Chapter 2
Oberon didn’t like the way the man on stage was looking at Note Hex.
He didn’t like the way he was looking at all, all dressed up in sheer gold silks and silver chains. The omega—if that was even what he actually was—oozed opulence, as though he knew his worth.
Which couldn’t be the case, because if he did, he wouldn’t be lowering his standards for someone like Note.
Arguably, there was nothing wrong with Oberon’s fellow White Frost member. In fact, in any other situation, he might have even called the guy a friend. But he was miles beneath O’s stature, and that was as plain as the fact that there was a full moon out tonight.
“That one.” O motioned to his secretary, shrouded in the shadows behind the curtain of the private booth he’d been given. “I want to know more about him. Before his turn arrives.”
“Yes, sir.” There was a light swishing of fabric as Claudio went to carry out the order.
The first bidding ended, and they quickly moved onto the next, but O barely paid any of the other omegas any mind.
He hadn’t come here with the intention to find a bedpartner, having merely intercepted the invitation to tonight's festivities out of sheer boredom.
The original guest had meant to be Espen Silvius, but he was too busy doing something for the underboss, Baal, to attend something like this.
Really, O was doing the guy a favor by coming in his stead.
Heat auctions were bland affairs. He couldn’t even recall the last time he’d willingly participated in one of the archaic practices.
If he wanted to buy sex, all he had to do was walk into any establishment and snap his fingers.
The “purchase” would be made through fine dining and expensive hotels with panoramic views of the city.
As the richest man on the planet—aside from the Imperial family—there was nothing and no one Oberon King couldn’t acquire. So of course, in line with the universe’s greatest cliché, that meant O was now bored.
Bored of how easy life was.
Bored of constantly having people throw themselves at him, be it for sex, wealth, or business.
Bored of Levi’s sudden interest in humanitarianism, and Baal’s obsession with his new omega. Hell, even Koah was distracted as of late. All of them had left O to his own devices, meaning hours spent twiddling his thumbs, wishing for something interesting to fall into his lap.
Last year he’d spent Heated Hearts Day in the midst of an omega orgy, all four of them in the throes of their heat. It hadn’t been unenjoyable, but a repeat performance left loads to be desired.
Claudio returned, and a paper file was presented through the gap in the black velvet separating them. “There isn’t much, I’m afraid.”
Oberon took it and peeled his eyes off the extravagant omega on stage, turning his attention to the file instead. There really wasn’t a lot of information, a single sheet tucked between the manila covers.
“You can’t see his face clearly,” he mumbled.
The photo used was of the omega walking, his side profile the only part of him visible. Another photo was attached and showed his neck as proof that he didn’t bear any mating mark. Whoever was in charge of the photoshoot had dressed the man in a beige suit.
“It’s like fate.” O smiled at himself and undid the top button of his dress shirt. The one beneath the beige vest and suit jacket he wore.
The file was brief but held volumes of information tucked between lines of coded text. His eyes scanned over typed statements like, “synthetic omega” and “successful alteration”. The reason the omega on stage didn’t appear to be one was because he hadn’t been born to be.
Oberon had never fucked another alpha before…
The file said his name was Fenrir but left out the last name for obvious reasons.
His form beneath the silks was toned, powerful thighs on display as he knelt on stage, spine straight and chin raised pridefully.
He had a pretty face despite having been born an alpha, sharp edges, high cheekbones, and full, cherry red lips.
His eyes were a particular shade of orange that made O think of flames flickering in the fireplace on a cold winter evening.
Perhaps that was where he’d take him. Sprawled out on all fours, with nothing but the sound of crackling wood and the omega’s moans to fill the room as Oberon filled him. There was a serious appeal to that image.
To getting another alpha—even one who could no longer be considered alpha—to submit to him.
It helped that the man was already Oberon’s type.
Dark hair, golden complexion, and a clear attitude he was obviously trying to mask.
Fenrir probably fooled the rest of the crowd, but not him.
He may be an omega now, but there were obvious alpha traits left behind, and O wasn’t referring to the broad set of his shoulders or impressive height.
“Brought into the Wardrobe at fourteen,” he read quietly out loud. It listed Fenrir’s current age as twenty-five. That was a long time to be confined. Though his age made sense, since Rebirth experimentation hadn’t truly begun until around five years ago.
There was no listing of what round of the illegal drug he’d been given, but the success of his change from alpha to omega meant it had to have been Rebirth .
5 at least. The information the White Frost had gathered about the Wardrobe’s underground criminal machinations held no mention of participants surviving earlier formulas.
It didn’t really matter. The real question was whether or not Fenrir had agreed to becoming a guinea pig or if the choice had been taken from him.
Was he loyal to the Wardrobe?
Did it make any difference what the omega’s stance was if Oberon merely planned to fuck him a single time?
Heats could last for days, but there was little doubt in his mind that by the end of it, all of this bubbling curiosity he currently held toward the pretty thing on stage would be satiated.
“Sir, you’re getting a call from the Leviathan,” Claudio interrupted his thoughts.
“Hold it.” The auction had finally made its way to the alpha turned omega, which meant O had more pressing things to waste his time on than conversing with the Dominus of the White Frost.
“Sir.”
“Tell him I’m busy.”
There was a sigh, and then Claudio stepped away to answer the buzzing multi-slate.
Oberon was technically a member of the mafia, which meant he stood beneath the Dominus who led them.
However, they all knew there was nothing Levi could do to really punish O for ignoring one phone call.
The White Frost was at a point where Oberon’s wealth was no longer needed, but he liked to think the two of them had developed a friendship of sorts during the creation of the mafia.
It’d been thanks to him that Levi had been able to build legal businesses, after all.
Thanks to him, they’d been able to locate and rescue Levi around six months ago when he’d been kidnapped and tossed into an underground breeding program.
The Dominus owed him.
“We’ll start the bidding at twenty-five thousand coin,” the announcer below began, flinging his gavel out toward the crowd when several hands instantly went up.
Including Note Hex’s.
Whoever had selected the alpha-turned-omega’s garments had known what they were doing, and it was clear O hadn’t been the only one to notice how sumptuous the product promised to be.
Since Oberon deserved the best, there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d allow this prize to go to anyone else, but he waited, allowing the price to rise, giving those beneath him the chance to feel special, to feel close to winning.
“…going once!” the announcer grinned at Note, who’d just delivered a fairly high bid. “Going twice—”
Oberon leaned back in his seat and typed out a quick bid on the holopad he’d been given at the beginning.
With the press of a button, the screen at the back of the stage lit up, a clanging of bells ringing loudly to signal to the announcer and the audience that someone in the private booths had just added their paddle to the mix.
A round of gasps went out around the crowd when the number appeared, even the announcer gaped for a moment before collecting himself.
“Eleven million coin,” the announcer cleared his throat, and without even bothering to ask the crowd if anyone wanted to bid against that, slammed the gavel down. “Sold! We have a winner. Omega number five can be collected anytime after the auction or during the after-party.”
The original plan had been to enjoy the party.
Mingle a bit, make the most of what he’d anticipated being an only slightly less dull evening.
But no longer. For starters, now that’d he’d opted to purchase a heat, there was no way he’d be kicking it with these ruffians.
Orgies aside, he wasn’t partial to public sex, and there was no way he’d be claiming his prize in front of alphas who were already drooling over Fenrir.
There were still other omegas to be auctioned off, but his business was definitely done here. Waiting for the auction to end would be tedious, and Oberon found himself rising from his seat and exiting the booth without a second thought.
Just before he walked out, his eyes caught Fenrir’s, making note of the doubt swirling in that fiery gaze.
Oberon winked, chuckling when the omega flinched and made it obvious the message had been received. For one reason or another, his new bedpartner hadn’t wanted O to be the alpha who’d won him.
If his file was to be believed, Fenrir was used to disappointment.
“I assured the Leviathan you would report back as soon as you were free,” Claudio stated as the two of them fell into step in the hallway. “Would you like me to find a quiet room for you to do so?”
“Not now.” Oberon led them to the next level, quirking a brow when they were greeted by a set of bulky guards at the top of the stairs. “I’d like to get the handover done and out of the way.”