Skye
Being an Omega isn’t a death sentence; being an Omegaanda werewolf might as well be.
As I stand before the mirror with a bitchy human Beta pouring her rank lemon sorbet scent across my skin, I can do nothing but plan for my escape tonight. I can’t spend another night walking out to the flood of Alpha pheromones and let myself be passed to the highest bidder.
The Omega auctions are supposed to be somewhere safe despite the name. A place where Omegas can come of their own free will, added to a catalog for the night, and the Alphas pay an entry fee, and instead of bidding money on their choices, they put in an‘offer of interest.’If they’re lucky, the Omega will spend some time with them during the mixer part of the night, then choose who to spend a month with under contract to protect both parties. Hell, some Omegas just enjoyed the trip and would keep coming back month after month to go home with another pack. Then… Then there are the really lucky ones, the ones who get to go home with their scent matches, falling into the safety of their goddess-given fated packs. That doesn’t happen here, though.
Here, in Citrine City, you have the Omegas who choose to come to the auctions still, unknowing of the dark underside of their facility. Then there are the ones like me—sent off as the shame of their family packs. My shame is being born with mygrandmother's innate ability to take to the woods on all fours in a fur coat. Shifters are a well-hidden secret in our world, monitored by our own laws, not that anyone had taught me about them. I’d learned the hard way over the years of meeting other shifters since my grandmother had passed before I shifted for the first time, never knowing that her‘special’genes had jumped a generation. My parents had never coped all that well with it, struggling with not just a wild kid, but a wild kid who was a literal animal at times. When mom died a few years ago in a car accident, dad had totally lost it, and I had been passed from Omega facility to Omega facility, just making a general nuisance of myself. I thought that if I made enough trouble, they’d send me out into the world, but no such luck. Instead, they doubled down, and now I am here.
So, slipped into the most beautiful sunset ombre dress I’ve ever seen in my life, with waves of overlapping lace skirts, I have been marked as a difficult Omega, as per the facility's color coding.
Reaching past me, the Beta grabs for some sort of pin for my hair. With a harsh yelp, she—Cass, I think her name is—dodges my snapping teeth, and I snarl at her with all the rage of an Alpha bear in rut. In retaliation, the thick paddle brush comes down on my head with a dullthudlike I’m some misbehaving child.
“How fucking dare you…” I begin, ready to tear into her with words, and the shift overtakes when a high-pitched chuckle from the door makes my blood run cold.
Anna is the Alpha running this show. Supposedly tasked with caring for all the Omegas that come through the door of her facility, it’s well known that she’s profiting from our sales—taking bribes from the nastiest packs that are banned from the legitimate facilities. Many of my more violent dreams when I’m in timeout—solitary—revolve around what I’d do to her if Icould get her in a room alone. But I’m just a weak Omega, and she’s a rich Alpha with a slew of guards around her at all times; guards that are more than happy to damage the merchandise. My mottled, bruised ribs are a testament to that.
“Cassie, are you not done with her yet? The preview starts in twenty minutes, and we can’t afford to have her be late again.” The flat tones of the Alpha roll over me, and the little Omega inside sits up and snarls. Not one single part of me likes Anna. Wolf, Omega, or Skye, the woman, all burn with hatred towards this woman, and her strawberries and cream scent isn’t fooling anyone; she’s rotten to the core. Not to mention that sweet scents make my stomach churn, a leftover from my father's sugary honey scent chasing away any pleasure I found in treats.
“Sorry, Anna,” The Beta suck-up drops her chin and pouts, “She keeps trying to bite me.”
“Then muzzle her, it’s nearly time, and I can’t have her attacking any of the Alphas tonight. There are too many important clients.”
Between the two of them and an extra guard, I’m astonished when they wrestle a metal cage over my mouth like a fucking animal. Fighting them the whole way, I can feel the bruises blooming sharply across my jaw and arms where I’m being pinned. It takes far too long with us floundering and struggling before Anna seems to remember that she’s an Alpha and barks at me to hold still, forcing me into submission as she finishes the buckles and straps before finishing it by snapping a lock onto the damn thing. My cheek burns where a new handprint smarts, and I only wish that I could fire laser beams from my eyes with how hot my glare is.
Then, like a total 180, they take the time to gentle brush my hair back, resetting my look and the dress. Smoothing out creases and turning me to the mirror, I snap behind the Hannibal-esque mask. Though, despite that, it begrudges me toadmit I look great. The yellow-peach top half of the dress dips low between my full breasts, banding tightly beneath them and emphasizing the swell before falling into those shifting layers of chiffon ruffles until they fade into a blood red at my feet. The lower half is carefully arranged to hide the fact that I’m far curvier than most Omegas, the dimpled thighs and jiggly bits that aren’t as popular amongst the high and mighty. Bare feet finish the look, after I stabbed one of the guards with a heel last time they sent me out in them. The muzzle on my face matches the dress, pale oranges and reds with bars covering the gap over my mouth, only my red lips showing through. Given enough time, it’s going to rub the bridge of my nose, but I’m hoping to have it off and be free before the thing has a chance to draw blood.
There is no way I wouldn’t be picked up by Alphas tonight. And whilst most Omegas would love that, knowing they are going to drop jaws and attract the attention of drooling Alphas, it only spells trouble being here. Color-coded as a nuisance and muzzled, I am a battle cry to any Alpha who wants to tame an Omega, to crumble them so far under their heel that they’d fall at their feet and whimper. And that is the crux of it all, really, that despite being difficult, and fighting back, it would only take a strong enough Alpha to bark me to my knees, and I’d do anything they told me to, regardless of whether I want to. I could be chained up in their spare bedroom and brought out for events and heats like the good cutlery, then back into the room to incubate their heirs.
Growling as Cassidy approaches me again, I delight in the momentary wince even with the muzzle on. Time for one of my least favorite parts of this whole shit show. The wire collar that protects the scent glands on my neck from bites, whilst still letting me perfume freely in a room full of horny Alphas.
“One last thing…” Anna grabs me by the bicep and drags me towards the door, digging my heels like a tantrum-throwing pup. When we reach the door, she goes to push me through and out into the corridor when something bites into the glands in my neck with a sharp sting. Gasping, I fist my hands tightly to hide the claws and the fur sprouting across the back of them, fighting the shift to defend myself whilst my skin splits for waves of fur. How neither of them notice is beyond me.Shit. Hold yourself together, Skye.I breathe deeply as the icy liquid spreads through my veins and the syringe clatters to the floor. Both women smirk at me, smugness overtaking as they take up position on either side with the guards once more, shoving forward. “Maybe we’ll finally get rid of you tonight. It’s a wonder that your family kept you around that long, stinking as you do.”
My scent is a point of pride and pain for me. My mother had a sweet vanilla bean and raspberry perfume, like ice cream and compote—what had been comforting at one point but turned sour for me after her death. My father had this rich raw honey, and whilst the parents' scents usually contributed to the kids, I came out with a sharp rum scent with hints of lime and mint that didn’t really match either of them. And here I am now, starting to perfume with an uncomfortable ethanol tinge to signal my anxiety and discomfort.A booster.Anna shot me with a scent booster, or a heat shot… Either one is problematic, given how few weeks away my damn heat is to start with.Double shit.Between nearly shifting and now having synthetic hormones in my system, my wolf is trembling to break free. As soon as the first Alpha lays a hand on me, I’m going to cause a scene, then await my execution by the shifter council for outing us. Whatever a rutting Alpha could do to me, the Lords of the council would do a hundred times worse, and they’d butcher everyone else who saw too, make it look like an awful accident.
Finally herded into a room with other Omegas, I seek out my friend Jasmine, who’s in the room next to mine. I spend most of my mealtimes with her. Rumbling low in my chest, the other Omegas give us some space with startled faces, adrenaline, and excitement buzzing through the crowd. Most of them have no idea what goes on here, thinking that it’s just another day in the facility, and they’ll go to a nice, rich pack who will give them babies and take care of them with bites and bonds for the rest of their lives.No, thank you.Fighting the damn wolf back into the cage in my mind before I make a scene, I inhale, noting that I seem to be the only one hit by the booster, which makes me a target, but everyone else is as safe as they can be. The last thing we need is a whole group of us pouring pre-heat pheromones and sending a room full of Alphas into rut, starting fights, and trampling people. I might be a wolf and more capable of defending myself than most, but I’m still a relatively unfit and short woman. My chances and options are looking worse with every second that passes.
A warm hand thrusts into mine, and I’m washed over by the namesake of my friend. Blooming night jasmine surrounds me as her equally short stature finds its way next to me. Unlike my robust body, she’s willowy in her shortness, her dark curls in ringlets down her back, and a shining smile on her face. Returning it with something a little dimmer, I squeeze her warm fingers between mine. We’ve been a shoulder for each other since she came here a couple of months after me, sent unexpectedly by her family despite having a good relationship with them.
“You smell like my dad,” She smiles at me, a little sad this time, but I bump my head against hers in the closest hug I can get with us being sardined right now, awaiting the doors opening. It is a sore spot for my friend, her dad sending her away, then disappearing so she couldn’t even call during ourallowed times. I open my mouth to try and give her some comfort when the giant warehouse door in front of us grinds and creaks, opening this bright storage room to the luxurious auction room. The hot wall of Alpha hits us like a sledgehammer, and there’s a ripple through the crowd of Omegas, and everywhere I look, heads are raising, a collective inhale running through us. Squaring my shoulders, I push a little closer to Jasmine, turning to snap my teeth and snarl as we start to move in the crush through what I can only describe as one of those cattle chutes they use on ranches. Hands reach through, trying to grab at the Omegas, even as the guards bring batons down on them, or worse, tasers crackling as they press into muscle. We aren’t allowed to mingle untilthatstage of the night, and some of the Alphas are a little… Over-excitable now, but I doubt that the guards care enough about us to actually protect us if anything happened—we are just a paycheck.
No matter how many times I’ve done this walk of shame display down the chute, the hungry, filthy looks turn my stomach every time, like we really are only cattle to them. A couple of scents catch my attention, but it’s nothing strong or soul-wrenching enough for me to look for them. No, it’s better if I just keep my head down and move on. Syrupy caramel and apples assault my sinuses, then promptly wash away with a wave of furniture polish, with an undertone of a citrus like mine. The ruckus only grows as the rest of the Omegas come into the aisle, our combined scents growing. Some of them enjoy this, all the attention, and the perfuming starts immediately, dulling mine into the crowd, but the cheers and barks and catcalls keep coming.
‘Hey, pretty birdy, nice cage.’
‘Oh, ain’t you a cocktail of pretty.’
‘That’s a whole lot of Omega for one pack.’
All that and worse reaches my ears, so much worse. Jasmine squeezes my hand as the next fat joke rolls around, and her scent helps calm my nerves a little as we walk shoulder to shoulder, sticking as close to the outer edge as possible and away from the groping hands and calls.
“They’re getting worse every time, I swear,” I shake my head, baring teeth, and the flash of fanged canines makes her pale a little before she returns it as a grin. Omegas usually have a little fang, some old defense for us, but mine are closer to Alpha-sized, especially when I’ve pushed this close to shifting already. “Think you’ll find a pack tonight, Jazz?”
Her voice is like honey, slow and sweet with a thick Louisiana accent. I always wonder how she ended up coming all the way out to Colorado, but that is for her to know. Maybe if her pack is reasonable, I could still speak to her once I get out of here… “Always. I’ve only rejected two now… What are you on, fifty auctions now?” She giggles at me, a little weight lifting from my shoulders as I shake my head.
“Thirty-something, I spent the rest in the cooler, y’know, hitting my head on the wall rather than dealing with overbearing, stinky Alphas.” I think it is that many. I really have spent too many of them in solitary, though I was honest when I said I’d rather that. Jasmine just sighs at me, a motherly, chastising look on her kind face.
“You know they’re calling you ‘The Knot Wanted’ like, knot-knot. And there’s been some talk about needing a strong Alpha to set you straight.” Both of us grimace at her words. I know too well what’s been said about me at these events; the Omegas who reject packs, or choose not to bond them, come back with the news, and there seems to be a lot of uproar for an Omega who’s been in facilities as long as I have. A year here isn’t even the longest I’ve spent in one.
