Skye #2
Finally herded into a room with other Omegas, I seek out my friend Jasmine, who’s in the room next to mine.
I spend most of my mealtimes with her. Rumbling low in my chest, the other Omegas give us some space with startled faces, adrenaline, and excitement buzzing through the crowd.
Most of them have no idea what goes on here, thinking that it’s just another day in the facility, and they’ll go to a nice, rich pack who will give them babies and take care of them with bites and bonds for the rest of their lives.
No, thank you. Fighting the damn wolf back into the cage in my mind before I make a scene, I inhale, noting that I seem to be the only one hit by the booster, which makes me a target, but everyone else is as safe as they can be.
The last thing we need is a whole group of us pouring pre-heat pheromones and sending a room full of Alphas into rut, starting fights, and trampling people.
I might be a wolf and more capable of defending myself than most, but I’m still a relatively unfit and short woman.
My chances and options are looking worse with every second that passes.
A warm hand thrusts into mine, and I’m washed over by the namesake of my friend.
Blooming night jasmine surrounds me as her equally short stature finds its way next to me.
Unlike my robust body, she’s willowy in her shortness, her dark curls in ringlets down her back, and a shining smile on her face.
Returning it with something a little dimmer, I squeeze her warm fingers between mine.
We’ve been a shoulder for each other since she came here a couple of months after me, sent unexpectedly by her family despite having a good relationship with them.
“You smell like my dad,” She smiles at me, a little sad this time, but I bump my head against hers in the closest hug I can get with us being sardined right now, awaiting the doors opening.
It is a sore spot for my friend, her dad sending her away, then disappearing so she couldn’t even call during our allowed times.
I open my mouth to try and give her some comfort when the giant warehouse door in front of us grinds and creaks, opening this bright storage room to the luxurious auction room.
The hot wall of Alpha hits us like a sledgehammer, and there’s a ripple through the crowd of Omegas, and everywhere I look, heads are raising, a collective inhale running through us.
Squaring my shoulders, I push a little closer to Jasmine, turning to snap my teeth and snarl as we start to move in the crush through what I can only describe as one of those cattle chutes they use on ranches.
Hands reach through, trying to grab at the Omegas, even as the guards bring batons down on them, or worse, tasers crackling as they press into muscle.
We aren’t allowed to mingle until that stage of the night, and some of the Alphas are a little…
Over-excitable now, but I doubt that the guards care enough about us to actually protect us if anything happened—we are just a paycheck.
No matter how many times I’ve done this walk of shame display down the chute, the hungry, filthy looks turn my stomach every time, like we really are only cattle to them.
A couple of scents catch my attention, but it’s nothing strong or soul-wrenching enough for me to look for them.
No, it’s better if I just keep my head down and move on.
Syrupy caramel and apples assault my sinuses, then promptly wash away with a wave of furniture polish, with an undertone of a citrus like mine.
The ruckus only grows as the rest of the Omegas come into the aisle, our combined scents growing.
Some of them enjoy this, all the attention, and the perfuming starts immediately, dulling mine into the crowd, but the cheers and barks and catcalls keep coming.
‘Hey, pretty birdy, nice cage.’
‘Oh, ain’t you a cocktail of pretty.’
‘That’s a whole lot of Omega for one pack.’
All that and worse reaches my ears, so much worse. Jasmine squeezes my hand as the next fat joke rolls around, and her scent helps calm my nerves a little as we walk shoulder to shoulder, sticking as close to the outer edge as possible and away from the groping hands and calls.
“They’re getting worse every time, I swear,” I shake my head, baring teeth, and the flash of fanged canines makes her pale a little before she returns it as a grin.
Omegas usually have a little fang, some old defense for us, but mine are closer to Alpha-sized, especially when I’ve pushed this close to shifting already.
“Think you’ll find a pack tonight, Jazz? ”
Her voice is like honey, slow and sweet with a thick Louisiana accent.
I always wonder how she ended up coming all the way out to Colorado, but that is for her to know.
Maybe if her pack is reasonable, I could still speak to her once I get out of here…
“Always. I’ve only rejected two now… What are you on, fifty auctions now?
” She giggles at me, a little weight lifting from my shoulders as I shake my head.
“Thirty-something, I spent the rest in the cooler, y’know, hitting my head on the wall rather than dealing with overbearing, stinky Alphas.
” I think it is that many. I really have spent too many of them in solitary, though I was honest when I said I’d rather that.
Jasmine just sighs at me, a motherly, chastising look on her kind face.
“You know they’re calling you ‘The Knot Wanted’ like, knot-knot.
And there’s been some talk about needing a strong Alpha to set you straight.
” Both of us grimace at her words. I know too well what’s been said about me at these events; the Omegas who reject packs, or choose not to bond them, come back with the news, and there seems to be a lot of uproar for an Omega who’s been in facilities as long as I have.
A year here isn’t even the longest I’ve spent in one.
Moving into our lineup at the stage, I glance at the drapes, seeing them twitch as though someone is behind them, but the longer I scowl, the more I blame it on my nerves, seeing things that aren’t there or maybe just a breeze from the open windows.
The whole room is decked in these long, silky curtains that close off a lot of the room and make it comfortable and more intimate for the setting and for most Omegas, but it makes my skin itch and my heart ache to be outside.
Somewhere with a lot of trees, maybe, where I can feel at home between the thick trunks, and run and dig until I’m sore.
Anna steps onto the stage behind us, forcing me to choose between watching the curtains for a hidden threat, the active Alpha threat, and keeping an eye on Jasmine next to me, whose flowery scent has wilted a little in the line.
I pick my friend, tugging her closer and hugging her now that there’s space, though I’m tense now that I’ve turned my back on the queen bitch.
Glittery black fabric backs the stage, and I listen to the click-clack of her heels as she takes her place at the mic, feeling the wave of tension ripple across us all.
There’s some speech about appreciating the turnout tonight, about the attractive packs in the crowd, and seeing them preening their suits like pleased little peacocks before we’re marched across the stage, one by one.
Once I’ve been subjected to my whistles and shouts, I take my place at the other side, until we’re all done, and the guards move the Alphas away from the stage to their seats, or the bar… Then it’s time to release the Omegas.
Once more, thankfully, my bad attitude has excused some of the friendlier packs from swooping in, or the ones that can’t be bothered trying to wrangle me, though I do catch a few ferocious, toothy smiles as I push past bodies towards the bathroom.
I’ve made a habit of this every week I’m here, straight to the bathroom, spend ten minutes until the guards drag me out, then begrudgingly behave for the rest of the night, only barking like a dog at the ones who approach me, or trying out progressively weirder tactics to get the Alphas to avoid me.
Hopefully, it means I have some time before they realize something’s amiss, and I can be gone and free before that.
Breathing feels like inhaling syrup as I scramble through the crowds—not too slow, I don’t want anyone to speak to me, but not too fast, I don’t want to look suspicious.
Pheromones lace every atom in the room, and it’s like a red rag in front of my instincts to have this much tension, especially when whatever I was injected with earlier has made me feel a million degrees and like I want to peel my own skin off to cool down.
Something warm and hard steps out in front of me, and I’m rushing just enough that the collision smacks my face clean against the wall of…
Enormous fucking Alpha. Triple shit for the night.
Looking up until I meet his eyes, I don’t see the predator's gaze of the more dangerous ones, though I don’t discount that he could do some serious harm by accident, given his size.
Soft brown eyes gaze through thick lines of double lashes, and his scent of rain on hot asphalt steams around us.
Rising in reaction, my own scent combines pretty nicely with his, and I almost lean closer when the sight of his pupils blowing knocks me out of the trance.
Goddess, there’s definitely slick staining my panties as I search for an exit.
“Sorry,” I murmur, trying to keep myself calm, small, exactly like a soft little obedient Omega would, “I have to go to the ladies.” Holding my hands up as a ward when his fingers twitch towards me, I skim along the side of him, dancing out of reach as he snatches for me.
“I could come with you…” His deep, thunderous voice hits from his pouty lips, but the big Alpha fangs on display immediately shake any arousal from my body. Yeah, no thank you.
Stepping back again, I check his little name tag on his shirt as I keep moving, “Whilst I appreciate the offer… Riley, I am capable of wiping my own ass. Though I’ll be at the bar when I’m done?
” He doesn’t need to know that I meant the bar across the road, outside the facility, but maybe if he is hopeful of my return, he’d let me leave without alerting the guards.
Batting my lashes at him, the smile that slides across his face is pure masculine pleasure, though he reaches out and loops a finger through the bars on the muzzle.
“I’ll see you soon, pretty girl, don’t keep me waiting?
” Releasing my face, he saunters off towards the bar in the corner.
Hopefully, he’ll forget about me after a couple of drinks when I inevitably do not return.
No time to waste, I’m on the move again.
Other sharks will be circling, my perfume like blood in the water.
Definitely time to go. Stumbling into the bathroom, I nod to the Beta reapplying her makeup in the mirror; she’s clearly been enjoying the auctions so far, given the hickeys on her throat and thoroughly smeared lipstick.
But I can’t wait.
Can’t think.
I’m so close now.
My plan has come together at last. Slipping into the end stall and sliding the latch into place, I see the window, still open from where I blocked the lock last week, clearly no alarms or anybody checking to ensure we’re well contained in this prison of a place.
They tell us that the Omegas are free to come and go if we sign out, and we have to take guards, but in a long year, Monday auction nights are the only times I’ve ever seen any of us escape.
As soon as they realize I am missing, there will be a squadron of guards bearing down on the area to find me, checking all the alleys and transport hubs in the district.
Not that I am going to any of them. No, I am going to hide in plain sight, exactly where they never check, because it would be pure stupidity to hide there.
The window creaks and slides once I hear the Beta leaving and open the window enough to squeeze my thick ass through the gap, dropping unceremoniously onto the street behind the warehouse and cursing as I dirty the dress and skin the palms of my hands.
I need to be quick; I still have this damn muzzle on my face and need it off and a change of clothes before I start to look really suspicious.
The air out here is cool, sweet, and I inhale what feels like my first fresh breath in five long years of being in the auctions.
Gooseflesh rises across my arms, a little chillier than I expected for an autumn night, but I stick to my plan, following the glowing neon sign for the Bowline Bar, an anchor with the rope around it shining like a beacon for freedom. Nothing can stop me now.