I jerk my head up.One of my mother’s servants hovers a few paces away, eyes darting nervously down the hall before settling back on me.A girl not much older than me, in a plain black dress, with a pretty face and kind eyes.
“You don’t have to marry him.”She leans closer, whispering now, as if she’s afraid the walls themselves will betray her.“There’s ...another way.”
I blink through my tears.“What are you talking about?”
Her hands wring together.“The Sanctuary.They’re holding their auction tonight.Omegas who need escape ...they volunteer.Alphas pay a fortune for a night, and the omegas leave with enough money to start over.Enough to disappear.”
My heart stutters violently.I’ve heard whispers about the place, but I thought it was rumor.A black-market fairy tale told to desperate girls like me.“Is it actually real?”
Hope, a faint whisper, stirs deep in my chest.I know it is crazy to even consider doing this but the thought of losing my freedom pushes me past the fear.
She nods, eyes bright with urgency.“It’s real.But it’s also dangerous.But I think it’s still better than being chained for life to a monster you don’t want.”
The hope that was only a whisper the moment before crashes through me so hard it hurts.This could be my only chance.Maybe my last chance, and I won’t let it slip away.
By the time the sun sets, I’m gone.
I trade the ridiculous silk gowns my mother forces me to wear for anonymity, I slip through the estate like a thief and vanish into the night.Each step away from my mother feels like ripping shackles from my ankles.Terror claws at my ribs, but beneath it thrums something I’ve never felt before.Freedom.
****
The room they lockme in is cold and clinical.An older beta woman strips me bare with efficient hands while she ignores my protests and fastens the leather cuffs around my wrists and ankles.The St.Andrew’s cross is hard against my spine, the leather straps biting into my skin as I’m bound wide and exposed for strangers’ eyes.Shame burns my cheeks, and I wish I could cover myself.
The glass box begins to rise, lifting me toward the blinding stage lights.The roar of Alphas is immediate, savage, wholly animalistic.Their scents clash and swirl, sharp hunger rolling off them in waves.My nipples pebble under the heat of their gazes, slick gathering between my thighs despite my shame.
God.My body betrays me so easily.
The announcer’s voice booms.“Lot number four.Virgin omega.Bidding starts at two hundred thousand.”
Numbers fly, shouted and snarled.The air thickens with aggression, with lust.My heart slams, each beat a war between terror and arousal against my ribs.I shouldn’t feel this way.I should want to vomit.Instead, my thighs tremble, wetness sliding down despite my clenched muscles.
“Five million.”
The voice is low, cold, and commanding.It silences the room instantly.
My breath catches.My eyes dart toward the sound, though the lights blind me.All I catch is a shadow, tall and broad, radiating power like a storm barely contained.The others fall silent, defeated and cowed.
“Sold,” the announcer says, slamming down his wooden gavel.
The cage sinks back beneath the stage, taking me away from the lights.My pulse is frantic, my body confused.Relief and dread coil together until I can’t tell them apart.
When the door opens, I see him.Zion Black.Known for his ruthless efficiency in everything.From business transactions to taking out his enemies.He is both feared and respected by the elite and the criminals of our world.He has a towering presence, a darkness that cloaks him in mystery and malice.He is a predator in human skin.His gaze rakes over me like claws, and every nerve in my body goes taut.Fear curdles in my belly and arousal slicks my thighs and I don’t know which terrifies me more.
The corridor feels endless, each step echoing too loud, like the sound of a prisoner being marched to her execution.My wrists ache where the cuffs rubbed earlier, my skin marked and tender, but I hardly feel it over the thundering beat of my heart.
I don’t dare look at him, though I feel him at my back.It’s a heavy, powerful sensation.Each stride of his boots is measured and predatory, like he’s stalking prey that has nowhere to run.
When the handler opens a door, I’m ushered inside.My breath catches at the sight before me.
The suite is nothing like the cold preparation rooms.Dark wood gleams under soft light, the air scented faintly of leather and smoke.A massive four-poster bed dominates the space, made up in deep navy sheets that look too smooth, too inviting, too much like a trap.
The door shuts behind me and the click of the lock makes my knees weaken.I am alone with a man, an Alpha, that could do any number of things to me.I sold myself to a stranger and now I have to face the consequences.
I stand at the foot of the bed, nude, my arms crossed over my breasts like a child trying to hide.I keep my eyes glued to the floor.Every instinct screams at me to make myself small, invisible, unworthy of notice.My body has other plans, though.Heat coils low, slick clinging between my thighs, my scent betraying me.
His presence fills the room before he even moves.I hear him, the rustle of his jacket sliding off broad shoulders, the steady rhythm of his breathing.Then I hear his footsteps.Slow and unhurried, each one scraping against the floor and my nerves until I flinch when he finally stops in front of me.
“Look at me.”The command sinks into my bones, my head snapping up before I can resist.
