The Showroom
Autry
I’m sothankful Charlie is with me.
Everything about this place is scary and weird. The sights, the smells, even the distant voices of the alphas right outside the tent. Despite not being able to see them, I feel like I’m surrounded.
“It’s okay,” Charlie whispers from somewhere behind me. “You’re okay. Just breathe.”
I nod, fighting the urge to turn and look at him. To lean into his soft presence and soak up his calming scent.
Instead, I focus on the fairy lights strung along the ceiling. They’re wrapped around all the tent poles, throwing off a dreamy, orange glow. I stare at them, watching the light pulse and shimmer like I’m looking through a kaleidoscope.
How long will these drugs stay in my system?
“5221?” A stiff beta in a tight black dress calls out the next number. She’s making sure we’re all here. She looks at the dozen or so omegas around me, waiting patiently for someone to respond.
“Here.” A tiny red-haired omega raises her hand. She shivers as she lowers it, hugging herself tight. Her pale pink nightie pulls, riding up in the back and showing off half her bottom. I glance away, ashamed of looking.
Everything about this feels so wrong.
When I was attending the academy, I went to many meet-and-greets with potential packs, but this is so different. Those events were like garden parties. This is absolutely scary.
The air is tense, filled with the faint trace of fear and distress. Instead of bubbling over with excitement, the omegas around me tug at their thick, leather collars and pull at the hem of their nighties. Some rest their hands on their chests to hide their cleavage. I don’t bother to hide mine. There’s no point. I’ve been a DD since I was sixteen. Even when I was on the run, and lost a ton of weight, my boobs refused to get any smaller.
“Autry,” Charlie whispers in my ear. His voice is so deep and warm, fanning over my exposed shoulder. “That’s you.”
I glance at him over my shoulder, looking up at his handsome face. The tiny lights dance in his dark brown eyes, making my heart quicken. My goodness, he’s beautiful.
“Autry,” he says my name even softer, then gives a pointed look past me.
“5223?” The stiff beta practically yells, making me jerk.
“Here.” I raise my hand, and her eyes snap to my face.
“5223?” She glances at her clipboard, then back at me.
“Yes.” I try to nod, but the stiff collar around my neck makes it difficult. “That’s me.” I wrap my hand around theplastic bracelet on my wrist, trying to hide the number Charlie changed. I hope they don’t check it.
“This way.” A blonde beta appears next to me. She has a tight, polite look on her face as she struggles to tuck a stack of papers under her arm.
I turn to follow her, moving a little too fast. The room tilts sideways for a moment, and my knees go weak, but I catch myself on the back of the chair. The blonde beta doesn’t even blink. She grips my elbow and guides me forward, like she’s done this a hundred times. Maybe she has.
I wish Charlie could stay with me. But I know he can’t. He snuck in with me, claiming to be additional medical staff for the event. It would look weird if he stayed glued to my side. But I can feel the heat of his gaze on my back, and that’s enough. He promised. He said we’d pull this off.
That I’d find an alpha. The right kind. And then Charlie would make sure the rest happens. We’re a team.
“Right over here.” The blonde beta guides me to the other side of the tent. Her voice is sharp but not unkind. She leads me through a small opening in the tent wall, past another cluster of fairy lights that feel like stars dripping from the ceiling. My fingers twitch again—God, I’d love to reach up and touch one.
Everything feels so soft here. So bright and quiet and wrong. Like a lullaby that hides a monster under the bed.
“This is your station.” The beta walks me to a little sitting area. It’s cozy, like one of those vintage reading rooms I always dreamed about when I was a kid. There’s a fat green velvet armchair and a little table with a stack of brochures and a vase of fake white roses.
I eye the armchair and start to sit—my legs are tired—but the beta stops me with a hand on mywrist.
“Oh, no, sweetie.” The beta takes my hand, forcing me to stand back up. “You can lean on the arm of the chair, but you can’t sit in it.”
Well, that’s stupid.
