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The truth was despite her wan words of encouragement to Lola, Stacy really had no idea what happened to those women after they were taken by the alphas. Though the prohibition against permanent harm being done to the auctioned omegas was indeed strictly enforced, anythingcouldhappen to them short of that.
In fact, a sizable number of the auctioned omegas quickly found themselves pregnant, little more than brood mares for the alphas’ well known and observed—though not well understood—predilection for impregnating omegas as soon as possible.
There was a large body of research on that, of course, but she had purposefully avoided delving into the details of most of it, mainly because it gave her a vague uneasy feeling even reading the little of it she had.
“Here they come,” Jim muttered out of the corner of his mouth, his voice coming through loud and clear on the tactical ear piece she wore. They shared a “squad” frequency when handling an auction as a team, to ensure everything went smoothly. “I’ll be at the side exit. You good?” He was already moving though, clearly not really interested in whatever Stacy had to tell him.
“I’ve got her. Karen’s at the main entrance. She’s supposed to be screening them, but I’m not sure how many are going to be here.”
Jim said the words over his shoulder as he went. “There’s ten of them, I think. Pretty small group, actually.”
Taking her spot at the left side of the dais, Stacy dropped to her seat, slipping the last button of her coat. The butt of her gun was firm against her side, a reassuring presence. She tried to look nonchalant, relaxed, though she was anything but.
What the hell is up with you, Stace? It’s just an auction. You’ve done them before.
Jim was true to his word, ten alphas filing in, taking their seats in the semicircle in front of the dais. The atmosphere of the auction hall had seemed to change, an almost itchy electricity on the air. Every one of the males were towering, some of them more than the others. She wondered why they all seemed to wear the same dark suits, especially when she knew at least six of them—likely the males wearing the black-out sunglasses—were heavily armed. A single personal guard of an alpha leader probably possessed more firepower than all three of the agents combined.
Alphas never wentanywherewithout plenty of bodyguards.
Which was odd, because she’d read the reports of what justoneof those alphas could do in hand-to-hand combat. Alphas were the kind of creatures that didn’tneedbodyguards. And yet they had them anyway.
One of the most unsettling aspects of an auction was that it was basically silent, and it was difficult to even tell what was happening. The first time she’d worked one, it was over before she knew it had started.
She suspected this one was going to be much the same.
Karen stood watch at the front entrance, the dark, varnished doors locking as the brass-plated bar securing them thunked into place. Then the illumination was turned down, plunging the gallery into darkness, leaving the lone vulnerable figure on top of the dais in the bright wash of the spotlights. Her eyes were big and bright, her thin red lips trembling ever so slightly. She was possessed of a slight figure, but well rounded in all the places that mattered to these men. Her medical records had all checked out. Definitely fertile. Nothing that would exempt her from what was about to happen.
Karen, following the perimeter of the room, came around to stand next to Stacy. “Pretty uneventful so far,” her supervisor murmured, bumping Stacy’s shoulder with her hip. “Here’s to a clean auction, and a beer after our shift.”
“Sounds good to me, boss.” Stacy’s casual tone was completely affected; the tension in her body was growing with every second, a strange heat at the back of her neck making her worry she might start breaking out into a cold sweat despite the relative coolness of the room.
Keep it together, agent.
She distracted herself by studying what she assumed were the two leaders, the pair of alphas who were likely there to bid on poor Lola Grantham that day.
The first—whose name escaped her—was the alpha of the Glacier Peak pack, his long blond hair flowing and beautiful, with a striking gleam and vibrance any woman would envy. That gorgeous hair was offset by shoulders as broad as a mountain. The stubble covering his square, solid jaw was of the same golden hue as his hair, catching the light, painting a visage equal parts fearsome and alluring. The alpha’s eyes were a cold green-blue, the kind one might see on the endless expanse of the North Atlantic.
The other alpha whose name shedidremember was called Dmitri, and he was the leader of the Cold Ridge pack.
Oh shit.
The panic welling within her was like nothing she’d ever experienced, but it wasn’t exactly panic either. Rather, it was a nervous energy, as if it were boiling over inside of her, threatening to explode forth from her at any moment. Her breasts suddenly throbbed, heavy, her nipples like hard bullets.
What the fuck is going on?
She took a deep breath, and another, and that seemed to help. Her pulse was galloping, but with supreme effort she managed to keep her composure, using a distraction technique that had long served her well.
People watching.
She studied Dmitri’s face, the practice of evaluating strangers one that usually helped calm her. The first thing that jumped out at her were his slate gray eyes, the kind that made it impossible to tell whether he was kind, or cruel.
Or hinted that he had an equally fathomless capacity for both.
They were the kind that made a woman not care which it was, as long as that energy was directed ather.
Jesus, you sound like a love sick twit.
Even taller than the blonde haired rival accompanying him, his close cropped wavy hair was the color of coal, the sides cut so short they were almost shaved, the very hint of a frost of gray just visible at both of his temples. It was unusual to see alphas that showed any sort of age at all, and the agents joked now and then that the alphas themselves were probably immortal.
