10. Delilah
Chapter ten
King looks at me expectantly as I try to gather my words, all the while looking out for any staff members who might be watching us or could overhear. When I know for sure that the coast is clear, I let out a long sigh.
“Once a month, the omegas here who are basically finished with their treatment plans are dolled up for an evening with donors,” I mutter.
King stiffens beside me, his scent turning a little bitter.
But noticeably, and only for a split second, he doesn’t look surprised by that information, but angry.
Though I can’t get more of a read on him as the expression vanishes.
“I can’t imagine it’s just to enjoy their company before the omegas go on their merry way. ”
“Well…” I trail off, chewing my bottom lip.
“I need you to say it out loud, luv. What happens to the omegas at that party?” King asks in a low dangerous whisper.
I glance up at him out of the corner of my eye, swallowing hard. He’s never pushed like this before, and I’ve never seen him look this serious.
“The donors…well, it’s not official or anything, but if an omega catches their attention, they will go home with the alpha and their pack, if they have one. In exchange for a generous sum gifted to the facility.”
King winces suddenly like someone shouted in his ear, and I look up at him in concern.
“Calm the fuck down, Jesus. I’ll ask,” he mutters, rubbing at his left ear.
“Who are you talking to, King?” I ask, leaning away slightly and narrowing my eyes.
King flashes me a charming smile. “First, you can call me Joker, luv. All my friends do.”
I nod, not sure what to do with that information. I eye him warily as I wait for him to go on.
“Second, if I told you who I was talking to, then I’d have to share you, and I’m not ready for that just yet,” King, Joker, says with a wink.
“If you’re hearing voices, they have medicine for that,” I say, only half joking.
He throws his head back, laughing like a mad man, the arm around my shoulders tightening until he’s got me pressed against his side. He’s warm, almost radiating heat despite the cool air around us.
“You’re adorable, little wisp. But don’t you worry your wee head about me and my voices. We’ll be just fine. Who gets chosen for the auctions, by the way?”
Joker switches topics fast enough to make my head spin, and I blink at him for a moment before clearing my throat.
“It’s usually people who have mostly or fully recovered,” I say.
Joker hums and pauses. “And why aren’t people returned to their families?” he asks.
I sigh, my heart squeezing slightly with empathy for my fellow patients.
“That’s the thing, Joker. If you’re in here, you really don’t have a family.
Most of the omegas have either been rejected, or never came into their designation fully, or lost their mates,” I reply, starting strong but finishing in a tiny whisper.
I jump as Joker leans over and kisses my hairline softly. “I’m sorry, luv,” he whispers.
I’m so taken aback by the tenderness in his voice that I don’t speak for a long moment. This omega met me less than a week ago, and he’s already shown more sympathy to me than anyone in this hellhole. And he doesn’t even know anything specific.
“What about you? Did your pack…” I trail off as I look at him.
The smile he gives me in return is both warm and sad in ways I’m not sure I fully understand.
“That’s a sad story for another time, luv. But I’ll tell you my story one day. Promise,” he says gently.
A little piece of my heart melts as I nod then lean my head on his shoulder, relaxing with a sigh.
Omegas are naturally touchy-feely, though it’s not something actively encouraged outside of specific times.
Having this physical contact with Joker soothes the last of my frayed nerves from that insane “therapy” session.
“How long have you been in here?” he asks into the comfortable silence.
“Almost six months.”
“Is that normal?”
I shake my head. “Most people either get transferred to another facility, or ‘graduate’ within two or three months. My case is different.”
“So you’ve had to endure six months of the shit they’re reflexively calling food? God, you poor thing,” he says dramatically, clutching me hard to his chest with both arms.
I laugh, something I find myself doing more and more since he arrived.
“It’s not all that bad. If they ever serve burgers, those are actually pretty decent,” I say generously.
Joker makes a gagging noise, which only makes me laugh more.
“I know someone who makes the best food in the world, bar none. And you’ll say the same thing once you meet him,” Joker says.
I blink at his odd phrasing, but before I get to answer, Claire walks up with a disapproving frown on her face.
“You two better not be getting up to anything out here,” she says, trying to scold us but I can tell her heart isn’t in it.
“Me? Trouble? Never! We’ve been perfect angels,” Joker answers, smiling wide enough to show his perfect teeth and the hint of dimples.
I contain my snort, and he shoots me a playful glare before turning back to Claire.
“It’s time for lunch. They’re serving tacos,” she says, trying to feign excitement.
Joker gives me an exasperated look as she turns her back and walks away. I pull Joker to his feet and keep hold of his hand all the way to lunch.
Later that evening, Joker and I are lounging on a couch by my favorite window, me at one end reading one of the few books we're allowed to have here, him stretched out across the other cushions, his head in my lap. He’d assumed this position a while ago, not that I’d had a choice in the matter.
But it does allow me to occasionally play with his hair, which sets him to purring like a diesel engine.
Movement near us draws our attention, and my stomach drops.
Drake and Cindy, along with a few other staff members, lead a small group of omegas across the lounge toward the exit of the omega wing.
There aren’t many, only five this month, but they’re all washed and dressed and primped to perfection.
But worst of all is the dead-eyed expression on each of their faces.
Joker sits up suddenly, moving his body in front of mine, as if he expects someone to try to grab me and drag me away with the others.
“They’re all drugged?” Joker hisses at me, low enough so his words don’t carry across the room.
I put a hand on his muscular arm, squeezing gently. “It’s better this way,” I whisper, my heart breaking again.
Joker whips around to look at me fiercely and I flinch back. The gold in his eyes has disappeared, leaving only a flat steel blue in his irises as he glares at me. But his face softens almost immediately, even if his eyes don’t return to their normal color.
“This is the last time it’s going to happen,” Joker says, a low dangerous rumble to his voice that makes me shiver.
He turns and pulls me to his chest, and I don’t fight it, my mind too confused by his behavior today.
But Joker doesn’t speak another word, just holds me close and glares into the middle distance.
He only lets me go when Claire comes to get us for bed, and even then, he walks me to the entrance to my ward.
“Sleep tight, beautiful,” he says softly, bringing my hand to his lips to briefly kiss my knuckles before he saunters off.
Claire sighs beside me. “That boy is trouble with a capital T,” she mutters.
I shrug, not agreeing or disagreeing. I’ve never been a thrill seeker or a troublemaker ever in my life. But, as I walk back to my room, I can’t help but wonder if I need a little trouble.