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Placing me beside the other women, he left me there, then jogged back down the steps to stand at the bottom. Bright lights blinded me, making it hard to see. I tried to block them out with my hand, but there were too many. Beyond the retina-scalding beams were dark shapes. Men.
No. Inhaling, I noted the various scents in the room. Not just men.Alphas. A lot of them.
Drinking down another gulp of air, I sorted through their signatures, hope blooming and then dying between one breath and the next.
None of them were familiar.
None of them were mine.
Anton appeared on stage, holding a microphone. “Gentlemen, I present our prized Omega of the evening, number fifty-four.”
Fifty-four.Not Demi. Just a number.
He clasped a golden collar around my throat that matched my dress. I reached for it, running my fingers over the smooth surface. The metal was cool against my overheated skin. I didn’t want it on. My fingers curled over it, tugging hard, but it wouldn’t budge. I grew increasingly agitated the more I yanked.
All the while, Anton rattled off my stats like I was some prized racehorse he wanted others to bet on.
When he finished, he looked at me with wickedly gleaming eyes that flashed beneath the bright lights. The man was an evil predator, thriving on misplaced power and the fear he inspired. A metallic clang sounded as he clipped a glittering leash to my collar, pulled me to the center of the stage, and prodded me onto a round pedestal.
“Let’s find out how much you’re worth, shall we?” he whispered.
Worth? His earlier words ricocheted through my mind.I always recoup my investments.
Passing off the mic to an announcer, he flipped on a fan behind me, blowing my scent into the room. Growls tore through the crowd I couldn’t see.
What the hell is this? What’s happening?
All my instincts screamed at me to fight. To run. To get the fuck out of here. But I was so weak I could barely keep my thighs from shaking in the unfamiliar stilettos. My body wouldn’t cooperate and my brain was so fuzzy it felt like I had soda bubbles in my head.
What was that called again? Oh yeah, carbonation.
My head was carbonated. My scent was rotten jam. I was just a delightful buffet of fear, anger, and confusion.
“We’re going to start with Omega Fifty-Four. Do I hear fifty-thousand?” The man with the mic briefly paused before pointing into the crowd. “I’ve got fifty. How about seventy-five?”
Wait a minute…
It finally clicked. The picture I’d been trying to form all evening belatedly came together, even as my thoughts immediately threatened to scatter again. I grabbed onto the understanding that had just dawned, refusing to let the moment of clarity, ofreality, go.
“One hundred and fifty thousand. Do I hear one-seventy-five?”
My heart stopped beating, and my blood ran cold, because…holy shit.
They were auctioning me off.
five
DEMI
For the secondtime in my life, I was going to be sold. My head spun, partly from the realization, but mostly from the drugs. The lights were blazing hot, making sweat start to bead on my skin.
“Two-hundred and seventy-five thousand. Do I hear three-hundred thousand...” the announcer droned on as I blearily stared past the blinding spotlights and squinted into the crowd. I wanted to make out faces, but all I saw were splotchy shadows.
I dazedly glanced around, trying to note the exits. I had to get out of here. Desperation burned within me. I needed hope—to know there was a light at the end of this fucked up tunnel. Instead, my gaze landed on the blasted guard at the edge of the stage, the only onlooker who was close enough to see clearly. All his attention was focused on me. He sent me another one of his cursory winks and then mouthed something my muddled brain couldn’t quite comprehend. Was that a countdown?
3...
“Do I hear four-hundred-and-twenty-five thousand?”
