ELIANO #3
Now I feel less optimistic, though not completely down. After all, I am young and healthy. I know I will find some kind of job. The real question is whether I will vibe with it. But that is secondary, and I should not be picky. The most important thing right now is finding something to eat.
The damned alpha’s high-calorie needs…
In front of the building, a massive line of people waits to enter the hall where alphas, betas, and omegas offer their marriage contracts for sale, and where auctions take place when multiple candidates compete for the same contract.
The line is extremely long. I doubt I could get in this way, but maybe there is a back entrance, or a side door for staff.
I circle the building and notice a fenced-off area at the back where a group of elegantly dressed people are standing.
They look like contractees, at least that’s my guess. They are separated from the rest by tall barriers. There is no open entrance here, the only door is guarded.
I mutter a curse under my breath.
How do I get inside? Maybe I should try the administrative building. It is damaged, sure, but maybe someone is still sitting at the reception desk.
I am just about to head that way when I notice a small door behind the fenced section, next to a row of dumpsters. The door opens, and a short beta comes out, pushing a cart loaded with tied garbage bags.
From a distance, a pleasant smell hits my nose. Bread rolls, broccoli soup, some kind of fruit.
Damn it. There must be a cafeteria inside, and maybe this is where employees dump the leftovers.
I crouch behind a line of parked cars and watch as the guy throws the bags into the dumpster.
Have I really fallen so low that I am considering eating food from the trash?
Hunger twists my gut. It is probably fresh leftovers from agency clients’ plates. Is this really a good idea? Yesterday, I would not even have considered it. Today, I feel like I’m dying, and it overwrites rational thought.
When the beta leaves, I make sure no one is nearby, glancing around quickly. I still have my pride, hello.
Walking up casually to the dumpster, I grab the two bags he just threw out. I position myself behind the container so people from the fenced area cannot see me.
I open the first bag. It is heavy, and it does contain food waste, but it is such a disgusting mix that I cannot bring myself to dig through it.
Mashed potatoes, dense soup mixed with cookie crumbs, fruit, half-eaten tomatoes, bits of bread, remnants of jelly and pudding, all blended into one revolting mass.
The intense smell of mixed food hits my nose hard. I am an alpha, after all. My sense of smell is like that of a bloodhound.
I open the second bag, only to be disappointed again. Broken cups and paper plates, tissues, dirty wooden cutlery.
I curse under my breath, "Minchia, chi puzza!" (Fuck, that stinks!)
But hunger has its claws way too deep in me, and I look back at the first bag, wondering if I could fish out a piece of tomato from the sticky jelly mess.
That is when I hear something…
"You are not so desperate that you are actually going to eat that, are you?"
The voice comes from right behind me.
I jump in place and drop the bag, its contents spilling across the ground, releasing a wave of strong smells.
"Ugh!" The man steps closer and gazes down at the mess. "That doesn’t look very appetizing."
I turn toward him.
His face seems vaguely familiar, though I cannot place it. It might just be my imagination.
What I do know is that he is enormous, incredibly tall and broad like a purple alpha. When I glance at his hands, I notice thin gloves covering them, which makes it hard to tell whether he has the distinctive lines typical of purples.
His intensely turquoise eyes, almost blazing, lock onto my face as his full lips curl into a faint smile.
"So," he says lightly, "what kind of life trouble brings you to the point where you’re digging through a trash can, boy?"
He suddenly cuts himself off.
His eyes narrow slightly, locking onto my face, and a wave of fear rolls through me.
Could he possibly recognize me? I was always careful, avoiding tabloids, interviews and photographs, making sure I couldn’t be easily linked to that damn family. But of course, photos taken by cage-fighting fans are out there online for any martial arts enthusiast willing to dig.
And he’s staring at me like he sees something familiar.
I take a step back. He jolts slightly, as if shaking off a strange impression, then speaks again.
"Listen. Let me buy you breakfast. The cafeteria has great food."
I retreat another step. "I don’t know. The last offer I got came with a blowjob demand attached, and I don’t play those games, so thanks but no thanks."
He rolls his eyes.
"Don’t worry about it. I have my wonderful True Mate. That’s not what this is about. It’s just a friendly gesture."
"Riiight," I murmur skeptically. "I doubt something like that even exists, so if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way."
"Wait. Okay, I’ll tell you the truth," he says after a brief hesitation. "But only if you come to the cafeteria with me and we talk calmly over a nice, warm, delicious burger. All right? I have a small matter where you could help me."
"Does it involve any sexual services?" I double-check, unable to keep the suspicion out of my voice.
He chuckles. "Gosh! Nothing like that. You’re a looker, for sure, but I’m forever taken, True Mate. Remember!"
"All right," I say, still wary. "But fair warning: if you, or anyone else, try anything, I’m not an easy opponent. I’ve fought purple alphas before." I probably sound like a little boy in a sandbox, threatening another kid with a plastic sword.
He flashes a wide grin and extends his hand.
"No worries. I’m Storm." For a moment, he seems to be waiting for me to introduce myself too, but I stay silent. "Come on. I can hear your stomach growling from here. We’ll talk, and there will be no fighting and definitely no sex. You don’t have to worry about that."
Still not entirely convinced, I decide to follow him. I have nothing to lose anyway, and maybe I really will get that burger. Just the word makes my mouth fill with saliva.
Storm leads me through a second set of doors near the section with metal barriers.
The security guards let us pass without a word, no reaction at all. Is the giant an employee here? But I do not ask.
Moments later, we find ourselves in a fairly busy corridor with doors branching off in every direction, but I have only one thing on my mind. The smell of food drifting toward me from somewhere ahead. The cafeteria must be close.
And it is. Soon, we are there.
The place is packed with people, crowding together, talking loudly. But I would wait hours for my food if I had to. I swallow hard, my gaze locked on the meals displayed in the glass cases, while Storm studies me.
A vertical crease appears between his brows, as if he is debating what to say next. I do not ask anything. However this conversation turns out, I will probably have to refuse him, so I would rather not start talking yet.
We stand in line, and finally reach the counter.
I scan the menu and find a panini-style burger, which looks decent.
Storm orders it for me, double. Surprisingly, they also have minestrone soup and a salad that vaguely reminds me of the ones I used to eat every day, with tomatoes, olives, cheese, and olive oil. Oh Diu bonu! (Oh my God!)
It all looks… edible! I stare at the tray as if he were offering me gold.
At last we find a free table in a more distant part of the cafeteria. It’s near the railings that separate this section from the stream of people heading toward the halls, where desperate dreamers of all subgenders put their marriage contracts up for sale.
We sit down, and I immediately attack the food. I shove huge bites into my mouth, barely chewing before swallowing. My dear Fate! The sensation of food sliding down my throat is pure bliss. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and only then do I lift my eyes to Storm.
He is watching me closely, one hand lightly rubbing his chin. His eyes are narrowed, intense.
Does he wear contact lenses? No one should have eyes that bright. They look like they are glowing with fluorescent turquoise.
All right. Now that the edge of my hunger is gone, I can finally ask what this giant wants.
"So. Talk."
"You see, I’m a purple alpha."
Uhum.
"Shocker," I mutter, since it sounds bizarre. People do not usually introduce themselves like that. Most people do not just talk about their subgender or subtype. This is weird.
"And I have a rather specific talent, which is why I work here, at this matchmaking agency."
I turn my attention to the salad, scooping up generous spoonfuls.
Storm watches my plate for a moment before continuing.
"My gift is that I can see who someone’s True Mate is. All I need is to see their face, or to have seen it in the past."
I freeze, my spoon of tomato slices suspended just in front of my mouth. I have no idea whether he is joking or what this is supposed to be, but for now I decide to stay quiet. I want to see where this strange monologue leads.
"This weekend alone, I’ve already found two True Mates for my clients," he says calmly. "And just now, I found the True Mate for a third one."
I lift my eyes.
Wait. What did he just say?