Den of Paradise

Chapter One

CAINE

Being the leader of the Devereux pack, the highest ranking elite family in Ailemorth, had its advantages. Power, wealth, deference. It was a position many had tried—and failed—to obtain on account of those privileges.

Though there were no pros without cons.

I’d inherited and procured many businesses in our region—exclusive nightclubs, high-end lounges, luxury venues—all in prime locations.

Premises with a reputation for elegance and class.

But then there were the shitholes. The filthy hovels in the lower districts, which I wouldn’t step foot in if I had any other choice.

I’d have them demolished if they weren’t so in demand and providing us surveillance in every nook and corner of the city.

It was my preferred method to send an agent to carry out the yearly audits, but once in a blue moon, I had to show my face.

“Good for morale,” my mother had once said.

Waste of fucking time, more like. “To ensure the pack bonds remain stable.” On that point, he wasn’t wrong.

A pack found its strength in numbers. Bonds formed and connected us all as one solid unit, with me at the apex, but if left without occasional recognition, they could wane, and eventually break.

Hence why I was here. It wasn’t for enjoyment, but to ensure loyalty and commitment.

Not that I’d find much of either in a place like this.

Den of Paradise.

Where the depraved and desperate came to satisfy instinct.

It was an unassuming building—black brick walls with a neon-blue sign above the door—sitting alone on a nondescript street in district thirty-eight.

On paper it was a club, ordinary, stereotypical, but in reality it was a clinic, of sorts.

A glorified whorehouse. Alphas and omegas would pay for a soundproof room and a stranger to spend their heat or rut with.

Contracts were signed, as I could hardly rely on verbal assurances, and confidentiality was top priority.

For legal reasons. There were no restrictions on who could enter as long as they had the cash to spend.

The vetting system was . . . abysmal, depending mostly on nature and the threat of repercussions for disruptive behaviour.

It was rare to encounter complications for such a simple exchange of services, but when we did, it was dealt with swiftly. Permanently.

It could almost be mistaken for a good deed, offering a solution to those who had nowhere to turn in their most fragile state, but there was nothing “good” about it.

It was illegal. Forced mating bonds led to a prison sentence—for the offender and the facilitator—and that was one of those rare headaches we ran into.

Even with regulations in place, it was impossible to avoid entirely.

It was beneficial having the chief of police as a regular, though we still had to be cautious.

Thus the outward appearance; keeping it under the radar risked less inconvenience for me.

I hated its existence, but there was money to be made among the desperate.

“As you can see, boss, everything is tip top,” Finn confirmed, his upbeat Irish brogue a contrast to the bleak atmosphere. Being the manager of such a place, I was stunned he had anything to be cheery about. “Satisfaction assured, that’s the motto.”

“Hm.” The smell was revolting: heat and rut lingering in the lobby, a pungent cocktail of feral Alphas and needy omegas.

My vision was already misting at the edges, my stomach roiling.

Mercifully, the rooms themselves were scent- and soundproof, per my demands, or my reaction would’ve been worse. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Righty-o!”

I nodded toward Raegan, my chief escort, signalling we were done.

It wasn’t until my foot brushed the threshold, a fucking step away from marginally fresher air, that a door slammed behind me.

I turned, observing a man—an Alpha—bolting out of the hallway.

His face was red, his pupils blown wide, but neither was where my focus narrowed.

His clothes were torn, in disarray, streaked with blood from the scratches welling over his neck and bare chest. I was no stranger to rough sex, but judging by the horror on his face, that wasn’t the case here.

“What kind of place is this, huh?” he accused, his voice cracking. “Fuck this!”

“Wait—” Finn called out, but the Alpha was gone. His shoulders sagged, and he scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “Least he signed the waiver.”

I faced Finn, my eyebrow raised above my patch. He was sweating. “Tip top, you said?”

“Uh, yeah.” He gave me an unconvincing half smile. “That’s nothing to worry about, just a temporary blip. No biggie. You have a wonderful rest of your day now, don’t—”

A beta worker, clad in the distinct cobalt and black uniform, came skittering out of the dark, seemingly distressed. His eyes landed on me and he froze, his gaze darting between me and Finn, his fingers twitching.

“Speak,” I said, and he jerked at my impatient tone.

“I-I, uh . . .” He swallowed thickly, his anxiety grating on my nerves.

“Speak.”

He glanced at Finn and sighed. “We have no one else.”

Finn cursed. “This has never happened before.”

“What do we do?”

“You have five seconds to give me details,” I warned, causing them both to flinch. “Or there will be consequences.”

“We have an omega in his first heat, and . . .” Finn raked at his slicked-back hair, wincing.

“He’s refused every Alpha we’ve given him.

We threw in another omega and even a beta to see if it soothed him—I don’t know, he could have trauma or some shit—but no dice.

He wasn’t violent toward them, but he wasn’t interested. ”

That was . . . unusual. Omegas typically weren’t fussy about who fucked them out of their heat; as long as their holes were filled, they were content.

I was under the impression they didn’t have the initiative to be picky.

They were programmed to submit to an Alpha’s every whim, to beg to be bred for the purpose of serving their own opportunistic ambitions, and those impulses only heightened during their heat.

This omega was clearly insane.

“Let him spend his heat alone,” I said, no longer interested. “No refunds.”

Finn gazed up at me, an emotional spark in his eyes. “That’s cruel.”

“You do understand the business I run, yes? Stop being soft.”

“I know, I know, but it’s still cruel.” He shrugged, his lips downturned. “Poor thing’s in his first heat, and he’s desperate.”

I pinned him with a flat look. “Clearly.”

“Maybe he has high standards?”

“Then he’s in the wrong place.” I didn’t have time to be concerning myself with omegas and their superficial needs. It was irrelevant to me, and I loathed to be involved in it. “I’m leaving.”

Finn was giving me a studious once-over. “You’re an Alpha . . .”

I gritted my teeth. “Watch it.”

He threw up his hands. “I’m just saying. We have no one else on our books, and we do guarantee satisfaction. It’s literally our slogan.”

“Not my problem. Nor do I have any desire to sate an omega’s needs.” The thought had revulsion coiling in my gut, a reflex response whenever omegas were concerned. “I have shit to do, so figure it out.”

“You don’t even need to fuck him. Just appease the lad. Give him a gust of your Alpha pheromones to get him through it. Poor love, he—”

“No.” I turned to leave, but before reaching the door again, an open file was thrust in front of my face.

The polaroid in the centre regrettably had me stalling.

It wasn’t his appearance, though that wasn’t wholly unappealing.

It was the sneer on his lips. The resistance in his dark, scowling eyes.

It wasn’t an expression I’d ever seen on an omega.

It was . . . intriguing. The picture was taken while his heat was clawing under the surface.

It was notable by the flush on his pale cheeks, the dilated pupils, and if I squinted, the subtle bulge of his mating gland throbbed with a red, purposefully eye-catching hue.

Clients usually timed it better, arriving in the lobby well before their preheat was in full force, but if I had to guess, he was here as a last resort.

As if this was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

I could relate.

“Omega 0198” was written at the top of the page in bold.

Names were unnecessary—it kept associations to the bare minimum—though part of me wanted to know his.

It was standard practice. No details, under any circumstances, were to be exchanged between parties, and most were too terrified of the consequences to oppose the rule.

Finn only took what was absolutely essential and locked it away in a separate file: an address for collateral.

This wasn’t an omega who would mix with my circle, it was obvious from the dyed blond tips of his hair and the tattoo poking out from under his creased shirt.

Omegas were expected to stay unblemished so their Alpha’s marks and pack symbol would be the only brands on them.

I found seeing an alternative rather pleasing.

He clearly protested the “rules.”

My thoughts returned to the Alpha who’d come out covered in welts and blood.

The little creature was fierce. I’d never known an omega not to be mild and polite in public, or wanton and clingy in the bedroom.

They just lay down, spread their legs, and obeyed.

In my sphere, they were paraded around as bargaining chips or used as trophies.

A symbol of wealth and virility, told to be on their best behaviour—to be the dutiful omega, who abided by those old-fashioned standards my father had supported.

Not that, in the last ten years, I’d ever been in their presence long enough to study their personalities.

“He’s pretty, no?” Finn cut in, his tone too smug for my liking. “A real gem. I was surprised when he turned up on our doorstep. We don’t typically get—”

“Enough,” I barked, willing my sigh to whittle in my lungs. I must be out of my damn mind. “What room is he in?”

Finn beamed. “Room five, at the far end.”

I artfully removed the bottle in my pocket before peeling off my coat and throwing it at him. “I’ll stand at the door and offer him pheromones, that is all.” I pointed in his face. “And if you ever put me on the spot like this again, I will skin you alive, do you understand?”

He bobbed his head vigorously, clutching at the fabric like a lifeline. “You’re a saint, boss.”

I scoffed, facing Raegan. “Let Aaron know our meeting is cancelled. Ensure he doesn’t bring the pack to ruins while I’m gone.”

She snorted, but nodded once. “I’ll do my best.”

With one final scathing look aimed at Finn, I made my way down the corridor.

Despite the proofing, the stench lingered in the hallway as it did in the lobby, my nose already feeling heavy.

Finn wasn’t aware of my affliction regarding omega scents or he wouldn’t have imposed.

He wouldn’t have dared. If I was forced into a scenario where I’d potentially cross paths with an omega, I used sprays to temporarily dull the receptors in my nose and injected myself with a serum to ease the adverse symptoms. I would get nothing done otherwise, the stink being everywhere I turned.

It was common to limit the expulsion of pheromones in public out of politeness, but it wasn’t enough.

I could still smell them.

I’d taken a shot before leaving the house, but I’d need another hit of the spray. It would allow me to douse the room in my scent, enough to get him through his heat, and I wouldn’t feel quite so much like dying in the process.

I uncapped the lid on the bottle, bringing the nozzle up to my nose, but before I could inhale, a faint note of perfume filtered through the hall. It was drifting from the door up ahead.

Number five.

I stepped forward, an aimless action, and cracked open the door. I waited for the rush of familiar wetness in my nose, and the vertigo, which seemed to be aware of an omega in my vicinity before I was. Nothing happened.

I paused.

There was no nauseating odour. In fact, any disgust I’d felt melted away, leaving only fascination. The door crept wider under my wavering hand, and a surge of that beckoning fragrance swept out of the room as frustrated mewling caressed my ears.

It wasn’t unbearable.