Four Alphas Bow To Only Me

The rock music blearing from the bass thumped through the floor of The Crimson Moon hard enough to rattle Rachel's teeth.

She balanced three martini glasses on her tray; two dirty, one with a twist, and navigated through the crush of bodies with the practiced ease of someone who'd been doing this job for two years.

Men on designer suits and ladies on silk dresses were seen gyrating to the rock music coming from the speakers.

The air smelled like expensive cologne, aged whiskey, and something else she could never quite name.

"Rachel! Table seven needs you five minutes ago!" Marcos, the floor manager, snapped as she passed the bar.

"On it," she called back, not bothering to hide her eye roll once her back was turned.

Her feet ached in the required four-inch heels. The black cocktail dress they made all the waitresses wear was too tight across her hips, and the diamond-studded collar felt like a leash.

But the tips at The Crimson Moon paid her rent, kept ramen in her cupboard, and occasionally allowed for luxuries like new underwear.

So she smiled, delivered the martinis to the trio of silver-haired men who didn't even bother to give her a second glance, and pocketed the fifty-dollar tip without comment.

"Girl, you look like you're about to murder someone." Suzy appeared at her elbow, somehow making the same ridiculous uniform look like haute couture.

Her best friend had that gift, turning everything she touched into something beautiful. Even waitressing looked like performance art when Suzy did it.

"Just counting down to closing," Rachel muttered sighting, scanning the crowd for empty glasses and raised hands. "Three more hours."

"It's your birthday." Suzy bumped her hip against Rachel's. "You're twenty-one. We should be out getting drunk, smoking joint and making bad decisions, not serving entitled rich people their overpriced alcohol."

"Some of us have rent due in four days."

"Some of us are going to die of boredom before we're twenty-two." Suzy grabbed a bottle of champagne from the bar. "Table twelve. Want to split it after shift? I've got that bottle of tequila we've been saving."

Rachel grinned. "You're a terrible influence."

"That's why you love me."

Suzy disappeared into the crowd, her dark hair swinging. Rachel turned toward the kitchen to grab her next order and froze.

Rowan Blackwood stood near the VIP section.

Her heart did something stupid in her chest. It always did when she saw him. He owned The Crimson Moon, owned half the underground clubs in Manhattan, if rumors were true, and he was absolutely, devastatingly gorgeous in a way that made Rachel forget how to form coherent sentences.

Tonight he wore all black. Expensive shirt rolled to his elbows, showing forearms that made her mouth go dry. Dark hair just long enough to run your fingers through. Sharp jawline. And those eyes, oh Gaud, even from across the room, even in the dim red lighting, they seemed to glow gold.

He was talking to