ELIANO
Storm rubs his chin lightly as he studies me with focused attention. He looks hesitant, as if whatever he wants to say carries a solid weight.
Finally, he continues,
"You see, I have a contractee under my care, and he’s here on special terms. A very peculiar person. Maybe not the easiest to deal with at first glance, but… if someone is another person’s True Mate, then clearly that wouldn’t be a problem, right?"
I stay silent, finishing my salad. All that’s left is the soup.
I plan to eat it quickly and get out of here.
This guy feels a little strange. Everyone knows you can’t recognize someone’s True Mate just by looking.
That only happens through smell or sex. Other than that, there’s nothing obvious that gives it away.
Still, as long as he’s talking, I can keep eating.
"My talent," he says, "is that I can see a specific aura color shared by True Mates. I had the chance to observe my client’s aura all day Saturday, and I’m honestly shocked, because I see the exact same shade in your aura. Down to the smallest nuance of hue. It’s striking!"
I start on the soup, ignoring him. It’s properly hot, but I blow on it and take spoonful after spoonful. Storm watches me with raised eyebrows.
"You don’t have to rush. I can buy you another meal."
"Sorry, but I can’t stay. I’m looking for work.
If your company needs someone to hand out flyers, I’d be happy to help, but…
" Well, it has to be said. I owe him honesty. "If your client is here to find himself a rich husband, then sorry, I’m not a good candidate. I’m homeless.
And that’s without even getting into whether I believe in that whole True Mate thing at all," I mutter.
If he tells me to leave now, I’m already full. Worst case, I can skip the rest of the soup.
He watches me in silence, almost scrutinizing me. I keep my face calm.
"I’d like you to simply see him. Maybe you’ll feel something. There’s just this thing… He’s a beta. It’s one of the rare cases where a beta is paired with an alpha as a True Mate, so it surprised me too, but… there’s no doubt this is one of those instances."
I snort. "What? A beta and an alpha as fated mates? I’ve never even heard of that."
Storm straightens in his chair.
"It’s rare, but possible. After the First Touch, the beta usually undergoes a transformation into a beta with omega characteristics. He develops subtle heats, can become pregnant, and starts producing Allure. Even his hearing improves."
I’m slowly losing patience with his spiel. It sounds ridiculous.
"Look, man, cool story. Really interesting. I’m sure it would fascinate someone.
But I’m in a pretty rough spot in my life.
You could call it a turning point," I say, baring my teeth in a strained grin.
"I can’t afford to get distracted by… you know, fairytale stories like this.
Finding a husband is very low on my list of priorities.
Finding a job and shelter are my top two priorities. "
Storm leans back slightly and crosses his broad arms over his chest.
"You don’t seem to understand what I’m telling you. What’s your name, anyway?"
"I understand what I need to understand. And my name doesn’t matter. I’m about to leave. Thanks for the food. I listened to what you had to say, but I’m finishing this soup, and then off I go."
He lets out a low, restrained rumble, a sound in the AO language that signals impatience.
"You still don’t get it, kid. That man is your True Mate.
Should I spell it out?" He leans slightly forward, almost threateningly.
"Letting an opportunity like this go is insane. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime thing.
The perfect person for you. A chance at love and happiness, at longevity and health, at everything people dream of. "
Intently, I mirror his posture, leaning forward a bit and crossing my arms over my chest.
"Yeah… So you work here, Storm, right? Some kind of handler for those contractees? Let me guess. The company tosses you a bonus for peddling this magical nonsense and patching together matches at any cost. Then what? People sign and end up hating each other? Yeah, no thanks. I’m not buying it."
I push my jaw forward defiantly. Maybe I didn’t grow up on the streets, and most of what I know comes from movies and TV shows, but I’m not stupid enough to swallow fantasy stories about True Mates falling from the skies.
Storm exhales sharply in irritation. He pulls out his wallet, takes out a hundred-dollar bill, and places it on the table.
My eyes lock onto the money.
"Okay, let’s talk specifics. You get a hundred dollars if you come with me, stand in front of him, and shake his hand. That’s it. Easy money. If you decide it’s all nonsense, if he repulses you, you just walk away. Deal? Easiest hundred bucks you’ll ever make."
His jaw tightens slightly.
The bill lies between us like an exclamation mark.
What now? I stare at the money. It’s right there, tempting. Damn. That’s several days of solid food, and a real chance to look for proper work. Maybe I could even buy a ticket and finally get out of this damn city.
Looking at some guy costs me nothing.
I reach out and place my hand on the bill. Storm immediately pins my hand down with a quick movement.
"You look at him, shake his hand, stay patient and calm in his presence. He’s a unique person, showcasing his contract under very… specific conditions."
I pull my hand back, but at the same time I take the hundred-dollar bill.
"What kind of specific conditions? Do you have to be so mysterious? Or is that part of the marketing trick to hook me?"
I’m almost proud of my vigilance. After getting played by Bush, there’s no way I’m walking into another shady situation. I’ll question everything, examine every detail, analyze every suspicious aspect. There’s always a catch somewhere.
"Yeah, well. Salt has been convicted of murder."
"The fuck?!"
"Listen. It’s a very gray case, and there are strong arguments that he acted while temporarily insane, under extreme emotional distress.
His case drew the attention of the Second Chance program, which offers convicted felons the option to put a marriage contract up for sale.
This program is reserved for first-time offenders, giving them a chance at a normal life, of course, with an ankle monitor. "
"But… a criminal?" I let out a bitter laugh and lean closer, lowering my voice with dark amusement. "Listen! The precise reason I’m here right now, is that I ran away from a family involved in crime. Heavy, heavy crime! I’m trying to cut myself off from that life. I don’t want to be anywhere near someone who chose that path.
And I seriously doubt he’s my True Mate.
The way I imagine mine, he’s a law-abiding, sweet person who stays far away from trouble. "
Storm’s jaw clenches.
"Fine. Then give me back the hundred dollars," he says flatly. "And leave. But you’ll regret passing up this chance, because that man truly is your True Mate. And the fact that Salt is here doesn’t mean he’s a hardened criminal.
He made one serious mistake in his life.
It happens. Everyone ends up at a crossroads sometimes, don’t they? "
I narrow my eyes, looking at the piece of paper in my hand. It could really mean escape from this damn, dirty city, far away from my sick family.
"Alright! Fine! I’ll smile politely, take a look at the guy, and then I’m out," I concede.
Storm grins and claps.
"Excellent!"
I gape. "Seriously, your enthusiasm is weird. Don’t you see the problems here? I’ll spell it out for you: I’ve got no money, no home, and that’s usually a basic requirement for these kinds of contracts. Rich people buy them, right?"
He shrugs. "The program Salt is in… works a little differently. Don’t worry about that right now."
I press my lips together and slip the money into my pocket.
"Alright then. Let’s go." I flash a wide smile only superficially cheerful.
Storm tilts his head slightly before speaking again.
"What I told you is rock solid. That man is your fated mate, whether you want to believe it or not. I’m absolutely certain of it. If you walk out of there carelessly, you’ll lose an enormous chance in life."
"Yeah, yeah, got it, man. Take me to the hall where he is." I don’t want to listen to his ‘passionate’ sales pitch anymore. "Let’s just get this over with."
I stand up, finishing the last spoonful of soup at the same time. The tray is now empty.
Storm stands as well, towering over me.
That vertical crease is still there on his forehead, like he’s afraid I’ll bolt with his money.
He watches me closely. But I’m not about to run. I plan to earn that hundred dollars honestly. Taking a look at some guy is no big deal, right?
We leave the cafeteria. On the left, there is a wide entrance leading to the section where omegas showcase their contracts, but we pass it by.
Next in line is a large area where alphas have come to look for buyers for their own contracts.
From what I’ve heard in the past, these places are full of young guys hoping for wealthy omegas in their forties, people who built their own fortunes and decided it was time to start a family later in life.
They can offer them their youth and their bodies for ten or twenty years and then leave with a small fortune and…
buy themselves a young omega’s contract instead.
That’s how it works. Maybe everybody is happy about the cycle.
Everybody gets a taste of a young body at a certain point in their life. Money rules everything, right?
At the very end is the smallest section. Only betas are here, and this is where we are headed.
Completely on instinct, without even thinking about it, I run my fingers through my hair, then remember it is neatly trimmed and does not really need much care right now. I admit that washing it with gas station soap probably did not give it any silky texture, but it does not look that bad either.