11. Chapter 11 #2
Once we get downstairs, Erasmus marches in front of me, bodies parting to let him through.
Tristan is beside me, holding me up. The pungent odour of too many alphas crowds me, and I try not to gag.
Their desire ratchets up as I stumble along, and the part of me that can still think knows it’s my fault—what omega is this far gone at auction? I’m a fucking mess.
I inhale in short breaths, trying to find the one scent that will make me feel better. My eyes heat—he’s not here. But he’s safe, and that’s good. I got him safe.
Tristan hauls me up to a platform beside the bar. “Can you stand?” he murmurs.
I nod my head quickly. I can. I fucking will.
A crackle bursts through the room. The microphone.
I blink and make out Benji below me. The fanfare around the auctions is minimal—the alpha we’re contracted to runs it and the highest bidder takes the omega to their room, the end.
Or, in the case of Troy Whitman’s omegas, one of the alphas who works here runs it.
The Whitmans might own us, and in the case of Phillip and William, use us liberally, but they’re invisible to the public, using the rear exits and pre-prepared rooms to see prearranged omegas, conducting business during the day when the place is empty of clients.
“You’re going to be okay,” Tristan whispers to me, giving my shoulders a final squeeze before stepping away.
I sway, but manage to catch myself before I fall on my face.
Clenching my fists at my sides, I tighten every muscle in my body as best I can.
My mating gland throbs under the thick leather collar around my throat.
It feels wrong, but my rational mind—what’s left of it—is so grateful for it.
Being fucked through my heat by a random alpha was an indignity I would manage to get through, but to be claimed by one? I’d rather fucking die.
“Welcome, welcome,” Benji says heartily, the projection of his voice startling me back to the room. He’s jovial with it, always is—proud, as if he had some hand in creating me. I shudder.
Benji begins the usual spiel—my name, height, weight, how long I’ve been here, how many heats I’ve had, and how long they lasted—and then he gets the bidding started at five hundred dollars. It’s insultingly low, but I know that’ll increase to one thousand pretty quickly.
One thousand is the lowest an omega in heat will go for.
Most of the older omegas are sold at that price, while Erasmus had gone for fifteen thousand before, with the rest of us falling somewhere in between.
My first had gone for ten thousand, the other two eight thousand and seven thousand respectively.
I prepare myself to stand as still as I can for the humiliation of this round, which will probably go to five thousand, maximum.
I’m under a spotlight, which makes it impossible to make out any faces in the dark crowd around me. Usually, at this point, I wish for someone who’s at least not rough, not a talker—I can tolerate anything else, but pain and insults add to my suffering in ways I wish I was better at handling.
Breathing through my mouth helps me not vomit. The room is filled with the stench of alphas, and my omega is screaming at me that this is wrong, wrong, wrong.
I drop my gaze to my bare feet and blink back tears.
The bidding has reached five thousand. Tension snaps back into my body as I wait for the gavel to fall.
“Six,” rings out a voice from the back. It’s deep, confident … It’s fucking angry.
My head whips up and I try to see into the fog of darkness.
“Seven,” the voice that’d called out “five” says, their tone bored.
“Eight,” Leo counters immediately. It’s him, unmistakably him.
“Nine,” that voice retorts, a slight irritation in it now.
But Leo doesn’t miss a beat. “Ten.”
I swallow. Ten thousand dollars. Leo shouldn’t spend that kind of money—
“Eleven,” a new voice pipes up, the sound of it suddenly interested, as if the bidding war suggests something more is going on with the plain, trembling omega on the stage.
“Twelve,” Leo says.
“Thirteen,” the second voice shouts.
“Fourteen,” the new voice rejoins, laughter in it.
“Fifteen,” Leo calls out, steel entering his tone.
I gasp. I am not a fifteen thousand dollar omega.
“Some baby alpha thinks he’s getting something special, eh?” the second voice calls out, and everyone laughs.
“Fifteen, going, going—”
“Sixteen,” the second voice says.
Leo can’t possibly keep going now, he hasn’t got that kind of money, and he shouldn’t spend it on me—
“Twenty,” Leo says. He’s furious, but I hear his resolve too. It makes me slick up more even though I’m aghast.
The second voice laughs. “Baby alphas. Have at it.”
And then Benji’s callin it and the gavel strikes the sound block and oh my God, Leo just paid twenty thousand dollars for me.
He’s crazy. I’m going to tell him not to do this, to save his money.
I’ve got all the right arguments forming in my head, but when he appears out of the darkness, his face is a thundercloud, and yet his eyes are so full of concern, it’s all I can do not to launch myself into his arms.
He’s waylaid by Benji before he reaches me. Rules, Benji will be explaining the rules. Settling payment. Tristan is beside me again, murmuring for me to follow.
“But Leo …”
“He’ll be right up,” Tristan says, and there’s a tightness to his tone I don’t understand. I’m sinking. Sweat coating my skin, slick sliding down my thighs. I need Leo now. I need him inside me. I need him to claim me.
“Leo,” I whine.
“Keep your voice down,” Tristan hisses against my ear.
I don’t understand what he’s pissed about, but he smells of fear. I need to comfort him. I can’t. All I can do is let myself be dragged back up the stairs, lowered onto the couch.
“Oh boy,” Tristan says with feeling.
I blink and try to focus on him. It’s impossible—my hole is aching painfully, my rational mind floating away on the haze of need.
“You’re lucky Benji didn’t remember him,” Tristan is saying.
And then the smell of the ocean crashes into the room. I look up. Leo is in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes wild.
“Addie,” he says on a rush of air, the deepness of his voice skating all over my body.
I try to form his name with my mouth, but what comes out is a high-pitched moan as my hole slicks up more and my mating gland throbs under the collar.
I think Tristan leaves. All I can see is Leo. He crosses the room in two quick steps, and he hauls me up and against his chest. I shove my nose against his throat and inhale the ocean, the rolling waves of lust-desire-anger pummelling me.
My scent spikes at the anger—have I upset him? Does he not want me?
Leo pulls back, nips my ear, and speaks against it, wetting the lobe. “You have nothing to fear, baby. I’m here, I’m here. I’m going to mate you, get you out of here. I’m here.”
I whine and press myself as close as I can. He’s going to claim me. My alpha is going to mate me. I want to say, “Now? Please, now. Inside me, then bite me,” but my voice isn’t working.
He doesn’t need me to speak, he knows what I need—my feet are going out from under me before I can force my words to work, to beg, and I’m in Leo’s arms, moving toward my nest.
He lowers me down so gently, but I don’t need gentle.
I reach for his pants, try to get my fingers to work, to get him out, get him inside me.
I’m dripping, I’m empty, I’m aching—can’t he smell it?
Why isn’t he helping me? I don’t think I’ve ever been this forward in heat, but Leo’s scent, Leo’s body bracketed above me, is driving me crazy.
Leo huffs a laugh—it’s a kind sound. I blink and try to focus on his face. He’s smiling. And his hand, when it strokes down the side of my face, is so reverent I feel my eyes well with tears. He’s here, Leo’s here. He bought me. He’s here.
“No, baby, no,” Leo says, his smile slipping. “I’ll take care of you, I promise. I’ll be so good to you. I wanted to court you first, but if this is the only way, then I’ll claim you, get you out of here, and then … then I’ll make it up to you.”
His words are like foam on top of a wave, drifting by but impossible to pin down. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I know I need him.
My hand trails down and I grip his throbbing cock over the material. Leo bucks forward with a gasp.
“Okay, talk later,” Leo says and chuckles.
He sits back and I whimper at the loss. Leo yanks his shirt over his head, smile heated when he emerges. He’s undoing his pants. I reach down for my own and try to wriggle them off. Leo stops me with a hand on my wrist.
“Let me,” he says shakily. “Just give me one second.”
I think I nod, and bite my lip to stop myself from screaming.
I don’t have one second. Leo reaches down and gets his boots off, then pants, before he moves back over me.
Something glints in his hand, but he’s placing it under the pillows of my nest before I can be sure I saw anything.
His hands run up my chest, under the material of my shirt.
I throw my head back and whimper, squirming under his touch. Those hands, so big, so warm, envelope my bare skin. He pulls the shirt up and over my head. His hands run back down my chest, my stomach, teasing the dip above my waistband.
I’m panting so hard, I think I might hyperventilate. Another pulse of slick rushes out of me when he pops the top button.
“Please,” I manage, hushed between us.
“Oh, God, Addie. You don’t have to beg me for this,” Leo says and makes short work of getting my pants undone, tugging them over my hips and off.
I open my legs as soon as I’m free, tilt my hips up, presenting for him. It’s better to present on my hands and knees, but I want to see his face. I need to see his face.
Leo swallows hard. I flick my eyes down to his hand on his massive cock. He’s stroking it slowly. I meet his eyes again. He’s looking at me like he can’t believe I’m real. He’s all heat, but there’s something nervous in his gaze too.
I reach my hand up and wrap my palm around his nape, pulling him down to kiss me.