Pawn: A WhyChoose Omegaverse

(West Coast Inkverse Book 1) London

Lennox & Cordelia Owens
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 Pawn

West Coast Inkverse

London Lennox

Heartstrings Press
Copyright © 2024 by London Lennox

Cover by Heartstrings Press

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
 Pawn

Omegas are pawns in an alpha's game. But she's about to remind the most powerful gang in Pacific City that the queen
is the most dangerous piece on the board.

In Pacific City, the world revolves around sin.

I'm just a footsoldier in the war over who controls Pacific City—my gang, the Angels, or our enemy, the Eclipse—when I meet
her.

Aisling Faye. A dancer at an Eclipse-owned club called Dreamland.

When she asks me to rescue her from the club and give her sanctuary with the Angels, I know it could put a gang war into
motion.

But I can't refuse her when her scent is so intoxicating.

And I'll bring down hell on Pacific City to make Aisling my queen.

Romeo and Juliet goes cyberpunk omegaverse in this slow build WhyChoose romance perfect for fans of Kathryn Moon and
Sarah Blue.
 Contents

Welcome to the Inkverse

Prologue
1. Aisling
2. Gunnar
3. Aisling
4. Gunnar
5. Aisling
6. Gunnar
7. Aisling
8. Gunnar
9. Aisling
10. Aisling
11. Gunnar
12. Aisling
13. Gunnar
14. Aisling
15. Gunnar
16. Aisling
17. Gunnar
18. Aisling
19. Gunnar
20. Aisling
21. Gunnar
22. Aisling
23. Gunnar
24. Aisling
Epilogue
Sneak Peek
More London Lennox Omegaverse
 Welcome to the Inkverse

This book is part of a series of interconnected omegaverse novels, each featuring their own kickass omega. The Inkverse is set
in a world where, roughly thirty years ago, a virus called The Great Mutation caused an apocalypse and divided humanity into
hypersexual groups of alphas, betas, and omegas—and where they use tattoos to mark their mates.

The Solstice Bay Inkverse follows a revolution against the cruel Alpha Control Bureau in Solstice Bay (former New York).
This is a complete trilogy that tells the story through three different omegas' stories—Olivia, Jade, and Kendra, all daughters of
ACB leaders. The series should be read in order.

The West Coast Inkverse tells the story of Aisling "Star" Faye in a slow-build whychoose epic. Get to know Aisling and her
pack, the Angels, in the neon streets of Pacific City (former Los Angeles), and please note that this series should be read in
order!

And make sure to check out my Inkverse Standalones, which can be read in any order!

PACK POLITICS – a peek into the life of the first omega senator in Solstice Bay.

KNOTTY OR NICE – an omega's escape to an omegas-only ski resort where they can ride out their heat in
comfort and pleasure.

Dive in with any of my first books in series or standalones…and I hope you love my take on omegaverse!
 Prologue

I ONLY HAVE ONE single, shining memory from my life before Dreamland.
A chessboard…and a teacher.

She leans over the board, long grey curls spilling over her shoulders, and she looks down at the predicament I've put her in. I
know I've almost got her, that my pieces are all in place.

"Check," I whisper.

"Hmm...you've almost got my king, haven't you?" she says.

I give her a satisfied smile. "Sure have."

"But you forgot about the queen, Aisling."

Her deft hand moves across the board, pulling her queen out of danger and using it to knock down one of my knights. I can do
nothing but watch as she takes control of the board using the queen alone, her eyes--clear blue eyes that look an awful lot like
mine--flickering up to smirk at me.

"Sometimes, it's best to let the queen lurk at the fringes of the board," she says. "Use your other pieces to do a lot of the grunt
work--let the queen strike. And never forget that she's the most powerful piece in the game."

"Why wouldn't you just target her, then?" I ask, frowning. "If you took out the queen..."

"That's always the question, isn't it?" my teacher says. "And the answer is to use the rest of the army as a shield...because she is
your greatest asset."

"It applies in real life too, my little star," another woman says. I don't see her, but I feel her arms around me, and I know
intuitively that she, too, looks like me. "Never forget that."

And I didn't.

Not even after the wreck.

Not after the ocean, the beach, coughing up saltwater and waking up on the neon streets of Pacific City.

There are things a queen doesn't forget.

And most important is how to play the game.
 Chapter One

Aisling

D REAMLAND IS PULSING WITH the lifeblood of Pacific City.

This is where I live--in the place where alphas and betas trade drugs and sex, at the heart of Echo Beach. This is our tower in
the clouds, my stage...a sick, twisted perversion of a kingdom.

This is my prison.

A seedy club they've decked out to look like heaven.

The stage is lit in blue and pink neon light as I take the stage, walking out on holographic seven-inch heels, reaching out to take
the pole in my hand.

Because in this place where the city's heart beats, I drive the pulse. Me and the other omegas, princesses locked away.

I can only forget myself when I'm dancing, my fingers locked around the cool steel of the pole, my knee hooked around to twirl
like a ballerina in a music box. My hair whirls in a pastel fan of lavender strands, my skimpy dress glittering.

The dress comes off, revealing shimmering white lingerie.

The alphas in the crowd simmer.

I can feel their eyes on me, tracing the curves of my body as I move. They ache for me, just as I ache for the freedom that lies
beyond this stage. But I have to push those thoughts aside, have to focus on the dance, on the beat, on the pulse.

The music shifts, becoming slower, more sensual. I sway my hips to the rhythm, running my hands over my body the way these
men want to. The alphas groan in response, their eyes dark with lust.

The song ends and I wave goodbye to my adoring fans, blowing a kiss. The moment is over; real life sets back in.

Because backstage, beyond the pounding music and neon lights, a girl is screaming.

"Star, help!"

My footsteps echo on the cement floor backstage as I race forward in those same seven-inch heels, my arms pumping to keep
my balance as I run. I catch sight of the girls a second later--everyone who wasn't onstage trying to wrestle one of our
bodyguards off a prone form curled into a ball on the floor. She's wearing nothing but a set of black lingerie, dark hair covering
her face, and her voice...
All she's doing is whimpering, her voice coming in harsh gasps.

She's not the one screaming anymore.

No, that's Ruby, trying desperately to drag the bodyguard off of her.

"Get off of her!" Ruby shouts. "Star, please--please, you have to do something!"

"Get away from her, you fucking asshole!" I scream, striding forward. I pull my hand back, and before I know it, a loud smack
echoes around the dressing room.

He finally stops.

Staggers back.

Of course it's fucking Diesel.

He scowls, his lips twisting into a smirk as he catches sight of me. His lip is split where I hit him, and he reaches up to dab at
the blood, snickering.

"Fuck...boss is gonna lock you in the hole for that," he says.

"Not when he finds out you've damaged the product," I say, matching his glare. "If you keep beating the shit out of the dancers,
you're going to cost more than you're worth...and then who will be in the hole?"

We stay like that for a moment, locked in a cold war. Diesel's new to the operation, and he knows that I might just be an omega,
but I'm the most senior dancer here at Dreamland, and I know the owner cares more about the product than he does about grant
special privileges to good-for-nothing alpha bouncers. Diesel's the worst of the worst, and I've got my eye on him.

I'd like to get rid of him altogether...but I don't have that kind of power.

"Get the hell out of here before I rat on you to Eddy," I snap.

Diesel snarls and stalks away, and I watch him walk all the way down the hall before I shut the dressing room door and lock it
behind him. Eddy's the only one who has a key, and I know he'll be pissed at Diesel for doing this.

You can't sell a girl to the highest bidder when she's covered in bruises.

Ruby and two other dancers, Joy and Iris, are kneeling beside Lark--the target of Diesel's attack. I step in just as the try to help
her up, stopping them when she cries out.

"Don't move her," I say. "If anything's broken, we need to be careful, okay?"

"She's fucking broken," Iris mutters.

I ignore her, stepping forward to crouch beside Lark. She flinches away as I reach for her, one eye cracked open to stare at us.
She's in a lot of pain, and it kills me to see it. Her lip is torn open and blood is streaming from it, and there's a bruise forming
on her cheek.

"Lark, I am so sorry," I whisper, gently pushing her dark hair out of her face.
"It's...it's okay, Star," Lark says weakly. "I'm fine. It's okay."

"It's not," I say. "He shouldn't have done that to you."

I look over at the other girls, unable to keep the rage off my face.

"What the hell happened?" I say, looking up at Ruby's tearstained face. She's shaking, but her eyes are blazing.

"I don't know," she says.

"He...he grabbed her and threw her on the floor," Iris adds. "He just started kicking her..."

"She's lucky she's alive," Ruby breathes.

"She's lucky you all intervened," I say. "As long as that motherfucker is around, we need to watch each other's backs.

I look back at Lark. "Do you think you can stand? If I can get you to my room, I have some first aid supplies stashed away."

Lark nods, biting her lip as she attempts to stand. Ruby and I each grab a hand and help her to her feet, and together we walk
down the narrow halls that lead to our bunks.

This is where the glitz and glamor of Dreamland disappears--where the neon lights don't reach, where all we can see is the
sprawling city through one window and the endless, polluted ocean through the other. The walls are crumbling here, the doors
splintered where the bouncers used to kick their way through before we started standing up for ourselves. Glitter is ground into
the floor, but it's lost its sheen after years of overuse and being stepped on.

Just like us.

When we get to my room, Lark sits on the edge of my bed, her body tense with pain. I'm rushing around the room, gathering
supplies, and Ruby is pacing in front of my door, looking like she might erupt into tears at any second.

"You can't dance tonight," I say, my hand cutting the air between us. "You have to listen to me; you can't go out there again until
you're healed. We'll tell Eddy something--that you were sick. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that you need time to heal."

"I'm fine," Lark insists. "I'll just cover it with makeup..."

"You're not fine," I snap. "If you broke anything, dancing will just make it worse."

I look up at Ruby, who has to be thinking the same thing I am.

"We have to tell Eddy," Ruby whispers.

"Don't," Lark says.

"I'll take the heat," I murmur, standing up. "If we watch each other's backs, that asshole Diesel can't touch us."

"But what if..."

"No what if's," I say. "We have to stick together and take care of each other. It's the only way to survive Dreamland...all the
girls who came before know that."
Lark reaches out to stop me, but she winces and falls back to the pillows. Ruby goes right to her, and I move past the other girl,
finding Iris and Joy on the other side of the door.

"I'm talking to Eddy," I say. "You all stay here...and if you need it, there's a knife under the mattress."

Iris' eyes widen.

"We're getting rid of Diesel," I mutter.

I turn right and walk the rest of the way past the bunks, then I make my way into the stairwell. There's always a guard here, and
I brace myself to make an excuse--

--but I find my greatest ally at the club.

Oberon, an Eclipse enforcer, is standing with his hands clasped in front of him. He's a huge man, a disciplined alpha covered
in tattoos, an eclipsed sun inked on his neck to show his allegiance. I stop in my tracks and look up at him, meeting his green
eyes, and he frowns as he looks down at me.

"Star...I thought you were supposed to be onstage," he says.

"I just finished my first number," I say, my jaw tense. "I need to talk to Eddy."

"Asking for a favor?" he asks.

"Taking out the trash," I mutter, pitching my voice low. "Oberon, I don't want you implicated too..."

He reaches out to grasp my shoulder. "Who was it?"

"Diesel," I mutter. "He beat the hell out of Lark. She can't dance tonight."

Oberon's gaze hardens.

"I'll take care of it," he says.

"I need to handle this myself," I say.

He tilts his head up the stairs.

"Then we go together."

We climb the stairs up to Eddy's office, my feet starting to ache in my heels. They weren't made for this--they're just for
dancing, for flying. I suddenly feel ridiculous wearing this shimmery silver teddy, especially as Oberon's eyes continue to look
toward me.

He flushes when I notice.

"You can look," I say with a wry smile. "Everyone else does."

He chuckles. "I ain't like that, Star."

"I know," I say. "That's why you're allowed."

When we reach Eddy's office, I knock on the door and wait for his response. I don't hear anything, so I knock again, and his
muffled voice reaches us.

"Fuck off!" he shouts. "I'm busy!"

"Eddy," Oberon snaps, knocking on his door again. "We need to see you."

There's some rustling, and then Eddy's face appears in the doorway. The beta is an older guy--probably about fifty, if I had to
hazard a guess--and he's not so much the owner of Dreamland as he is the caretaker...which he's pretty fucking bad at. His eyes
are bloodshot, his chin covered in stubble. He looks like shit, and when he sees me standing beside Oberon he frowns.

"I don't pay you to bother me," Eddy snaps. "Did Stargazer here get into trouble again?"

"Diesel attacked Lark. He needs to be expelled from the club or else you won't have a club left to run."

"The hell I won't," Eddy mutters.

"Eddy, I've seen him rough up the other girls, too," Oberon says.

"And your customers don't pay for bruised girls," I say.

Eddy scowls, but then I hear a voice from behind him, along with a chair scuffing on the floor. "Did I just hear that one of your
guys beat up a dancer?"

I stumble back at the wave of pheromones that washes out of the office, a tall and slender alpha in a fancy suit walking toward
us. Eddy flinches. "I'll handle it, Mr. Rossi--"

Rossi? Shit...that's the head of the Eclipse--the most important man in Echo Beach, and one of the most powerful players in
Pacific City.

"What's his name?" Mr. Rossi asks me.

Oberon goes quiet, his hands clasped behind his back. I feel all three men's eyes on me, and I swallow hard.

"Diesel," I murmur. "I don't know his last name."

"And yours?" Rossi asks Oberon.

"Vega," Oberon says. "Oberon Vega."

"Alright, Oberon..." Rossi says. "I think we have some work to do. Eddy, I our business here is done--and how about you give
this sweet girl the rest of the night off for being a good samaritan?"

"But she's our best dancer--" Eddy starts.

"Then I'll have to come back to visit sometime," Rossi interrupts. "For a dance and to check up on you."

Eddy blanches, cowed by the more powerful man. "Fine."

Rossi's smile is like a razor. "Excellent. You're free to go."

I nod, slipping past the other two men. My heart is thundering in my chest as I walk, but I can't look back. I can't look back
because I might see my future in the eyes of the most powerful man in Echo Beach.

I slip down the stairs and back into my room, sitting down on the edge of my bed with a sigh.

"What happened?" Ruby asks.

"It's taken care of," I mutter. "You can rest easy, Lark...we're all going to be safe."

But as the night goes on and the music continues to pound downstairs at Dreamland, I have a suspicion that we're not safe at all.

And that my problems are only beginning.

 Chapter Two

Gunnar

T HEY'RE BEATING SOME SORRY fuck to death outside Dreamland.

It's none of my business, of course. Echo Beach isn't Angels turf, and Dreamland is an Eclipse club. If I were to intervene, it
would only cause problems for me and my friends, and that's not why we're here.

No...we're here to move product, and I'm just here as muscle.

But that doesn't mean I like it.

We pass the alley where they're taking care of business on our way into the club, the guy's pleas for mercy turning into a thick,
bloody gurgle as we get into line. There's a single muscular dude doing most of the beating, and a man in a suit watches with a
cigarette between his lips. The man in the suit looks up and meets my eyes, and he flashes me a devilish grin before the bouncer
steps in our way.

"You on the list?"

Our pusher--a guy named Rook that I consider one of my closest friends in the Angels--gives the bouncer a congenial grin.

"Your boss is expecting us," he says in that Irish accent that always manages to charm people into emptying their wallets for
him. "Last name Rainier. My guests here are Finch and Petrov."

The bouncer peers down at his tablet, frowning. I'm sure he's noticed our tattoos--the angel wings over our pulse point, the
mark of our gang, our family. "Rainier..."

Rook leans in, producing a hundred dollar bill between his fingers like magic. "You let us in, I'll give you a discount on some
new shit that just came in from New Atlantis. This is just to sweeten the deal."

The bouncer grunts and takes the cash, then lifts the black velvet rope.

"Welcome to Dreamland," he says.

We step past the rope and in through the open door, which reveals a simple corridor to a silver elevator. Dreamland is named
as such partially because of its location--up in the clouds, or at least above the dirty streets of Pacific City. The three of us get
into the elevator and the doors slide shut, Luka glancing up at the security camera before locking eyes with us, his voice quiet.

"Did you see that?" he asks.

"See what?" Rook says.

"The guy getting his teeth kicked out in that alley?" I suggest.

"Exactly," Luka says. "The guy in the suit...that was Nero Rossi. You didn't notice?"

Rook gapes at him as I suck in a surprised breath. "You're kidding me."

"Would I joke about that?" Luka says. "I'd know him anywhere. Seems like we arrived on an auspicious evening."

"What do you think he's doing here?"

Luka shrugs. "Who knows? Although, if we know what's good for us...we won't bother trying to find out."

The door slides open and, all of a sudden, we're consumed by the sparkling lights of Dreamland. I squint in the glare of pink
and blue neon, the pounding music overwhelming my senses, light glancing off shiny silver poles around the room. The
furniture is white--though this place is seedy as fuck, so I'm not sure how they keep it so pristine--and the walls display floating
clouds on LED screens.

We've been in before, and I find myself searching the stages for my favorite dancer. I've never had the courage to talk to her, but
I find her every time I'm here, and I always make sure to tip. Luka tells me the girls don't get to keep it, that they're basically
prisoners here in Dreamland, but I do what I can to help.

Which, to be fair, isn't much.

If we did anything to get these omegas out of here, it could trigger an all-out war between the Eclipse and the Angels. Our boss,
Vance Solace, would have my head on a fucking platter.

I don't see her anywhere, and I try to hide my disappointment. Rook is already scanning the crowd for potential buyers, but
Luka--ever observant--nudges me.

"She's not here, huh?"

"Who?"

He snorts. "That dancer you like. The one with the purple hair."

I feel my cheeks flush, and I can't help but glance around the club one more time just in case. "No, I guess not."

"Well, don't worry about her," Luka says. "We need to stay on task. Like...did you see the sketchy guys over by the back exit?"

He gestures toward them and I tense my jaw. "Bouncers?"

"Don't think so," he says. "Look for tattoos, newbie. In this city, that's rule number one."

"Okay..." I trail off, looking for the symbols I'm familiar with--a blacked out sun, or a set of angel wings. I only just got my own
wings a few weeks ago, and clearly I still have a lot to learn.

"No tattoos," I say.

"Right," Luka confirms. "Which means they're not Eclipse or Angels. Probably just bottom feeders looking to score."
"Isn't that who we're looking for?"

Rook interrupts, reminding me he's always listening. "No, because we don't want them to know I'm carrying an ounce of Glitter
in my pocket."

"So who's our target?" I ask.

Rook grins. "Rich people. Big spenders. Look for the tippers, newbie."

We nod, splitting up to scan the club for potential buyers. The music pounds through my body, making it hard to think, but I push
through it. I'm not the best at this game, but I know how to spot someone with money to burn.

I make my way to the bar, scanning the patrons as I go. There are a few people sitting alone, nursing their drinks, but no one
catches my eye.

That is, until I spot her.

The girl behind the bar.

The dancer with the purple hair.

I know I shouldn't get distracted, but she locks eyes with me and her cherry red lips part. She's got silver glitter painted on her
eyes and cheeks, a sparkly white robe draped over her shoulders. I can see the barest hint of white lace underneath it, and my
cock twitches at the mere thought of being with her.

Of claiming her, marking her, knotting her.

At the barest touch a few weeks ago, I knew she was an omega...but tonight, she smells especially delicious.

I slide to a seat at the bar, unable to resist the temptation, and she sidles over and leans her elbows on the bartop. "Hey,
stranger."

Odd how she says it--the words are true, but they're spoken like we're old friends.

"I've never seen you tend bar before," I murmur.

She gives me a lazy half-smile. "I have the night off. And I didn't realize you'd noticed. If I'm remembering correctly, I don't
even know your name...and I'm good with names."

The way she says it makes me feel like...fuck, like her lips are on me. I shudder slightly as she leans ever closer, her knuckles
grazing mine. "It's Gunnar," I say. "Gunnar Finch."

Her eyes dart to my tattoo. "You're not Eclipse. What the hell is an Angel like you doing here?"

"I have business here."

"The kind you can't talk about?"

I laugh. "You could say that."

Her lips quirk up into a knowing smile. "I won't press. So, what can I get for you, Gunnar Finch?"

"Water," I say, feeling a little embarrassed. "I'm on duty tonight."

She nods and pours me a glass, her fingers brushing mine again as she does. "Anything else I can do for you?"

I know what she's offering, subtly. And fuck, it's tempting. But I can't afford to get sidetracked. Maybe once the night is offer,
when we've offloaded all our product and I've got a pocket full of cash...then I might take her up on what she has to offer.

I take a sip of water to clear my head. "Actually, do you know if anyone here is looking to buy some Glitter?"

Fuck, I'm a dumbass. Rook and Luka would kill me if they knew I was airing our dirty laundry like this. But something about
her just feels right--like I can trust her.

She raises an eyebrow. "You're not a dealer, are you?"

I shake my head. "No, not me. But my associate is. And we figured there might be a market here."

She leans in closer, her voice low. "I might know someone. But you didn't hear it from me."

I nod, grateful for the lead. "I appreciate it. Can you give me any more information?"

She glances around the club before leaning in even closer, her breath hot against my ear. "There's a private room upstairs. Only
the big spenders get in."

"Okay...yeah, I know it," I say. I've only been up there once, but I want so badly to impress her that I try to make it seem like I'm
there all the time. "If you go up there and look for a guy named Victor, he might be interested. He bought the company of three
girls tonight and I wouldn't be surprised if they all could go for some Glitter."

"Thanks," I say, feeling a surge of adrenaline. "I owe you one."

She winks at me, then tilts her head. She's got a whole bottle of vodka in her hand, and I wonder if she's taking a little party of
her own elsewhere.

"Well, I've gotta run," she says. "But it was nice to finally meet you for real, Gunnar Finch."

"And you," I say with a goofy smile. "But--wait a second!"

She pauses.

"What's your name?" I ask.

She bites her lip. "Around here, they call me Stargazer," she says. "But before I came to Dreamland, I was Aisling."

"Aisling," I repeat, her name like a song on my lips. "It's...really fucking nice to meet you, Aisling."

She puts her finger to her lips. "Keep it hush hush," she says. "See you around."

I watch as she saunters off, her hips swaying with every step. Damn, she's sexy as hell. And the way she carries
herself...confident, but with a hint of vulnerability. It's intoxicating.
But I can't get sidetracked. I need to find Rook and Luka and let them know what I've found out.

I make my way back through the club, scanning the patrons for any sign of my associates. I find them a moment later, Luka
keeping watch while Rook makes a deal in a shady corner.

"Hey, newbie," Luka says. "What's up?"

I glance over at the stairs Aisling pointed out. "Apparently there's a party going on in the VIP room upstairs," I say. "If we can
get up there, we should be able to move a ton of product."

"And how'd you find that out?" Luka asks.

I'm sure he saw who I was talking to--I'm certain he knows exactly what I did. But I just shrug my shoulders and shake my head.

"Overheard someone talking about it," I lie. "Felt like a lead."

I should tell them what I've been up to.

I should tell them about Aisling.

But I love the idea of her being my dirty little secret...and next time I find myself at Dreamland, I remind myself to come alone.
 Chapter Three

Aisling

I CAN'T SEEM TO settle today.

My hands tremble as I pick up my new nail polish, a soft shade of pink that barely stands out against my pale skin. It's been less
than twenty-four hours since I reported Diesel, and Oberon took care of him--brutally, on a mafia prince's orders. I didn't see
him in action, but I know for a fact that Diesel hasn't been seen all day...and that Oberon spent the night washing blood from his
skin.

Just thinking about it sends shivers down my spine.

Partially because I'm still scared...and partially because this could be an opportunity.

Footsteps sound in the hall, and I look up to find Oberon standing at the threshold. He pokes his head around the corner and
knocks gently against the frame.

"Knock knock."

"Come on in," I smile.

He glances down at my small bed, where I've spread out the supplies for a manicure. "I don't want to interrupt..."

"You're not interrupting anything," I say. "I was just touching up my nails. You're more than welcome."

Oberon doesn't come all the way inside; he keeps his distance, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. His dark
eyes take in every detail of me, from my freshly painted nails to my subtly parted lips. "I told you I would take care of your
problem," he says.

I flash him a forced smile, trying to play it cool. "I heard you had something to do with that," she says. "So...he's gone."

"Eddy may not give a damn about you girls, but some of us do--including Nero Rossi, apparently," Oberon says. "So...yeah.
He's gone."

"Gone gone?"

Oberon chuckles and shifts on his feet. "Would that bother you?"

I think back to watching Diesel lay into Lark last night--seeing how he beat the hell out of her, how he's harassed other
dancers...
"No," I reply. "I don't think I would."

I can feel the weight of his gaze, heavy like chains wrapped around me. I don't want to be here; I understand that Oberon is part
of the problem, that he's basically my captor. But there's something in his eyes, something almost tender beneath the possessive,
violent gleam.

If I can play this right, maybe, just maybe, we could have a chance at escaping this hell called Dreamland.

"Well...thank you," I say. "I appreciate you always having our backs."

"Your back," he says. "I mean, it's not a secret, is it? You're important to me."

I bite my lip. "I noticed."

"Good," he replies, his voice low and intense. "You're special to me, Star. You know that, right?"

"Of course," I say softly, trying not to let the fear in my heart seep into my voice. I know what he wants to hear–that I care for
him too, that we could be something. Truthfully, I don't know if I can ever trust him completely.

And yet, Oberon might be my best chance to survive, to escape the crushing grip of Dreamland.

To live a life where I'm more than just a pawn in someone else's game.

For now, though, I'll paint my nails and smile at Oberon as we flirt and dance around each other like moths drawn to a flame.

As I finish painting the last nail, Oberon's gaze lingers on me. "Can I help you with something else?" I ask. "I mean...don't get
my wrong, I appreciate your help--but I need to get ready for tonight--"

"Who was that guy last night?"

I narrow my eyes and frown up at him, shaking my head. "What guy?"

"The guy at the bar," he says. "The one you were flirting with."

"I flirt with everyone," I say. "It's my job."

"Star," he starts, his voice tight with an emotion I can't quite place. "I saw you talking to that Angel fuck at the bar last night."

"Okay...I talked to a lot of people at the bar," I reply, trying to maintain a nonchalant tone even though I know exactly who he's
talking about. The cute guy who I tipped off to the big spenders upstairs--the one with the wings tattooed over his pulse.

"But he's an Angel."

"And last I checked, Angels were allowed in the club, right?" I say. "Their dollar goes just as far."

Oberon growls under his breath, shaking his head. His scent suddenly hits me hard, fucking with my omega instincts. There's a
tacit command in the tone of his voice, in his scent...

Obey me, omega.

"Who is he to you?" Oberon demands, jealousy flaring in his eyes. My breath catches as I realize just how dangerous this
conversation could be.

"Nobody important," I say quickly, keeping my expression composed. "Just another customer."

"Good," he growls, his hand clenching into a fist. "Because I've killed for you, Star. And I'd do it again."

My heart skips a beat at that admission. The weight of his words threatens to suffocate me. But I know better than to show fear–
weakness will only make things worse.

"Oberon," I say softly, turning to face him fully. "I appreciate everything you've done for me. You're special to me, too."

His dark eyes search mine, and for a moment, I think he sees through my facade. But then he smiles, a predatory grin that sends
a shiver down my spine. "Glad to hear it, Star."

"Tell me something," I venture, trying to plant the seed for our escape. "Do you ever dream about leaving Pacific City? Going
somewhere far away from all this?"

"Sometimes," he admits, his gaze distant. "But it's not easy, you know. We're both tangled up in this mess."

"Maybe one day," I murmur, hope catching in my throat. "Maybe one day we could leave it all behind."

"Maybe," Oberon echoes, his eyes locking onto mine again. But as much as I want to believe there's a chance for us to escape
this nightmare, the uncertainty in his voice gnaws at my insides.

For now, all I can do is cling to that sliver of hope, like a dying ember in the dark. And pray that somehow, against all odds,
we'll break free from the chains that bind us.
 Chapter Four

Gunnar

I 'VE GOT TO GET back to Dreamland.

Not because I'm horny...although, fuck, I am horny. Nah...it's just because I'm eager to see that gorgeous girl again. Because she
made me a promise, and I need to go back alone.

She's probably using me, but I don't think I'd mind being used by a girl like that.

We sit in the attic of an old church in Celestial Hills, where Luka calls home. His blonde hair falls into his face, tattooed
fingers moving quickly as he sorts out cash from last night's score. Rook is standing by the window, smoking a cigarette, and he
glances over as we keep parsing through the cash.

"Everything looks good?" he says.

I snort. "Looks like money."

"The boss'll be pleased," Rook says, snubbing out his cigarette on the windowsill and tossing it out to the street below. He
comes over with his hands in his pockets, his brow furrowed as he looks down at the table covered in green bills. "That was a
good tip you got last night, newbie."

Luka cocks his head. "Still not sure how you got it, but..."

"Like I said," I mutter. "I overheard some folks talking about it at the bar."

Rook chuckles. "I wouldn't recommend lying to Luka," he says. "He's got a knack for sussing out a liar...and you don't want to
be a liar."

Luka leans back slightly and steeples his fingers while I keep working...and I slowly stop, looking up at the two of them.

"What?"

"Well?" Luka says. "Out with it. You got a tip."

I frown. "I did."

"From who?"

I shrug. "From the pretty girl at the bar."

"Your favorite," Luka chuckles.

"That's the one."

"Can't trust a stripper, newbie..." Rook warns.

"Why not?" I ask. "She offered the info without any catch."

"There's always a catch," Rook says, resting his hands on the table and leaning close. "Those girls at Dreamland--they're
prisoners. It'll take all of a few days or weeks for her to wheedle her way into your heart...and then next thing you know, she's
gonna be asking you to help her get out, to buy her off Nero Rossi. You think you can afford that?"

I glance down at the table. "Maybe."

Luka's fist suddenly slams down on top of the cash, and I startle, jumping back. "I catch you talking about Vance Solace's money
that way again, and you'll be in deep shit."

I swallow hard, the weight of Luka's anger pressing down on me. "I...I'm sorry," I stammer, my voice barely a whisper.

Luka's blue eyes bore into mine, his gaze intense and unforgiving. "Vance Solace is the most powerful man in Celestial Hills,
and we owe him. We owe him big." His voice is low, a dangerous rumble that sends shivers down my spine. "You don't
understand the lengths he'll go to protect what's his."

Rook takes a step closer, a stern expression on his face. "Listen, kid, we've all seen what happens to those who cross the boss.
People go missing, never to be seen again. Remember that guy getting his teeth kicked in last night outside Dreamland? That
could be you if you fuck him over."

My heart races as I try to comprehend the gravity of the situation. The allure of Dreamland and the promise of that dancer have
clouded my judgment.

But now, standing in this dusty attic, with Luka and Rook in front of me and a locked door at my back...?

I'm a little less confident.

Not that that stops me from going back to Dreamland that night.

Yeah--I take my cut of the cash from our deals last night, and I head right back to Dreamland like a dog on a leash. This time,
there's no Rook with me, and it occurs to me as I get to the front of the line that I might not be able to get in.

Only to discover that somebody put me on the list.

It had to be her, right?

Aisling.

I head inside, walking down the narrow corridor and then into the elevator, swallowing hard and hearing my pulse in my throat
as the doors slide open. Neon lights blind me as the pulsating music envelops me. The air is heavy with the mingled scents of
sweat, alcohol, desire.

My eyes scan the crowd, searching for a familiar face amidst the sea of bodies writhing to the beat.
I don't see her.

Wherever she is, she ain't here--and alone tonight, I settle into an awkward seat at one of the tables near the main stage. The
scent of omegas in heat nearly overwhelms me, makes me want to take out my wallet and give these girls everything I own. I
know it's artificial--that it's a ploy by the owner to pump pheromones into the air--but I don't give a shit.

Luka and Rook may have been right, but desire is a powerful drug.

As the music pounds through my veins, I let myself get lost in the atmosphere. The dancers on stage move with a hypnotic
grace, their bodies glistening under the neon lights. It's hard not to be captivated by their sensuality, their raw power.

But my eyes keep searching, yearning for a glimpse of Aisling.

She's the only one I want.

Just as I begin to lose hope, a figure emerges from the shadows, moving towards me with an enticing sway of her hips. She's
wearing a glittering silver pair of shorts, a scrap of gauzy material covering her breasts. I can see her brown nipples through
the top, and I can't stop my jaw from dropping.

Aisling's eyes lock onto mine, a mischievous glint dancing within them. She wears a seductive smile, her lips painted a deep
shade of plum that begs to be tasted.

"Didn't expect to see you here all alone," she purrs, sliding into the seat next to mine. I can feel the heat radiating off her body
as she leans closer, her breath warm against my ear. "You missed me, didn't you?"

I try to play it cool, but the desire is intense. I feel like I'm living in a dream--like Dreamland is just that, like the clouds are
real, the lights moonbeams. And Aisling...she's a creature of raw lust, a wet dream made real.

I lean in.

"You aren't trying to use me, are you?"

She bites her lip. "I don't know, Gunnar Finch...you seem like the kind of man who might like to be used."

I chuckle, my voice laced with anticipation and desire. "Well, I guess you'll just have to find out, won't you?"

Aisling's eyes darken with a mix of mischief and hunger. Her hand drifts casually across my thigh, sending shivers of pleasure
up my spine.

"Oh, I intend to," she whispers seductively, her gaze locking onto mine.

The music fades into the background as we become immersed in our own erotic dance, the heat between us intensifying with
every passing moment. The electricity in the air crackles with anticipation as Aisling leans in closer, her lips mere inches from
mine.

"Do you want a drink, Gunnar?" she asks.

"Yes," I growl.

I would say yes to anything she asked me right now.

She takes my hand and stands up, and I follow her through the crowd of writhing bodies, horny guests, gorgeous dancers. She
brings me to the very corner of the bar, right next to the door to the private rooms, and she rounds the bar to pour me a drink.

"Tequila?" she asks.

It's a bad idea. I'm here alone, on enemy turf, without the backup of more experienced Angels. And this girl...Rook and Luka
are right; she wants something from me.

But I don't give a shit because I'm a fucking idiot.

"Yeah," I say.

She passes me a shot glass full of clear liquid, and I shoot it fast. It burns as it goes down--and when I open my eyes and look
at her again, the damn lime is between her fingers, inches from her mouth.

"Chaser?" she asks.

I nod.

She puts the lime between her teeth, leaning over the bar.

This feels like it's against the club's rules--I could literally get killed tonight--but I go in for the kiss anyway.

As our lips meet, the world around us fades away. The taste of tequila lingers on Aisling's tongue, intertwining with the
sweetness of the lime. Our connection is charged with lust, fueled by the dangerous allure of Dreamland and the forbidden
desires that consume us both.

Aisling pulls away, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes, as she releases the lime from her teeth and places it on the edge of my
lips. "Your turn," she whispers.

I take the hint and lean closer, capturing the lime between my teeth. Our lips brush against each other once more, tantalizing and
fiery. The intensity of the moment sends a surge of desire coursing through my veins, overpowering any sense of caution that
remains.

With a sly smile, Aisling drags her fingers along my jawline. "Come," she murmurs, her voice dripping with temptation. "Let's
find somewhere more private."

My heart races as she leads me through the door to the private rooms. The air in the secluded hallway is heavy with
anticipation, almost suffocating. Aisling's fingers graze against mine, sending electric shocks through my body.

She stops in front of a door at the end of the hallway, her eyes locked with mine. Her voice drops to a whisper, barely audible
over the thumping bass from outside.

"Are you sure about this?" she asks, her voice laced with a dangerous allure.

I hesitate for a moment, my mind swirling with uncertainty. I remember Rook's warning and Luka's cautionary tale of those who
crossed the boss. It's as if their voices echo in my head, urging me to turn away.

But the adrenaline rushing through my veins--and Aisling's scent--drowns out any rational thoughts.
"I uh...I don't have any money," I stammer. "I mean, I've got...I've got some, but not enough to afford this."

"This isn't about money, Gunnar," she whispers. "So, are you ready or what?"

I nod, my resolve firming.

"I'm ready," I say.

It doesn't occur to me to ask what she meant until she's opening the door and ushering me through into a small room lit entirely
in red with a plush velvet couch at the back. She pulls me in and pushes me back onto the seat, where I land with a thud and
gaze up at her.

Fuck me...I'm totally smitten.

I'm such an idiot, and my cock is still straining against my jeans, eager to get even a taste of her.

"How about a dance?" she whispers, the music still thudding from outside.

I can't say anything--my mouth just ain't moving--as she hooks her thumbs in her shorts and tugs them down her thighs, beginning
to sway her hips. She's wearing a lacy blue thong underneath, her chunky, sparkly heels making it look like she has legs for
days, and she turns and looks over her shoulder at me, biting her lip.

I don't know how I got so lucky.

I'm so fucking hard, my knot swollen like I'm getting that kind of action tonight.

Her body moves in fluid, perfect motion, then she comes closer and sits in my lap. To my surprise, she breaks yet another rule
and puts her hands on mine to splay my palms over her hips, and I groan as my fingertips press into her soft skin.

She spreads her legs and grinds against my engorged cock through our clothes.

Fuuuck, I'm gonna blow my load right here and now if she keeps this up.

But before things get too intense, she stands, tosses her hair--and I can't resist the low growl that slips past my lips when she
faces me and straddles me, her lips close to my ear.

"Do you want me, Gunnar?" she breathes.

"Fuck yes," I mutter.

"I'll be yours...if you get me out of here," she purrs.

I jerk back slightly, startled. Okay...yeah, this ain't quite right. "What?" I start, but she covers my mouth with a kiss.

I groan, forget how big of a mistake this is.

"Do you believe in fate?" she whispers against my lips. "Because I do. I've known I was supposed to be yours since the second
you stepped foot in this club last night."

She works her hips against me, my brow furrowing as I hold back an orgasm. Her body moves in perfect sync with the music,
her hips rotating against my throbbing erection. I can feel her wetness seeping through the thin fabric of her panties, and my
desire for her only grows stronger.

"Yes," I whisper between kisses. "I believe in fate."

Aisling smiles, her eyes shining with desire. "Then let's make a deal, Gunnar. If you get me out of here, I'll be yours."

I nod, though I can't say yes to that. I want to, fuck, I want to...but I'm just a grunt in our operation, and she belongs to our
biggest rival.

Her breath hitches, and she lets out the sweetest sigh...then she grabs my hand and puts it between her legs. She's so damn wet,
slick soaking through her thong, and I run my fingers through her folds to find her pussy clenching.

"I do this for a living, but I don't react like this to just anyone," she whispers. "I want to be yours, Gunnar, but I can't. Not yet."

I stare at her, my heart pounding in my chest. "Why not?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

She bites her lip, her eyes burning with desire. "I can't be with you if I'm stuck in Dreamland," she says, her voice a hushed
whisper. "If I want a chance at freedom, I'm going to need your help."

I take a deep breath, my mind spinning with thoughts of betrayal and danger. But as I look into her eyes, I can see the truth in her
words.

She's a prisoner.

And she needs my help, Rook and Luka and Vance fucking Solace be damned.

"Okay," I say, my voice barely above a breath. "I'll help you."

Her eyes widen in surprise, and she leans forward to kiss me. It's a slow, deep, bruising kiss, and I gasp when she catches my
lip between her teeth and bites.

She draws blood.

Marks me.

And that's when I lose all control and come.

I grind my hips against her, keeping my hand between her legs and yanking her thong aside so I can play with her clit. Aisling
tilts her head back and her jaw drops, and then she's coming, too, clenching against my fingertips.

When she pulls back, those plum-purple lips are stained red. She licks my blood away, still straddling me.

"We can only talk here," she whispers. "Where they aren't really listening. Come back soon, okay?"

She pushes off of my chest and stands up, righting her clothes.

"You're leaving?" I ask.

"I don't want to attract suspicion," she says. She slides the thong down her hips, and my jaw drops as she puts it in my hand,
closing my fingers around it with a smirk. "And besides...I need to go get cleaned up and changed. You ruined my outfit, Gunnar
Finch."

I watch as she walks to the door, her hips swaying gently from side to side. I hold onto the thong in my hand, my mind racing
with the implications of what she's just said.

Rook's warning, Luka's tale, and the desire for her all collide in my thoughts.

But one thing stands out: she's not just a prisoner. She's someone who wants to be free.

And I'm going to help her.

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MP25778.
VSAM macro coding and debugging. International Business
Machines Corporation. 58 min., sd., color, videotape (1/2 inch) in
cassette. (IBM independent study program) © International
Business Machines Corporation, accepted alternative: IBM
Corporation; 25Mar74; MP25778.

MP25779.
VSAM concepts and access method services usage (DOS/VS)
International Business Machines Corporation. 34 min., sd., color,
videotape (1/2 inch) in cassette. (IBM independent study program)
© International Business Machines Corporation, alternative
designation: IBM Corporation; 25Mar74; MP25779.

MP25780.
Basic shooting techniques. Sports Instruction Aids. 6 min., sd.,
color, 16 mm. © Sports Instruction Aids; 15Nov73; MP25780.

MP25781.
 Fakes and drives. Sports Instruction Aids. 6 min., sd., color, 16
mm. © Sports Instruction Aids; 15Nov73; MP25781.

MP25782.
Jump shot from the dribble. Sports Instruction Aids. 5 min., sd.,
color, 16 mm. Add. ti.: Jump from the dribble. © Sports Instruction
Aids; 15Nov73; MP25782.

MP25783.
Close to the basket moves. Sports Instruction Aids. 6 min., sd.,
color, 16 mm. © Sports Instruction Aids; 15Nov73; MP25783.

MP25784.
Free throws. Sports Instruction Aids. 6 min., sd., color, 16 mm. ©
Sports Instruction Aids; 15Nov73; MP25784.

MP25785.
Alpen satisfied revised. Colgate Palmolive Company. 30 sec., sd.,
color, 16 mm. Add. ti.: I’m satisfied revised. © Colgate Palmolive
Company; 1Sep74; MP25785.

MP25786.
Dominion. Stan Brakhage. 5 min., si., color, 16 mm. © Stan
Brakhage; 24Sep74; MP25786.

MP25787.
The Nature and control of canine hookworm disease. Jensen-
Salsbery Laboratories Division, division of Richardson-Merrell, Inc.
17 min., sd., color, 16 mm. © Jensen-Salsbery Laboratories Division,
division of Richardson-Merrell, Inc.; 22Jul74 (in notice: 1973);
MP25787.
MP25788.
Pinocchio’s birthday party. Family Entertainment Corporation
presentation. Made by Intercom Films, Ltd. Released by K-tel
Motion Pictures. 85 min., sd., color, 35 mm. © Family
Entertainment Corporation; 10Aug74 (in notice: 1973); MP25788.

MP25789.
Food: more for your money. Alfred Higgins Productions, Inc. 14
min., sd., color, 16 mm. © Alfred Higgins Productions, Inc.; 1Oct74;
MP25789.

MP25790.
Examination of the foot. The American Humane Association. 11
min., sd., color, videotape (3/4 inch) in cassette. (Introduction to
horse care) © The American Humane Association; 1Jun74 (in notice:
1973); MP25790.

MP25791.
Loading and transportation. The American Humane Association.
13 min., sd., color, videotape (3/4 inch) in cassette. (Introduction to
horse care) © The American Humane Association; 1Jun74 (in notice:
1973); MP25791.

MP25792.
Haltering and restraint. The American Humane Association. 14
min., sd., color, videotape (3/4 inch) in cassette. (Introduction to
horse care) © The American Humane Association; 1Jun74 (in notice:
1973); MP25792.

MP25793.
Flight. Stan Brakhage. 5 min., si., color, 16 mm. © Stan Brakhage;
13Aug74; MP25793.
MP25794.
Kaybolt Wrecking Company. Division of Archives, History and
Records Management, Florida Department of State. Made by Joyous
Lake, Inc. 28 min., sd., color, 16 mm. © Division of Archives, History
and Records Management, Florida Department of State; 21Mar74;
MP25794.

MP25795.
Respect. Corridor Productions, Inc. 3 min., sd., color, 16 mm.
(Contemporary values series) © Corridor Productions, Inc.;
23Aug74; MP25795.

MP25796.
Shorin ryu kata, goju-shiho. Kenjer Martial Arts Productions. 17
min., si., color, Super 8 mm. Add. ti.: Shorin ryu, goju-shiho kata. ©
Kenjer Martial Arts Productions; 6Jun74; MP25796.

MP25797.
Bookkeeping and accounting: how do you figure in? Coronet
Instructional Media, a division of Esquire, Inc. 11 min., sd., color, 16
mm. (Bookkeeping and you, 2nd ed.) © Coronet Instructional
Media, a division of Esquire, Inc.; 21Feb74; MP25797.

MP25798.
Gliding motility in the algae. Ryan W. Drum & Robert Day Allen. 6
min., si., color, Super 8 mm. in cartridge. (Cells and cell processes)
© Harper and Row, Publishers, Inc.; 8Oct73; MP25798.

MP25799.
Albert Camus: a self portrait. Learning Company of America, a
division of Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc. 20 min., sd., color, 16
mm. NM: a new film incorporating some prev. pub. material. ©
Learning Company of America, a division of Columbia Pictures
Industries, Inc.; 18May72 (in notice: 1971); MP25799.

MP25800.
Selling to women. Chrysler Corporation. 18 min., sd., color, Super
8 mm. in cartridge. Appl. au.: Ross Roy, Inc. © Chrysler
Corporation; 25Jul74; MP25800.

MP25801.
Play—is trying out. Allegra May, Kathy Sylva & Jerome S. Bruner.
Distributed by John Wiley and Sons, Inc. 25 min., sd., color, 16 mm.
(Bruner series—cognitive development) © Allegra May, Kathy Sylva
& Jerome S. Bruner; 1Dec73; MP25801.

MP25802.
One, two, many: early object handling. Karlen Lyons, Allegra May
& Jerome Bruner. Distributed by John Wiley and Sons, Inc. 15 min.,
sd., color, 16 mm. (Bruner series—cognitive development) © Karlen
Lyons, Allegra May & Jerome Bruner; 1Dec73 (in notice: 1972);
MP25802.

MP25803.
Garner Ted Armstrong. Program 559. Ambassador College. 30
min., sd., color, videotape (3/4 inch) in cassette. © World Wide
Church of God; 21Feb74; MP25803.

MP25804.
Auto-body sheet metal man’s helper: removing a dent and pulling
out a simple dent (basic hand skills) Robert Heller Productions, Inc.
6 motion pictures (4 min. each), si., color, Super 8 mm. in cartridges.
(Automotive damage correction series, set 1) © Robert Heller
Productions, Inc. & McGraw-Hill, Inc.; 12Sep73; MP25804.
MF25805.
Auto-body sheet metal man: applying a patch and repairing a torn
section (basic hand skills) Robert Heller Productions, Inc. 8 motion
pictures (4 min. each), si., color, Super 8 mm. in cartridges.
(Automotive damage correction series, set 2) © Robert Heller
Productions, Inc. & McGraw-Hill, Inc.; 12Sep73; MP25805.

MP25806.
Auto painter’s helper; removing a scratch (basic hand skills)
Robert Heller Productions, Inc. 7 motion pictures (4 min. each), si.,
color, Super 8 mm. in cartridges. (Automotive damage correction
series, set 3) © Robert Heller Productions, Inc. & McGraw-Hill, Inc.;
12Sep73; MP25806.

MP25807.
Auto painter: refinishing a panel (basic hand skills) Robert Heller
Productions, Inc. 7 motion pictures (4 min. each), si., color, Super 8
mm. in cartridges. (Automotive damage correction series, set 4) ©
Robert Heller Productions, Inc. & McGraw-Hill, Inc.; 12Sep73;
MP25807.

MP25808.
Gillette Street. A production of KERA-TV newsroom. 29 min., sd.,
color, 16 mm. (Urban design issues in Texas) Appl. au.: Public
Communication Foundation for North Texas. © Public
Communication Foundation for North Texas; 16Oct74; MP25808.

MP25809.
ABBA presents. ABBA Productions. 3 min., sd., b&w, 16 mm. ©
ABBA Productions; 23Sep74; MP25809.

MP25810.
 Not a sparrow falls. Sparrow Productions. 28 min., sd., color, 16
mm. Appl. au.: The Salvation Army. © The Salvation Army; 1Jun74;
MP25810.

MP25811.
Growth of cassava (Manihot utilissima) Film Production Unit,
Iowa State University of Science and Technology. Produced in
cooperation with Escuela Agricola Pan Americana & the
Organization for Tropical Studies. 3 min., si., color, 16 mm. (Tropical
biology) © Iowa State University a.a.d.o. Iowa State University of
Science and Technology; 1Oct74 (in notice: 1973); MP25811.

MP25812.
Before it’s too late. Woroner Films, Inc. Produced in cooperation
with National Crime Prevention Institute, University of Louisville. 28
min., sd., color, 16 mm. © Woroner Films, Inc.; 26Sep74; MP25812.

MP25813.
Basic security surveys. Woroner Films, Inc. 25 min., sd., color, 16
mm. (Crime prevention) © Texas Criminal Justice Division, State of
Texas; 16Oct74; MP25813.

MP25814.
Introduction and theory of crime prevention. Woroner Films, Inc.
23 min., sd., color, 16 mm. (Crime prevention) Add. ti.: Introduction
to crime prevention. © Texas Criminal Justice Division, State of
Texas; 16Oct74; MP25814.

MP25815.
Penny Lane. Albert Davidson. Produced in association with the
Mechanical Bank Collectors of America. A film created by Arnold L.
Leibovit. 10 min., sd., color, 16 mm. © Albert Davidson (in notice: Al
Davidson); 24Aug74; MP25815.
MP25816.
The Text of light. Stan Brakhage. 75 min., si., color, 16 mm. © Stan
Brakhage; 2Oct74; MP25816.

MP25817.
The Struggle for Vicksburg. Centron Educational Films. 19 min.,
sd., color, 16 mm. Appl. au.: Centron Corporation, Inc. © Centron
Corporation, Inc.; 12Jul74; MP23817.

MP25818.
In the year of the pig. The Monday Film Production Company.
Released by New Yorker Films. 97 min., sd., b&w, 16 mm. NM: 60%
new footage. © The Monday Film Production Company; 25Oct68;
MP25818.

MP25819.
The View from the crib. The American Institutes for Research. 15
min., sd., color, 16 mm. (Early childhood education series) ©
American Institutes for Research; 16Apr74; MP25819.

MP25820.
Science of survival. The Virginia Tech Film Unit & Department of
Food Science and Technology, College of Agriculture and Life
Sciences, Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University. 21 min.,
sd., color, 16 mm. © Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State
University; 30Mar74; MP25820.

MP25821.
El Camino—a beautiful value. General Motors Corporation. 8 min.,
sd., color, Super 8 mm. in cartridge. Add. ti.: 1975 Chevrolet El
Camino. © General Motors Corporation; 13Aug74; MP25821.

MP25822.
 1975 Chevrolet Camaro. General Motors Corporation. 5 min., sd.,
color, Super 8 mm. in cartridge. Add. ti.: Camaro ’75. © General
Motors Corporation (in notice: Chevrolet Motor Division, General
Motors Corporation); 23Aug74; MP25822.

MP25823.
Bearcat Baker’s Filmed boxing course. George Williams known as
Bearcat Baker. 5 min., sd., color, 16 mm. Add. ti.: Bearcat Baker’s
Filmed basic boxing course. © George Williams known as Bearcat
Baker; 2Oct74; MP25823.

MP25824.
Back to school. Colgate Palmolive Company. 30 seconds, sd., color,
16 mm. Add. ti.: A Neat glue for neat people—back to school. ©
Colgate Palmolive Company; 13Aug74; MP25824.

MP25825.
Use of art therapy in a vocational milieu. ICD Rehabilitation and
Research Center. 22 min., sd., b&w, videotape (1/2 inch) in reel. ©
ICD, a.a.d.o. ICD Rehabilitation and Research Center; 30Jul74;
MP25825.

MP25826.
Manual positive pressure ventilation (bag and mask) American
College of Physicians. 7 min., sd., color, Super 8 mm. in cassette.
(American College of Physicians medical skills library) Add. ti.:
Manual positive pressure measurement (bag and mask) © American
College of Physicians; 1Aug74; MP25826.

MP25827.
Meet Lynd Ward and May McNeer. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min.,
sd., b&w, videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline
Shachter; 26Feb74; MP25827.
MP25828.
Meet Jean Fritz. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w, videotape
(1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter; 28Mar74;
MP25828.

MP25829.
Meet Letta Schatz. Jaqueline Shachter. 60 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25829.

MP25830.
Meet Kristin Hunter. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25830.

MP25831.
Meet Judy Blume. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25831.

MP25832.
Meet Keith Robertson. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25832.

MP25833.
Meet Eve Merriam. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25833.

MP25834.
 Meet Arnold Lobel. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25034.

MP25835.
Meet Pura Belpre. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25835.

MP25836.
Meet Richard Lewis. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25836.

MP25837.
Meet Marguerite de Angeli. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25837.

MP25838.
Meet Joe and Beth Krush. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25838.

MP25839.
Meet Elizabeth Gray Vining. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd.,
b&w, videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline
Shachter; 28Mar74; MP25839.

MP25840.
Meet Joan Lexau. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25840.
MP25841.
Meet Tom and Muriel Feelings. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd.,
b&w, videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline
Shachter; 28Mar74; MP25841.

MP25842.
Meet Madeleine L’Engle. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25842.

MP25843.
Meet Lloyd Alexander, Evaline Ness, Ann Durrell. Jaqueline
Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w, videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in
literature) © Jaqueline Shachter; 28Mar74; MP25843.

MP25844.
Meet Jeanne and Robert Bendick. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min.,
sd., b&w, videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline
Shachter; 28Mar74; MP2584.

MP25845.
Meet Joseph Krumgold. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25845.

MP25846.
Meet Eleanor Cameron. Jaqueline Shachter. 30 min., sd., b&w,
videotape (1/2 inch) (Profiles in literature) © Jaqueline Shachter;
28Mar74; MP25846.

MP25847.