“Hey.” I clear my throat and glance at the guard. “We really can’t talk to her? Not even a question?”
The guard shakes his head immediately. “No interaction unless a handler gives explicit permission.” He glances inside the alcove, and I see a young female beta sitting in the folding chair in the corner. She gives a gentle shake of her head, making me frown.
“Most of the omegas are too medicated to talk anyway,” the guard says. “It keeps them calm and safe.”
I frown. “Safe from what?”
He looks me up and down like it is obvious. “Alpha pheromones are hard on an omega’s body. Too much stimulation and they could panic or spiral. This way, they don’t get upset, and the alphas don’t get out of control. Safe and sound.”
Warren’s jaw goes tight. Mine probably does too.
I step back from the rope and grab Warren’s sleeve, pulling him a few feet away, far enough that the guard can’t hear.
“I don’t feel great about this,” I mutter.
Warren exhales through his nose, long and controlled, the way he does when he is trying not to break something. “I don’t either.” His eyes drift down the makeshift hall, looking at all the different alcoves. “But what choice do we have?” he asks quietly.
Frustrated, I scrub both hands down my face, hard enough that it stings. My palms drag over the roughness of my jaw, then up into my curls. I fist my hair, grounding myself.
“Alright,” I say quietly. “I’ll follow your lead.”
Warren nods. He looks like he expected that. Then he straightens his tie with a practiced touch, before turning and walking down the velvet-lined corridor.
I fall in step beside him.
We glance into each alcove as we pass. Every omega is gorgeous in a way that feels curated. Shiny hair. Tiny outfits. Perfect posture…except it isn’t perfect. Not really. They sit at odd angles, like their joints don’t quite know where to land. Their expressions are blank. Their limbs loose. Their eyes drift without really seeing anything.
It makes my stomach twist.
Warren slows at a few alcoves and reads their one-sheets. He doesn’t stop for long. Skimming the information, he narrows his eyes faintly, then he moves on.
Other alphas walk the rows with easy interest. Some murmur quietly to the guards. Some gesture at the girls like they are comparing features. A few handlers make suggestions that feel gross.
It all feels staged.
We turn a corner, the velvet curtains shifting around us like a maze. Warren stops to read another one-sheet, his brow furrowing as he scans whatever meaningless stats they have listed.
I let my gaze drift, more out of habit than anything else.
And then I see her.
An omega with long legs sits in her alcove like the others, framed by soft light and velvet. She’s draped across a red velvet couch, in a tight black corset, lacy little panties, and thigh-high stockings, posed in a way that’s meant to look inviting.
And she’s…breathtaking.
Her dark red hair is long, spilling over her shoulders in loose waves that catch the light. Her cheeks are full and soft, her mouth shaped in a way that makes her look both young and timeless. There’s a natural beauty to her that hits harder than any of the perfectly styled girls we’ve passed.
And I cannot look away.
The omega’s eyes lift, and they land right on me. They don’t drift or flutter; they stay completely focused.
Sharp and alive.
They’re the color of dark chocolate, and in the dim light, they look liquid, like they could melt and run right over my skin.
It sends a spark firing straight into my cock. A hot, vicious jolt that thickens my dick against my zipper in an instant.
For a second, I forget where I am. The music and hushed voices around me fade, the entire room dissolving into meaningless static as I suck in a breath, trying to scent her from here. But the mix of other omegas, alphas, andmuted betas clog up my nose, a cacophony of smells that’s an insult to what she must smell like.
