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Scents and auras andpresencefilled Club Mistletoe, which was already packed just a half hour after opening. Given the island’s name, its proximity to Yule, we were decked out for yuletide all year long. The brick building dominated one whole block in downtown Sweet Maple Bay, the outside covered in garland and lights, three stories tall for traditional drinks and dancing and dealmaking, then four levels deep beneath this coastal hub for kink and play and screams.
Decorated trees occupied every corner of the shadowy mood-lit interior, miniatures on tables between wine menus and omega scent cards. Tinsel dangled from the bar and twinkly lights adorned archways. While red and green were never far from view, the club erred toward glitz, toward gold, silver, and white, like they wanted to beclassy—despite the fact almost all the omegas here had been trafficked in from shitty situations, just like me.
Soclassy.
But Mistletoe Isle was an alpha’s playground. Small but wealthy, it was a winter retreat for the rich and influential, openly catering to both the supernatural and the human alpha majority.
Because money was money wasmoney. What happened on Mistletoe stayed on Mistletoe. Chalets and resorts littered the island, which, aside from Sweet Maple Bay and its harbor, was just one big pine forest. Clubs—nowhere near as prestigious as this one—and spas and casinos. Restaurants and boutiques. Escorting was legal and encouraged. Mistresses received the same respect as an alpha pack’s bonded omega.
You didn’t come to Mistletoe to find a mate.
You came here to splash cash and make an impression.
And I’d watched it all go down from the other side of my golden bars, huge ornate birdcages built into the walls at random, omegas locked inside all night for alpha entertainment. Goddess help you if some lovesick jerk cornered you: there was literally no escape from the mind-numbing small talk, the suggestive innuendos, and the hands reaching to cop a feel of whatever they could.
At first, I’d thought I could woo a drunk alpha and escape—pit him and his pack against Jackson, then sneak away while they duked it out.
But the alphas who visited Club Mistletoe literally made my stomach turn. A pair eyeballed me the second I entered the scene, puffing away on cigars and nursing eggnogs, and I swallowed down the pre-barf sweats before walking withpurpose. Based on my outfit, on the fact that I zipped straight for the door that led down to the club dungeon playrooms, clearly I was off-limits for anyone who hadn’t booked me. With a bit of steel in my spine, I pushed hard and fast, hating these heels—the whole outfit—but pretending to rock it with every iota of my being.
Alphas weren’t the only ones who could command a room.
Even betas submitted to an omega with her head on right.
It was in our programming, the core of our world, the building blocks of our DNA.
Society warped things.
But never mind. If I dwelled too long and too hard, I’d fuck this up, and then my fantasy of spending my Mistletoe shift in a nest, alone, without anyone undressing me with their eyes, wentpoof.
Using the thick wooden railing for balance, I tiptoed down the dark stone stairwell into a whole different world. I had only walked the lower levels during off-hours, when all the lights were on and the cleaning crews raced through their checklists. Upstairs was all yuletide joy, a homage to the legendary fairy Saint Niklaus with his dimpled cheeks and penchant for gift-giving.
This was the nightmare of Krampus, cold grey stone as far as the eye could see, alphas milling about, some wearing masks, others carrying whips, chatting and laughing while screams echoed from behind closed doors, the air saturated in auras and perfumes.
I needed to go one floor lower to find tonight’s vampiric patrons, the corridors wide and lined with steel doors on either side. Right now, I knew where the emergency exits and off-limits omega retreats were, but that didn’t help—
Pain seared my scalp when a huge hand grabbed my hair and wrenched me backward, nearly knocking me off my heels as I squealed and flailed and scratched at the thick forearm. Seconds later, I was hurled face-first into the cobblestone wall, then flung around, face-to-face with a seething alpha who stood about two heads taller than me. With a scent like overripe elderberries and skin like porcelain, he struck me as a Yule region local, his rumpled hair snow-white, his eyes a muddy hazel, his black suit disheveled. He lorded over me like he owned me, caging me in with a hand on either side of my head, the whiskey roiling off his breath far stronger than his natural scent, his alpha aura suffocating.
“Get on your fucking knees, omega,” he growled, sounding as furious as he looked—and shoving me down like he had finally found someone to take out his rage on. “Now.”
Panic spiked my perfume as he unzipped his slacks, and his nostrils flared, breathing it in, the alpha purr he threw back at me making my throat burn and my eyes water.
Clearly, he got off on omega fear.
Fuck.
“I-I’m taken—”
“Now means fuckingnow.” His zipper must have snagged halfway down because while he kept one hand there, swaying in place, he used the other to grab my arm and force me downward. While alphas could dominate omegas with pure physical strength alone, I tried to fight it—because this couldn’t be my alpha for the night. Not one of the three vampires. No.Please no.
I squirmed and mewled, trying and failing to dart around him. In my head, I was all spit and hellfire, sass up to a ten when it came to omega mistreatment.
But I’d been down this road before.
When it came to sticking up for myself in real life, making my tormentors suffer—I fumbled. Something in me pushed self-preservation and survival over the fire in my blood, and then I was just another weak omega yielding to brute force and society’s shackles.
“P-please, Alpha, just—” I cried out when he yanked me forward andslammedme back into the wall, pounding my head, bruising my arm.
“You’re not allowed to sayno, omega,” he hissed, zipper finally down and enormous erection stabbing out the opening, his knot big and ready but still trapped inside. I closed my eyes and winced against his breath, against the raw malice in his eyes that said he wanted tokillme, not just fuck me. “That’s not the way it works in here—Mistletoe omegas don’t have a choice. Why do you think we pay these fucking fees?”
