Chapter 1 #2
“Octavian Jones, you open this door right now. You hear me? Open this door right now and let us in or else—”
“Allow me.”
My stomach drops at the deep voice on the other side of the door. A deep, guttural octave that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
He sounds big.
Big and dangerous.
“Octavian,” he says as the knob turns a little harder. “Son, let us in. We just want to talk.”
Yeah, okay, sure. They just want to talk.
And I’m going to sprout wings and fly myself right out of the third floor window.
I keep walking backward as they both shout through the wood, each of them losing their patience one word at a time and when my back is to the wall and I have nowhere else to go, a loud thud rattles my door from locks to hinges.
My heart starts racing as I push my glasses up my nose, watching in horror as the alpha in the hall starts throwing himself at the door, his weight splintering the wood more with each hit until the chain lock busts.
The deadbolt is next, nearly shooting through the hole it’s screwed into and after a few more hard hits, my new padlock breaks like a twig off of a dead tree and the light from the hall spills into my room.
”You’re going to pay for that,” Mandy hisses as she pushes the chair out of the way and marches toward me. She grabs my arm, her nails digging into my flesh hard enough to draw blood. “You just earned another hour.”
She shoves me toward the bed, her anger hitting a new height when I refuse to get onto the worn out mattress, one that causes her to screech in rage before she grabs the collar of my button down pajama top and rips it down the middle.
Mandy tosses it on the torn blankets before pushing me down hard enough to make my head snap back on my neck, dazing me a little before she climbs on top of me, her knees pinning my shoulders as she sits on my chest.
“Another hour, and the VIP treatment.” She grabs my wrist and shoves it toward the wall, wrenching my arm to get the restraint in the right position. Mandy moves to do the same to my other wrist but the dangerous tone stops her.
“Not both,” he says as his shadow looms over me. “He’s going to need one free, and I want to be able to move him around.”
My stomach twists and rolls as Mandy—my own mother—giggles up at him, batting her false lashes before quickly moving down my body, taking my pajama bottoms with her.
I immediately use my free hand to cover myself, desperate to look away from their analytical stares, knowing darn well if I do, it’ll be a death sentence.
Mandy stands next to the alpha, looking between him and I a few times before she asks, “Is the product quality to your liking?”
Tears instantly spring to my eyes, the same way they always do when she asks that question, but I don’t let them run free.
I learned a long time ago that some alphas like when I break. Some alphas want me to cry and scream, to beg and plead for them to leave me alone, and I won’t give any of them that satisfaction again.
The large man steps up to the side of the bed, his eyes moving from my head all the way to my bare feet, stopping periodically to look a little harder at something, and I’d rather not know what.
“I could do without the cigarette burns,” he grunts as he starts to unbutton his shirt. Him and I both. “And the glasses have to go.”
Mandy scurries toward the head of the bed and snatches them off my face, tossing my only pair across the room as she looks to him for approval. “Problem solved.”
The alpha chuckles as he pulls his arms out of his sleeves and drops the starch white fabric to the floor. “For now. If I find any other flaws—“
“There aren’t any,” she blurts. “I swear it. Only the cigarette burns. His skin is perfect otherwise, and I make sure there’s enough time between dates for anything else to heal up good. That’s why I guarantee the first time experience.”
Every time is like the first time. Young, fit, nearly flawless, and he won’t say a word. The perfect date. A guaranteed virgin experience each time you buy.
I swallow the vomit that races up my throat as her horrible pitch plays inside my head.
It’s the only time Mandy tells the truth.
When she’s selling me to the highest bidder.
“Good,” the man grunts as he starts to unbuckle his belt. “You can leave us, now.”
“I usually stay.” Mandy looks between us again, what I’d almost call nerves creeping into her tone. “I like to make sure everything goes well, that you get the best experience possible.”
She stays to make sure no one goes too far and kills me, or decides they want to take me with them when they’re through. This is a business, after all, and she likes to keep an eye on her product. That’s the only reason she stays. That and it ensures she gets paid at the end.
I’d hate to think it was for some other reason, like she actually enjoys watching alphas abuse her son. Despite how much I hate her, I’d like to think even someone as evil as her wouldn’t think like that.
“Not tonight.” The man glances at her as he drops his pants, his hand moving to his penis that seems to already be hard. “Tonight, you leave us, and you sit outside in the hallway like the obedient little crack whore you are.”
Mandy watches as he kneels on the bed, moving toward me before straddling my chest the same way my mother had, and despite her hesitance, she nods and backs through the busted door then turns out the hall light.
“Your mom said you’re a really good kid, son.” He scoots until his knees are in my armpits and all I can smell is the volatile scent of his arousal. “Now open your mouth and show me how good you can really be.”