Samson stared assessingly at Ian across the room. "You don't like him," he said after a moment.
That was the understatement of the year. Cassidy took a deep breath and focused on calming her pulse. She'd forgotten how easily an alpha's sharp senses detected and interpreted every emotional cue.
"He's my peer," she said. "We don't have to like each other. We just need to work together."
Samson ignored her diplomatic words.
"You don't trust him," he went on, his expression hardening into a terrifying glower. He leaned in a little closer, seemingly taking up all the air around her. "Why are you afraid of him? Has he hurt you?"
"What? No." Without thinking, Cassidy reached out and wrapped her hand around Samson's wrist. She could feel the tension radiating out from him—the coiled strength of his muscles, the surge of his hot blood, the fury pulsing through his body. It was almost overwhelming. "Ian's just a garden-variety asshole. He thinks he's better than me, and he likes to make my life difficult."
Just like every other misogynistic bastard Cassidy had ever met.
Samson kept his eyes on Ian for another long moment before letting his gaze slowly drift down to his wrist…to the spot where Cassidy's hand still rested.
The moment she realized what she was doing, Cassidy snatched her hand away and bent her head toward the floor.
"Please accept my apology. I wasn't thinking," she said, her voice trembling. "I hope you enjoy your night, Mr. Turner."
Before she could make another mistake—or worse, spark a brawl—Cassidy turned and headed toward the bar.
Chapter Two
"You made it!"
Cassidy brightened at the joyful, feminine voice that greeted her from behind the bar. She turned to see Mia's smiling face beaming at her, and the tension faded from her body.
"I finally got permission," she confirmed. "Though I had to fight like hell for it."
Mia wiped her hands on a towel behind the rail and waddled over to meet Cassidy at the side entrance to the bar.
"Oh my God," Cassidy said, grinning at the sight of her friend's swollen belly. "You're getting so big."
Mia pretended to be offended. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to say that to a pregnant lady?"
"I thought those were the only ladies you could say it to," Cassidy joked, before giving the omega a long—and decidedly unprofessional—hug.
As soon as they pulled apart, Mia inclined her head in Ian's direction. "I see they sent you with a chaperone."
Cassidy shrugged. "The faculty is still certain that a woman can't be trusted on her own up here."
"So they sent that guy?" Mia raised her brows skeptically.
Cassidy turned to see what Ian was up to. Not surprisingly, he was leaning against a pool table, talking up one of the working girls while simultaneously looking down the neckline of her dress.
And she was the one who needed supervision?
"You're not the only one who doesn't like him," Cassidy said. "Samson didn't think much of him either."
Mia laughed. "So, that's why the floor rumbled."
Cassidy took a seat at the barstool at the end. "He seems unusually aggressive tonight. It must be the increased testosterone caused by the promise of so many willing sexual partners."
Mia lifted a single brow, smirking. "Is that what you think?"
"It's the most likely explanation."
Cassidy pulled her notepad out of her bag, the same one she'd been bringing to the Boundarylands since day one. All of her field notes were in that battered notebook, every bit of work she'd ever done, and it was almost full. She had to flip nearly all the way to the back to find an empty page.
"I asked around last week, and Zeke and Troy said they were willing to sit down with you and answer a couple of questions."
Cassidy scribbled the names down. She was familiar with one, but not the other.
"Only a couple?"
Mia shrugged. "It's the best I could do. Like you said, priorities shift on Friday nights. Everyone has something better to do."
"Of course."
That was okay. Cassidy would take what she could get, and paring down her interview sheet to only the essential questions shouldn't be too difficult. Maybe when she ran into Samson again, she could ask him to fill in a few of the blanks.
"I did get one of Nicky's girls to say she'd talk to you, as long as you kept it short," Mia said.
Cassidy nodded. It made sense—the woman was on the clock. "I don't know how many clients she usually sees per night, but please tell her I'm happy to compensate her for half an hour of her time."
Mia let out a huge laugh. "Oh, sweetie. I'd almost forgotten how it is with beta men. These girls won't be seeing multiple clients tonight. Each one will be with one alpha until nearly two o'clock in the morning."
Cassidy glanced down at her watch. It was barely nine o'clock.
"That's five hours from now."
Her amazement must have sounded in her voice because Mia laughed again.
"Oh, I'm well aware."
Well, that was…interesting.
Cassidy was about to ask how much time of that time would be spent in active intercourse when the front door opened and a cold blast of air whipped inside. She swiveled on her stool to see a group of women entering the bar—fifteen girls in all.
One for just about every alpha in the bar—Mia's mate Ty excepted, of course.
Mia flagged one of the women over.
"I'm Hannah," the woman introduced herself, shaking Cassidy's hand. She was pretty with bright eyes, red lips, and a full, curvy body.
"Can I get you a drink before we get started?" Cassidy offered.
While Mia poured Hannah a vodka tonic, Cassidy explained a little about herself and her research.
"Your answers will be very useful in helping us better understand intimate interactions between alphas and betas," she told her.
"You mean how they screw?"
"That's one part of it," Cassidy said evenly as Mia placed the drink in front of her "Why don't we go over to a table,
