Page 1 of His Beast

Zayn

The crowd’s cries and cheers are nothing more than background noise, barely reaching past the numbness in my brain while I focus on the Alpha in front of me, the scent of stale blood permeating the air. His cocky grin trying in vain to goad me into making a move, elated that he had managed to land a few punches on a Valla. The vision in my right eye begins to blur and swell, blood dripping into it from the gash above my eyebrow. My arms and shoulders ache while the Alpha across the ring continues to mock me, bouncing around on the balls of his feet in a poor simulation of a true fighter, as if he was one of us.

Markus catches the corner of my eye from outside the ring, his dull blue gaze focusing on mine. Once he’s sure he has my attention, he gives me a signal, and I turn my glare back to the Alpha, an almost animalistic grin spreading across my face, causing him to freeze in his fancy footwork. The color drains from his face as he realizes his time is up before I even pull my arm back, calculating the power needed to end this.

Releasing the punch, I knock him out cold as he lands on his back on the mat covered in blood, sweat, and mold while the poor excuse for a referee rushes forward from the sidelines to check the guy's pulse to make sure I haven’t actually killed the guy. With a grin, he stands up and grabs my wrist, lifting my taped bloody knuckles to the sky in a show of triumph while the crowd cheers in excitement.

“Who else wants to test their strength and stamina against the great and powerful Valla!” the referee roars out to the crowd, exaggerating my designation and prolonging the last vowel.

Silently, I pray that no one will take him up on the offer. I am exhausted, my head hurts like a bitch, and my vision swims at random intervals. I’m pretty sure I have a mild concussion. Alphas tend to hit harder than Betas, making them a slightly better opponent, but I’m stronger than them, which makes many hesitate. Truth be told, the whole thing was rigged and simply for show to boost the confidence of other designations and Markus’ pocket.

I could easily take out anyone they put in the ring, unless it’s another of my kind. Those fights are typically scheduled in advance with payments upfront, as long as the price is to Markus’ liking. A fight like the one tonight was more about the thrill the others experience, the thrill of going toe to toe against a Valla and getting so close to winning that they often get cocky, just like the Alpha had. I glance down to watch two Betas drag the unconscious Alpha away, catching the glint in Markus’ eye as they pass by him. Sometimes, I will be instructed to intentionally lose, pretending to be knocked out while the others cheered above me in victory. After all, always being the winner is bad for business.

“Going once!” the referee shouts as if I’m nothing more than an auctioned product. I guess in some sick sense, I am. I’m a novelty, something unique, and Markus always makes sure to remind me of that. “Going twice! Going three times! And closed! Thank you all so much for coming this evening, and we hope you’ll visit us again next week! Bring us a fighter or two when you do!”

Relief floods through me as the referee drops my wrist, my arm swinging forward while my stiff shoulder protests the sudden movement. Markus probably has the ice bath already prepared for me. I’ve always hated the sudden shock to my system, but it does help with the inflammation and prevent muscle stiffness later.

Through the crowded cheers of the spectators, I’m pushed out of the ring and directed toward the lockers at the back of the rundown building. Around me, fans create a narrow path, many reaching out to touch me, making my skin crawl. I don’t like being touched, certainly not by strangers whose hungry hands don’t care where they grab. As if to prove my point, my head is roughly jerked backward as someone tugs on my hair, releasing it from the bun I have it in, piled at the base of my skull. Snarling, I whip around, glaring at the female Beta who had the audacity.

She immediately backs up, her eyes large while the color drains from her face as she clutches my hair tie close to her chest. Immediately, a large Alpha steps between us, blocking her view of me as he pushes me forward, herding me like a lost sheep. My anger pivots toward him, growling at him but he ignores me. Markus doesn’t pay Peter enough to deal with my attitude.

He leads me through the double doors that separates the fight ring from the private facilities and through the doors of the locker room to our right where my ice bath sat in the center of the locker room. Honestly, the term “locker room” is being generous. It’s nothing more than a small room with an industrial fluorescent light hanging from the ceiling that flickers at random intervals. Milk crates are stacked on top of each other to create little cubby holes for items and a makeshift bench of twelve-by-fours held up by cinder blocks was placed in front of them. A small fridge sit in the corner, struggling on its last leg to keep water bottles cool for us.

Peter stands on the other side of the door, leaving me alone in lockers; the muffled sounds of the crowd leaving the building echo off the tile while I strip down to my underwear. No matter how many times a week I do this, I still have to psyche myself up before jumping into the ice bath, its temperature causing me to hiss and my heart to stutter. I know it’s important, reducing any soreness and inflammation the fight may have caused, but I’m not a fan of practically skinny dipping at the North Pole.

The average incubation time to become a Valla-shaped popsicle is around ten to fifteen minutes, and I always push myself to see how far I can marinate before I can’t take it any more. My body begins to shiver, moving the water in small ripples. Inching deeper into the tub, I cross my legs to give myself more room so the water can come up to my chin, and I clench my jaw to prevent my teeth from chattering. Taking a deep breath before psyching myself up once more, I dive beneath the water, my head aching with the cold like an odd external and internal brain freeze. The wound above my right eye sears with pain, but I revel in it. Pain means I’m here, that I exist. Even unwanted, I still took up space in this reality.

Unable to stand the cold any longer, I break through the ice, gasping for air and looking around me, my eyes settling on Markus who stands silently beside the tub, looking down at me. Use of scent suppressors is mandatory, a rule set in place for all fights, so I wasn’t able to scent him when he entered the room. Being Valla means my senses are stronger than the average Alpha, so even through the water I would’ve known he was here, and the fact that I couldn’t unnerves me. Markus reaches forward, gripping my chin. With his thumb and index finger, he turns my face away from him to view the cut, letting me go with a huff.

“It shouldn’t scar, not that that would matter.” he says, his voice deep and monotonous.

I glare at him as I step out of the tub, reaching for a clean towel and the scratchy blanket we keep nearby to slowly bring my body temperature up after a dip. Tying the towel around my waist, I shimmy out of my wet briefs, letting them fall to the floor with a wet plop before reaching for the change of clothing in my cubby when a white envelope flutters to the ground. Confused, I bend down to pick it up while Markus lets out a gruff laugh.

“Personally, I think it’s a sick joke, sending someone like you to a place like that. As if you stand a chance. Charitably, I figured, why not let the other fighters have their fun. It’s not my money wasted, and we both know you won’t attend. Who would want someone like you for a mate?”

My confusion deepens as I open the envelope. I saw the lettering before I pulled out the scarlet ticket, my heart falling into the pit of my stomach like a heavy weight. The Night of Scarlet was an event that is held annually in the city where Omegas and Betas hope at a chance to find their perfect Alpha. Tickets are sold to Alpha’s in small quantities, but it’s not unusual of for Valla to get one, which means the one I now held in my clenched fist is costly and rare.

I couldn’t refute what Markus said. I’m always aware of the stares and whispers from strangers. There was a chance that I might’ve been good looking once I grew into my features, but someone made sure I would never know by attacking me. I had killed him, but not before he changed my life forever.

I say nothing as I pull on dry underwear, dropping the towel to get dressed. It doesn’t matter that I’m still cold, I just want to be as far away from here as possible. Stuffing the ticket into my hoodie pocket, I make my way to the doors.

“You did well tonight, Zayn. Keep it up and you’ll earn your freedom in no time.”

I ignore him, but his words echo in my head. We both know my contract was bullshit. After all, where else was I going to go?

Quinn

I don’t want to be here. I have a deadline to meet, and instead I’m in a room surrounded by people who want a shot at fucking me and take any freedom I have fought to earn away from me. The room is stifling and hot, the scent of designations mingling is. giving me a headache, and I. Am. Over. This.

Scanning the room I find the reason as to why I’m here. Alec stands across the room, holding a bouquet of red roses that had been given to him by other Alphas. He chats animatedly with someone, accepting the rose they offered him and sliding it into the collection in his hand. This whole event is based around those stupid roses. Alphas can present them to an Omega as a token of interest and at the end of the night, it is up to the Omega to decide who forms their pack based on appealing scents.

Alec and I have been friends since we were children, and it was his idea to attend this godforsaken event. He had called me a week ago, begging me to attend the Night of Scarlet with him, stating that his brother’s Alpha would accompany us.

Blake is Alec’s older brother, and had found his own mates – Morgan and Edris – at the event about three years ago, and Morgan is presently expecting their first child in a month. I have a sneaky suspicion that Alec’s sudden desire to attend the horrid gala has something to do with the sudden awareness that his biological clock is ticking away into spinsterhood and he wants what his brother has. I had a feeling that Alec pulled out all his charms to convince them and his parents to attend this year.

Begrudgingly, I agreed to go just to make my best friend happy, a decision I instantly regretted the moment I walked through the door. A couple of Alphas have attempted to speak with me, even going so far as attempting to give me their rose. But I wasn’t interested, and I’m trying my best to turn down each rose as politely as possible. Even going so far as to mention that I’m here for mutual support, not mate hunting. I entertained their attention and conversation because it’s expected of me, not because I want to. I fully plan on walking out of here without a mate.

I sip my soda, ignoring the collection of alcoholic drinks that have been ordered on my behalf by those interested in me. I’m only half listening to the Alpha in front of me, prattling on about the pack he wants to start, trying his hardest to entice me and convince me that I would be at its center while also making it clear that he wanted to be the leader. That kind of pack management mentality never appealed to me. Either we work together as a group or not at all. Choices impact everyone, there is no leader who makes the rules. I just smile politely at him, nodding along while my gaze dances around the room.