongue sweeps across his bottom lip before he bites down on it with a slight shake of his head. I keep my head tilted down as I scurry past him, practically choking on their pheromones.
“Hone it in,” I hiss into her ear as I push past her. He’s rather attractive, so I don’t blame her,especially since alphas and omegas have rampant sexual tension between each other. Our nature’s biology calls us to reproduce as much as possible. But I know Brielle doesn’t mess around much unless she’s close to her heat, and after his warning, I’m nervous about fueling a rejected alpha’s anger.
I smile at the charm of the place as soon as we step inside. The large U-shaped bar top sits in the middle, worn-in stools filled with patrons underneath. It’s so large that the bartenders nearly have to shove the entire top halves of their bodies over to hand customers their drinks. Even from where I stand, I can see the wood is scuffed up with marks and stickers. My eyes track over the numerous neon signs, random highway signs and rusted licenses, plus mismatched picture frames hung on the walls. To the far left are multiple pool tables and one corner of darts. Directly across the bar is a wall of booths with cracked plastic red cushions. When I turn to look at Brielle, I gasp at the gorgeous jukebox behind her. It’s probably in the best condition out of everything.
“This is amazing,” I whisper in awe. My nose wrinkles at the faint scent of beer and cigarettes,but the suppressants dull what I can smell. I imagine our clothes will stink by the time we head to rent a room at the inn we passed on our way into town.
My best friend half shrugs. “It’s alright,” she says, but I can see the clear appreciation in her gaze. Something about this place calls to both of us.
“Please, it’s better than St. Angelo’s back home.” I playfully shove her shoulder with mine. The small pub minutes from my apartment seems incredibly stiff in comparison to this place.
Brielle sniffs. “I will admit that, yes.”
Taking her elbow, I pull us closer to the bar top, ignoring the eyes that seem to follow us. I can guess that out here, they don’t get a lot of new faces. We’re nearly two hours from the biggest city, and thirty minutes from the next town over. By the time we pulled into the parking lot, I was starting to get used to the miles of land on either side of the road without a building in sight.
There’s a peacefulness here I’ve never experienced in the city. There you can’t move a few feet without running into someone else, and the apartmentmy mom and I had was a step above a broom closet. I had skipped months of rent after she died before the landlord finally evicted me, but at that point I had been determined to come find my dad. We hadn’t factored in how costly gas and random motel stays would be, especially when Brielle’s parents promptly cut off access to her cards.
Something soars in my heart that this is where I’m meant to be, no matter how we land on our feet. I’m not sure how Brielle feels, but I assume that with each passing week, the disdain for the simple life will start to wear on her.
When we stand at the end of the counter, waiting patiently for the bartender's attention, I glance at her.
“You know you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”
Brielle sighs. “And do what? Go back to my parents, give in to their demands, and for what? Money? I can live without, Kinsey.”
I hold up my hands. “I know, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Her narrowed eyes take me in. “Where is this coming from?”
“The fact that I’m considering if we have enough to buy drinks and a room and food,” I say.
She scowls. “I still have my academy card.”
I give her an incredulous look. “You don’t think they cut it off too?” Most of the time, the academy would pay us an allowance if we participated in sponsored events. I drained mine as soon as my mother’s health started to decline, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Brielle’s parents took control of hers.
“My parents?” She laughs humorlessly. “No, they’d keep it on to ensure I can use it and then hang it over my head. They cut off the ones to their direct bank accounts to make a point. But if we need it, it’s an option.”
Shaking my head, I sigh. “We’ll just order a single drink to blend in and then call it a night and possibly look for jobs tomorrow.” We both grimace at the thought of working, but it is what it is. I knew when I started this journey that it might come toit, but usually most places don’t prefer to hire omegas.
Brielle holds my hand, pulling me through the crowd and ignoring the interested looks thrown our way. A woman with spiky black hair and bright purple eyes watches us from behind the bar, a soft smile dawning on her face when we get closer.
“What you having, sweetie?”
I pause, unsure what to order because I’ve never drunk more than an occasional beer.
She catches my expression, looking over me warily. “You sure you’re old enough to be here?”
“Yes, sorry. Just was never a big drinker. Do you have a menu?” I ask.
She snorts, shaking her head. “I’ll grab you our special. And you, blondie?”
Brielle’s lips tighten, and I brace for the snark. She hates being called blondie as much as I hate being called red. My hair is a darker auburn, and in the sun it’s a bright copper. She sees my face and expression, forcing a fake smile instead. “The same.Thanks.” The last word is pushed through clenched teeth.
