Page 7 of Sold to Three Alpha Kings

The elders don’t waste time once they’ve decided something. Within the week means within the week, and by midmorning the square outside the throne room is packed with Omegas gathered from every corner of the three territories.

Some came willingly, families hoping for the kind of favor that comes from a daughter mated to Kings. Some clearly didn’t. I can smell the difference before I even reach the dais—fear has its own particular note, sharp under the sweeter Omega scent, and there’s a lot of it in this crowd today.

Chris sits on his throne to my left, arms crossed, expression carved from the same ice as his eyes. Wayne’s on my right, seated with his legs crossed, already bored.

The first few Omegas are brought forward one at a time, and it’s exactly as tedious as I expected.

A merchant’s daughter who trembles so hard she can’t speak. A hunter’s girl who stares at Chris like she’s already decided she’ll win him over through sheer will. None of them smell like anything more than what they are—pleasant, submissive, forgettable.

I’m three names deep into losing interest entirely when the crowd near the edge of the entrance shifts, and something catches at the corner of my attention.

A cluster of traders. Rougher men, the kind that work the smaller trade routes and don’t bother much with manners, dragging a small group of women behind them like cargo they’re eager to be rid of.

And there, at the back of that group—barely visible past the shoulders of the man in front of her—a flash of red hair.

I don’t know why it catches me. There’s nothing about her posture that should. She’s not preening or performing the way the others have been, not angling herself to be seen.

If anything, she looks like she’d rather not be seen at all—shoulders drawn in, head down, a faded shawl pulled tight around her like it’s the only thing standing between her and the whole watching square.

Still, I find I can’t look away from her.

She’s too far off to scent properly—the wind’s wrong, and there are too many bodies and too much fear-sweat crowding the air between us.

But even at this distance there’s something about the way she holds herself. Careful but not fragile. There’s a difference, and I’ve spent enough years reading rooms full of people who’d rather not be noticed to know it when I see it.

Pale, round-cheeked. A build the elders would probably sniff at, all soft curves instead of the lean, sharp-boned look that passes for desirable among Omegas here.

Not that I care much what the elders think is desirable. She keeps her chin down, but her eyes move constantly like she’s looking for exits or counting guards, the way someone does when they’ve spent a lot of time somewhere they didn’t feel safe.

“You’re staring,” Wayne says under his breath, amused.

“I’m just looking around.”

“Sure you are.” He follows my line of sight anyway, squinting toward the traders’ group. “The redhead? Doesn’t look like much from here.”

“I didn’t say anything about her.”

“You didn’t have to.” Wayne grins, all teeth. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?” I glance at him.

“The one you get when you’re interested in something.”

I don’t answer that, mostly because he’s not wrong, and I don’t especially feel like handing him the satisfaction of knowing it.

Chris hasn’t said anything at all. When I glance over, his gaze has drifted the same direction mine has, just briefly. Just long enough that I notice—and then it’s gone again, back to that carved, unreadable stillness he wears like armor.

The traders shove their way toward the front of the line, impatient, shouting something to the guards about a girl in heat, about needing to be seen next. I can’t make out the words from here. I don’t need to.

Whatever’s happening at the edge of that crowd, I have the distinct, unshakable sense that selection day just became a great deal more interesting.

Chapter 3 - Charlize

I feel the tight ropes on my wrists biting mercilessly into my skin as I sit in the cart, wedged between three random women I’ve never met before.

My heart is hammering in my chest, and my lips are quivering. Not because I’m cold. But because I’m scared, confused, and furious at the same time. Two of these other women are sobbing with their heads bowed while the oldest amongst them sits in silence.

Just like me, they too had been sold out to the traders that own this cart. We have no idea where we’re being taken to or what fate awaits us at our destination—wherever that might be.