Chapters (51)
- Dedication
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Epilogue
- To my readers
- PLAYLIST
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ALSO BY DEVYN SINCLAIR
People turned the line itself into a party because the chances of getting into the club were so slim. That, and in general I wasn’t a club person for all the same reasons.
“You didn’t think you could get in?”
“Oh, I know I could have. But clubbing? Alone? A recipe for disaster.”
A low growl emanated from his chest—a sound I now associated with their frustration whenever I was mistreated. It probably shouldn’t make me as happy as it did. “Well, you’re not alone now.”
Wes opened the door and got out, holding it for the two of us. “How are we getting in?” I asked.
Ben shrugged. “I know the owner. He has a killer sleeve I did for him. If we run into him, I’ll have to show you.” He was still holding my hand, and I squeezed his.
It was the little things that mattered—like not using my name as an excuse to pass go and collect two-hundred dollars.
The front of the line eyed us as we approached the bouncer. An Alpha who easily matched Ben for height and strength. He looked us up and down with a skeptical eye.
“Bennett Gray.” Ben said before the man could ask why the hell we were trying to skip three city blocks’ worth of line.
The bouncer blinked. “Of course, Mr. Gray. Welcome to the Pavilion.”
Ben nodded to Wes behind us. “This is my Omega’s bodyguard.”
“Not a problem.”
My whole body flushed with pleasure at the way he said my Omega. Utter possessiveness and no room for doubt.
A predictable groan came from the line as we stepped through. I gave them a sympathetic look and heard a gasp. “Oh my god, that’s Esme Williams.”
Ben’s hand landed on my lower back and he ushered me inside. The small entryway was relatively quiet compared with the dull roar of the crowd outside and the pulsing bass notes I felt from within.
Ben turned. “Wes, I hope you know I’m not insulting your manhood when I ask you to hold Esme’s bag?”
Wes smirked. “Not at all.”
I handed him my small purse and followed Ben into another circus.
It was immediately clear the Wellbridge Studio party had tried to imitate this vibe and failed. What they’d tried to create with a temporary space, the Pavilion was able to build and keep.