Chapter 3
THREE
KNOX
I knew what to expect. I attended these auctions sporadically so that my image remained intact, but it had been too long since I’d made a purchase. The last had been over a year before; a pretty Omega male in his twenties, but he hadn’t been spotted with me for a long time now. Long enough that an assumption of his demise wouldn’t be out of the question for most here.
I had a reputation for being extravagant, erratic and violent, and while tonight was motivated by none of the above, it did serve to maintain my image. An image I kept at the cost of everything else in this world that might have been mine: connection, sanity, even the very morality I slowly died to protect.
I was made of nothing but discipline and fury as I lingered in hell waiting for demons to drop their masks.
That drive was all I had left.
That, and watching the slow destruction of Rogue, to which I thought this must be the final nail in the coffin.
Beneath the canopy of overhanging trees, I watched as they brought her out.
The auctioneer, Patrick Christensen, and two bouncers were her escort. I leaned against the side of my limo, door open and waiting, as they hauled her toward me.
She should be the picture of subservience, bound and wearing a gown of white lace, sheer enough to reveal the strips of fabric barely covering her beneath.
A sweet little Omega doll, dressed to be fucked, with a chain around her neck.
But her straight, raven hair flew wildly about, and violet eyes burned as she struggled against the Alphas holding her. I cocked my head as I watched her fight, finding an unexpected reverence at fearlessness I knew wasn’t easy to come by from her vantage.
The cold concrete was frigid beneath my knees as I kept my eyes on the floor. An icy chain bound my throat. I didn’t hear their words, but I heard the metal clink as it was passed to another.
Silence and obedience… I’d had it beaten into me, and now I clung to that, a prayer that it would be enough to keep me safe.
Thistle Maverick, it seemed, had learned no such lesson, and I couldn’t rip my gaze away as the auctioneer drew up before me and offered a pathetic bow.
Thistle, however, froze as she neared.
Her own scent of frosted moonflower changed in an instant, from fear and fury to something completely different.
As she turned to me fully, eyes widening, I realised my view from the back of the auction room hadn’t done her justice.
She was small, a head shorter than me, and her vicious expression fell away, pale cheeks flushing, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest calmed as she caught Rogue’s scent. Mine was completely hidden now, and all that lingered between us was the faintest trace of honied bourbon from the handkerchief I’d taken from him.
Her reaction confirmed everything I’d hoped—a five-million-dollar gamble, but I had been right.
I had Rogue’s Omega.
Like kicking up leaves on a dry autumn day, the bid had been impulsive. A risk obscured by the thrill of the act itself.
Now I could see where they landed: at the feet of something I’d never dreamed I’d want. Yet, as rich, violet eyes pierced mine, I found myself wanting every secret they held.
“Uncuff her,” I murmured, not taking my eyes away. As the bouncer undid the metal around her wrists, she looked me up and down, head cocked with a possessive appraisal that made my blood hot. I noticed the way her eyes trailed the cracks in my knuckles, wounds barely closed from the violence I’d committed earlier.
“When she was brought to you, did she have anything with her?” I asked, not looking away from her.
For Alphas being sold, their belongings and clothing were stripped from them, but it was different with Omegas. The auctions kept what they could in case anything held significant meaning to the Omegas, nesting items, or other such keepsakes. There weren’t many Alphas here purchasing Omegas for gentler reasons—ones who intended to treat them right and build them a nest—but comforts could also be useful to temper behaviour. Omegas with one or two familiar items were far easier to manage.
The auctioneer nodded, handing me a black bag with a bit of bulk and not much weight to it. I turned, tossing it into the open door of the limo before returning to her.
She was captivating, and I found myself focused on the delicate band of metal around her neck, attached to the thin chain in one of the bouncer’s fists. I reached for it, biting back a growl at the idea of another Alpha holding that.
She watched the passage of that chain with intensity before her violet eyes returned to mine.
The white gown was sheer and almost entirely see-through, the cuffs of the sleeves tumbling to her knuckles, the hem draping the concrete. Beneath, was nothing but white lace. A floral bralette lifted her breasts, a garter belt was tight around her petite waist, covering a thong, and stockings that reached her upper thighs. All of it was strung together by lines of white gems that glittered in the faint moonlight. As I truly drank in the sight of her, my cock strained against my pants for the first time since I could remember.
The white made a mockery of an Omega with hands as blood-stained as hers, since we all knew Ace Maverick hadn’t just been killed—he’d been cut into pieces. If that wasn’t the hottest thing I’d ever imagined at the hands of this tiny little creature, I didn’t know what was.
I noticed the trace of a bite beneath the silver collar. The claim of the Alpha she’d killed. It might be a threat, to some, but my instincts saw nothing but a challenge.
I wanted that story from her, not because I was invested in the fate of Ace—I might be one of the few that didn’t hate him at all—but because I found something strangely fascinating about the look in her violet eyes. My pulse raced in a way it rarely did for anything but hunts like the one I’d had today.
She took another tentative step toward me, and I cupped her chin, tilting her head and examining her closer, and the feel of her skin set every hair on my body on end.
She was far, far beyond touch starved, and my own instinct, close to feral, shivered with need as my skin brushed hers. Her pupils blew, and I felt a rush of power different from anything I’d ever felt.
I smiled.
How easy would it be to make her completely and utterly dependent on me, if Ace had kept her this starved? Embracing this undercurrent of delight, I drank in every detail of one last thing of Rogue’s that I could break.
I’d never, before this moment, understood the draw of ownership. Of owning every smile, tear, or scream. A fresh slate, mine to do with whatever I wish.
I halted, reality slamming in.
This concept wasn’t new and never had been. I’d lived it—witnessed it every time I visited slices of hell like this, but never had it been true from a vantage like this.
Even my ownership of Rogue had been luck—luck, or misfortune, I wasn’t sure.
And yet, as my thumb brushed her lips and her breath halted, I wanted it to be. I needed Thistle Maverick to belong to me; my toy to use however I wanted, to ruin in every way, knowing that destruction was mine to witness, to keep or share however I wished.
Rogue would be the only witness to this, however, and by the time I was finished with her, he would see her crawling on her knees, begging me for that very destruction.
I faltered, frowning as I saw the piece that didn’t fit.
Her skin was pale as death, contrasted by blood-red lips; her face perfect and unblemished but for one mark. My thumb ran along her cheekbone, watching as faintest trace of makeup flaked away. She flinched as I rubbed at it again, confirming what I knew before I saw the shadow of a deep green bruise.
“Why is she marked?” I asked.
“Some of our employees were… invested,” Patrick said. “Maverick had a lot of enemies, and… admirers. She’s a stubborn one, though. Gave us nothing…” He trailed off with a nervous chuckle as I met his eyes at last.
“I don’t expect an Omega I buy to be tainted by others.”
Patrick’s face drained of colour, his lips thinning as his smile became tight. “My apologies. Is there anything I can do to amend the situation?”
“ Who marked her?”
Patrick’s eyes slid to the side as he adjusted his cuff uncomfortably, looking straight at one of the bouncers at his side. Taking a risk and dropping my hold on the thin chain that marked ownership of my new, ever so delightful little doll, I beckoned him.
“It was a mistake, sir,” the bouncer stammered, eyes darting to Patrick for help that he wouldn’t see, not in the face of a five-million-dollar client.
I said nothing, waiting patiently.
He would crack, hoping for mercy if he was deferent enough; I’d dealt with enough money-blinded fucks like this in my life to be sure.
Predictably, he took a step forward, and I looked down at his clammy hands. Which one had touched her?
Had he done more than bruise her?
As I dragged up what I knew of Ace and Thistle Maverick, I realised, as far as rumour went, the only Alphas who had ever put their hands on her were all dead. She’d had two other scent matches in Ace Maverick’s pack, but they’d been killed, which saved me a few violent visits.
I wouldn’t risk the trend here.
“Your watch,” I said quietly.
He looked down at his wrist, relief flooding his expression, and he was undoing the silver band in seconds. I took it, turning it and clipping it shut again before slipping it around my knuckles to examine it. I shifted half a step back, hearing his exhale as he opened his mouth to say something.
He never got to, because I slammed my fist (and his watch) straight into his face. I heard a crack, and he dropped in an instant. I seized his hair and brought my knee up to his nose to another dull crack and a groan of pain.
The trip I’d made with Rogue earlier, it hadn’t been enough, and the world bled red. Only this time, my instincts were fuelled by the lingering scent of frosted moonflower as I dropped onto his chest.
This was only the beginning.
Blood sprayed everywhere, the watch re-opening the wounds on my knuckles as I let the fury burn itself out, fist smashing into his face over and over.
By the time I staggered to my feet, there wasn’t anything recognisable about the Alpha, shivering and groaning on the concrete.
An Alpha who had touched what was mine.
I exhaled, calm washing in faster with her scent on the breeze. Then I tugged the gun from my side, cocked it, and put a bullet in his thigh.
His screech of agony was a shot of adrenaline in my veins.
I’d meant to go straight for the head, but something held me back. The little thrum of rage that he’d touched her was shockingly powerful for a toy I’d claimed only minutes before, but this thrill was a rush like I’d never felt.
I rolled my shoulders, taking a breath, then felt the faintest brush on my hand. The one unmarred.
My gaze locked with violet eyes, and she was looking up at me with bottomless curiosity and… hope?
I don’t know what guided me, but I knew what she wanted. Without even considering it, I flipped the gun and held it to her.
It was a risk, but I was one who liked playing the odds. I’d seen how she’d fought on that stage, how she’d snarled at her guards as the scent match locked in, and I don’t think she would even consider killing me.
Her eyes dropped to it, lips parted for a long second before her face broke out in the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen.
When the gun was in her hands, however, she paused. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the auctioneer tense, his dull liquorice scent spiking in fear. Thistle’s eyes slid to him too. Then she glanced back at me, as if hedging her bets—and I swear I saw a flash of rebellion in them. I hoped I had, because I would have a lot of fun with discipline if she believed she had an ounce of wiggle room with me. My mind was already spinning a thousand plans for that perfect little body of hers.
But then she put a bullet in the bleeding Alpha’s skull with barely a glance his way.
A violent craving seized me, and before I knew it her neck was in my bloody fist and I dragged her close, my lips crushing hers with more passion than I’d ever known I possessed.
This Omega was mine, and no longer was it just about the anticipation of making Rogue watch me break her.
I needed to see what ruin looked like in those beautiful violet eyes.