Claimed By Two Alphas

She tried to muster an internal smile, but she couldn't hide her sadness enough to match the happiness I felt. Feeling her grief for Rome again, my mood sank into something somber. We were free, but that freedom had cost my wolf more than I could ever repay.

"I can reject Cameron now if you want. I can forget about revenge, Cortina. I don't want to hurt Rome."

"Rome doesn't want to let his human off that easily. If you reject him, another poor she-wolf will be subjected to what you endured. As long as you are still tied together by the bond, and not within his reach, those other she-wolves will be safe."

"That's true, but he could just reject me first," I whispered, weaving through the busy streets and heading east.

"He won't," Cortina replied, her voice low and pensive. "He won't let you go."

"How do you know that? He could. He hated me. How else could he do that to me? To you?"

"If he was going to reject you, he would have done it after you got hurt," she reasoned. "I… I was there. I heard and felt him. He didn't act like he hated you. He acted obsessed."

"Hmm… I don't know about that, but I do know I don't want to hurt Rome either. I won't reject him yet, and we can wait to figure out if revenge is worth it later."

"Rome wanted revenge," she said brokenly.

That might be the case, but after that goodbye, I don't know if I can carry it through.

With no phone or map, I had to swallow my pride and ask a stranger for directions. A man in a polo shirt and khaki pants, carrying a backpack, seemed like my safest bet. I tried asking a sleek young woman first, maybe in her mid-twenties with perfect blonde hair and bright red lipstick, but she gave me a disgusted look and scoffed before walking away. The man, however, was much more approachable. He stopped, pulled out a legal pad from his bag, and wrote down directions I could follow. It was about two miles away, simple enough if I paid attention. He blushed when he asked why I was going to that particular hostel. I told him I was referred there, which only made his face turn redder. I thanked him and walked on, ignoring the curious way he watched me go.

It took an hour to reach the building, and it was nearly dark by the time I stood in front of it. The sign over the door said "Broom StiXXX."

Fuck.

It didn't look like a hostel at all. It looked like a damn strip club. No wonder that woman scoffed and the man blushed the way he did.

Hell, I told him I was referred here. He probably thinks I am about to work a pole.

Well, we are here now, and even if it is a strip club, it is better than that cursed packhouse or Red Moon Pack. I have no better options right now.

I pushed open the front door and was immediately greeted by the thumping bass of music vibrating through mounted speakers.

The room was dark except for neon strip lighting on the floor and spotlights focused on three main stages. Only the center stage had a performer. At first, I thought the dancer was a girl because of the dim lights and pulsing strobe across their pale skin. Then they arched their back against the pole, and I got a clear look at their flat chest. A man. A very pretty man, but still a man. Four or five customers sat close, cheering and tossing singles.

"You are looking all kinds of lost, sweetie."

The voice was low, rich, and velvety, startling me from the right. I jumped and turned to find a man leaning casually against the wall. He had a full beard but also a flawless face of makeup, complete with dramatic lashes.

"The FoXXX Tail is the next block over," he added with a sly smile.

"Nope." I grinned despite my nerves. "I was sent here."

The sharp scent of wolf hit me, and I was instantly relieved. At least I wasn't standing in some random human gay strip club.

"Sent here by who, honey? No matter what kind of surgeon you went to, there is no way those tits are fake. You are not in drag, so why would anyone send a tiny snack like you to our club? You don't suit our clientele's tastes, if you know what I mean."

"I get what you mean," I chuckled, fishing out the paper Driana had given me with the address and her name. "Driana sent me."

His smoky eyes widened, scanning the slip of paper, then flicked back up to me. He sniffed the air like he was trying to figure me out.

"I took a scent-blocking potion before I left.

I'm just like you," I said with a wink.

"Ahhh," a slow, amused grin spread across his painted lips. "Maybe you are in the right place, my dear. My apologies. We haven't had a vagina-bearing lady before. Follow me, and I'll take you to the one who can sort you out."

Vagina-bearing?

"I'm Cindy," he said with a flourish, holding out his hand as we walked past the bar.

"Chloe," I replied, giving him a firm handshake.

"Nice to meet you, Chloe. Welcome to Broom StiXXX. To the outside world, we are a back-alley strip joint catering to those who enjoy staring at a joystick on their nights of filthy fantasies. But to the were world," he continued as he pushed open a set of double doors behind the bar, passing a giggling bartender with bright pink hair and cat-like eyes, "we are a sanctuary for those cast out from their packs, clans, and tribes for whatever bullshit reasons their leaders conjured up."

The hallway opened to a well-lit foyer with an elevator on one side and a winding staircase on the other. Cindy chose the stairs.

"Dancing just now was Winnie. His real name is Winston, but he prefers Winnie. Riley, the bartender with pink hair, is mated to a werebear. Their tribes were rivals, and when they were discovered, both were nearly killed. Their story is like Romeo and Juliet but with a happily ever after ending. And this," Cindy stopped outside a wooden door on the second floor, "is Rodger's room. He is our manager, so to speak."

Cindy knocked three times, leaning back with a knowing look. A tall, lanky man with a goatee and long, dark hair opened the door, annoyance on his face.

"What? Did Winnie let his tail out again while he was—" He stopped mid-sentence when his eyes landed on me, then turned to Cindy.

"Who is this?"

"This," Cindy said with a dramatic gesture, placing his hands lightly on my shoulders, "is Chloe. Your sisters sent her."

Sisters? That man looks way too young to be related to those witches. He looks maybe mid-thirties, while they were easily late fifties or older.

"They sent you?" His voice was sharp with disbelief.

Cindy handed him the slip of paper with Driana's name. "It is your family's seal on this, is it not?"

Rodger studied the note, then glanced back at me. "It is. But this is the first time they have ever sent me a woman." He scratched the back of his head, then waved me inside. "Well, Chloe. Come in, and we will get this all figured out."