Omega Society Auction [One]

by Eileen Glass

  “Your Society is the only reason I put up with you, girl. But you will leave now, and I will have Rourke alone.”

  She pushes her glasses up her nose. That expression means that she hasn’t quit. As far as alphas go, Zachri has shown saintly patience. The next blast won’t be so kind. Rourke knows from school that they can snap each individual bone in your body. Or just slam you really hard against the ground, effectively killing a human the same way you’d squash a bug.

  Rourke has value to him though. While his heart is slamming against his rib cage and his toes wiggle to find the ground, Rourke presses his lips to the alpha’s chin. It’s all he can reach without being able to rise on his toes.

  It works. Those bright eyes fix on him. But Rourke can’t look him in the face anymore.

  “Please ignore her. She’s just doing her job. Don’t hurt her because of me.”

  Zachri’s knuckles touch his cheek. His anger softens, but his brow remains creased. “Did I make you afraid of me?”

  Rourke gives him the answer he seems to seek. “N… no.”

  The sound of many boots on the ground pulls Zachri’s attention.

  “Ah, hell…” he curses, and a bright light bursts next to them, a slight breeze gusting over them as if the air was a curtain pulled open.

  Portals cross time, dimension, and defy all logic. It’s how the alphas got their spaceship to Earth, and it’s why the beings were called gods and angels when they first appeared. But it’s supposedly not magic, and the alphas despise when it’s called that.

  The breeze is flowing into the portal, Rourke going with it. But the boots belong to many soldiers in black armor, their faces obscured by helmets. They run in front of Stephanie and take a knee, their rifles coming up.

  Several pops emit from their guns and Rourke makes a small cry, hiding his face in the alpha’s suit. For what little good that would do.

  It turns out not to matter because Zachri turns to take all the bullets into his back. Except they aren’t bullets. Rourke’s fingers touch blood, and he looks around the alpha in horror, unable to believe what they’ve done. Only to see several syringes sticking out of his back.

  “Alpha! Lower him to the ground or you risk your omega’s safety!” calls one of the soldiers.

  “A fall like that will shatter his bones!” yells another.

  “He’ll break his neck or attain paralyzing injury!”

  Zachri cusses, first in English, then another language. Like a great wind pushing against them, a force seems to be pulling them into the portal. But the solidness disappears under Rourke’s feet. He screams, clutching Zachri for real, to stay in the air.

  The alpha’s teeth bare in an expression of pure malice directed at the soldiers. But the portal disappears, and gradually the ground gets closer. Rourke doesn’t let him go, terrified of slipping away.

  “Ugh… This should not have happened,” the alpha says under his breath. Then they’re on the ground and four soldiers shoulder their rifles to run at them.

  “Rourke…” The alpha tries to hold onto him. Rourke doesn’t resist, not sure what to do in this situation. Everything has gone crazy. Two soldiers grab Zachri’s arms and physically pry his fingers out of Rourke’s clothing. The other two seize Rourke and pull. Thus, he and the alpha are separated, and he can’t keep his feet under him as he’s carried away.

  “Oh my god, let me through!” Stephanie squeals in frustration, then appears in front of him, throwing her arms around him. “I’m so sorry I lost track of you! I should have never left you alone during the first meeting!” She’s crying openly.

  Though she cares about him, Rourke can’t stop looking back, to where the alpha kneels, with so many guns still pointed at him. Despite all that’s happened, he’s hungry for that sweet scent again. He wants to go to him and check on how he’s doing at least.

  “What’s… happened?” he asks slowly.

  Stephanie lifts her tablet, which she had in her jacket coat. The screen is tinted red and there’s the words, Wait safely until help arrives. Do not speak, yell, or scream.

  “Panic button,” she says. She swipes across the screen and her fingers put in a complicated code. “Sorry I took so long to hit it. I just knew he was a nice guy, you know? We’ve been talking about you for a long time… I thought I could get through to him.”

  “A nice guy?” Urges or no, Rourke doesn’t think anything Zachri did was nice. He made a mistake getting into this. He carefully read everything he could on alphas, and the websites said that alphas don’t harm their omegas—anymore—but it doesn’t seem like Zachri is the good type.

  “Yeah. It’s hormones gone crazy.” She shakes her head, then winces and touches the back of her neck. “Ow. I need to see a doctor. And you probably need to be detoxed. Come on. Back to the shuttle. Crap, I’m gonna have so much paperwork…”

  Rourke looks back as long as he can with Stephanie yanking him forward. The glint of Zachri’s eyes meeting his is like an animal, and he looks demonic with his teeth bared at the soldiers approaching him. Rourke hunches his shoulders and hurries with her.

  He did this for his mother, but he shouldn’t have. No wonder they showed pictures of cute little babies and happy human men on the website. It’s advertising for gullible victims. He wouldn’t be surprised if all the information he read was planted.

  If it’s true, then Zachri himself is violent and terrible.

  Rourke lays sideways in bed, facing the wall. He’s back on the space toaster. They had him in the clinic at first, but since they can’t find anything wrong with him, they sent him to his room.

  It’s all backwards. Stephanie, who was actually hurt, had to wait until after the doctor was finished examining him. Rourke tried to protest, but that quickly got shut down.

  He is glad to be in his room so soon anyway. He’s jacked off twice and will likely be going for a third round soon. His goose bumps always come back, and then he can’t help it. He puts the blanket over himself, squirming in the bed, feeling the sheets over his skin until he’s done.

  The effect that Zachri had on him hasn’t quit. The doctor gave him a whole bottle of suppressant pills and told him to disregard the label and swallow them as needed.

  Rourke broke the seal and flushed four, so they wouldn’t be suspicious. He doesn’t have eight months to wait to give consent, and then several more after to get pregnant. His mother doesn’t get the money until he conceives.

  He assumes his sensitivity is a good sign that he might be going into heat. He just wishes he hadn’t blown it with his first alpha. He has the binder open over his legs, reading the damn profiles already. His phone lies next to him with his Omega Society account up. All but one of his bids are still active.

  The others just aren’t… ideal.

  The pink-haired dude looks like he could bench press Rourke’s weight. His neck is thick and bulky. The yellow-haired dude looks like he got a cheap dye job. He didn’t—all the bright hair colors are natural to alphas. But the thought of having his kids makes Rourke cringe.

  Purple-haired dude looks like a schmoozer. And his likes are ‘social gatherings’.

  Rourke constantly has Zachri’s profile marked with his thumb, and he keeps flipping back to it. Rourke never read his profile before. It was unnecessary since Rourke was only in it for the money. But there’s a lot there that he likes.

  Not so bulky or loud-seeming. He’s well built, but on the slimmer side. In a suit, he looks like candy dressed as a man. His personal likes include human history research, which Rourke imagines is boring as hell, but he seems bookish and quiet. There’s a picture of him in an arm chair, his legs crossed, and a grey tabby in his lap. Under requirements, it says, ‘No pet allergies.’

  Rourke likes cats.

  He sighs and flips to the green haired-dude. His hair is short and sticks straight up. Rourke can almost envision turning him over to highlight something with his head. He’s dressed in cargo shorts and a t-shirt, but his smile is genu
ine and friendly. He likes human cars, and the machine he’s leaning on is very sexy indeed.

  He’d prefer the quieter type though. Someone simple who doesn’t bug him so much. He sighs and closes the binder. The sensitivity is coming on again. His skin gives a shudder as Rourke lays against his pillow, rubbing against it a little.

  But before he reaches for his waistband, there’s a ping on his phone.

  How are you doing, sweetie?

  Alphas have perfected texting algorithms so that almost everything ends up with perfect grammar.

  He starts with Fine. That’s every answer he’s given his mom when she’s asked for the last ten years. But Stephanie is his friend, and the only one out here in space. He erases it and amends, Worried. Are you okay?

  I’m great! No worries, hon :)

  That’s a relief. Rourke starts typing and deleting, trying to work out what sort of apology to make. Nothing feels sincere enough on the phone, especially given that he still isn’t taking his medicine. This is going to happen again. But he’ll make sure Stephanie isn’t around next time.

  Before he’s hit submit, the phone dings again.

  What are you doing?

  Looking over profiles, he responds.

  Picking another one? You seemed pretty sure about Zachri all this time…

  Then, on another line: OH MY GOD, did he pull his bid???

  Rourke refreshes the website just to make sure. For some reason she’s faster than him.

  No. It’s still there. So why?

  That part should be obvious.

  I puked in a plant. And got you in a car wreck.

  She responds, :P This definitely goes down as the worst ever 1st meeting. Congrats, Rourke. Another record! XD

  On another line: But don’t give up on him. We’ll talk about it, alright?

  So he doesn’t keep Stephanie hanging, he types, Yeah and hits the send button. Then he discards the phone in the little drawer that opens out from the wall.

  Rourke doesn’t see any salvageable aspect. He’s not sure that he should give the meeting another chance after Zachri harmed Stephanie. He might have killed her!

  He doesn’t know if doing this was such a smart idea in the first place. He could end up with an abuser that could literally toss him into walls…

  He misses home and his mom.

  They’re at a park. It’s daylight, but the sky is pitch black and the stars aren’t visible. Stephanie explained that other garden had a special forcefield to deflect light. The sky is always black on the moon, except for the Earth which is huge and beautiful. It’s weird to look up to a pitch black sky and have everything be sunny and bright around you.

  The park is dome covered and full of grass and trees. If he keeps his eyes off the horizon, Rourke can almost believe he’s back home again. Except the air is perfectly still. To the point that it’s kind of annoying.

  He never realized one of the great things he’s taken for granted was Earth’s breeze, no matter how slight.

  The park is full of people; human and alpha both. Stephanie decided that it would be healthy for him to see alphas and omegas behaving peacefully. And they are. Rourke always imagined that the humans were kept in towers like he learned in school, but here they mingle like regular people. Far off, there’s a playground, and little rainbow-colored heads are bobbing around, climbing slides and a swing set.

  Rourke wishes they were seated closer to that area, so he could see the kids. Where they’re at is away from the paths and close interaction with the people. Stephanie had the guards drag a picnic table out here. Once again, it’s wooden and ordinary, as most things are in the park. Rourke thought moon furnishings would be more exotic.

  No one is to disturb them, and guards are posted all around to redirect traffic if someone wants to share the shade.

  Stephanie is wearing a neck brace. She insists she’s fine and the get up is really just to make Zachri feel worse, but Rourke suspects she’s lying so he’ll stop apologizing.

  One thing about a guy with bright blue hair—Rourke can spot him a mile off, carrying a bouquet of white roses. Wearing another gray suit and lightly tinted shades. He tucks them in his jacket pocket as he arrives.

  “Hello, Rourke.” He smiles, perfectly civilized and friendly, but Rourke wishes he would have left the shades on. His eyes are so strange.

  A moment later, his attention is all for Stephanie.

  “These are for you. I’m so, so sorry…”

  He passes over the roses, which Rourke finds a little disappointing. But he should have expected it, he supposes. Everything bad happened the other day.

  “I would have brought you a gift as well, Rourke,” he says, sitting down across from him and Stephanie. “But after my behavior, I couldn’t think of anything that would be suitable. I have completely ruined the opportunity for trust in me. So, I must earn that back. Then I will shower you with gifts appropriately.”

  He clasps his hands on the table like this is a business deal.

  It kind of is. Rourke can breathe a little easier.

  “How is your health?”

  “Good,” Rourke answers.

  “Be more specific, please.”

  Though the request is demanding, his tone isn’t. Still, Rourke can tell that he expects to be answered.

  “Um, I… I haven’t puked since you met me.”

  By Zachri’s silence, Rourke assumes that he wants more.

  “I feel fine. A little tired maybe. But very good.”

  Does he know about the lust? Rourke supposes that he must. The effect did wear off, but he can feel the ghost of it just by looking at Zachri’s hands. They fidget, then rub together. Zachri puts them under the table.

  “I am glad then. Stephanie has told me that you might reject my bid, and I hope that you don’t do that. I would like to convince you to give me two weeks to prove myself to you.”

  He smiles, but it seems stressed. Rourke is about to respond, Yeah, okay. He doesn’t want to reject the bid anyway. The other bidders haven’t become more appealing. But Zachri continues to speak.

  “However… It seems my dose is still insufficient. Stephanie, please inform your guardians that I’m affected by Rourke. I don’t think I will be overwhelmed. But it is best to be safe.”

  “Christ, Rourke. You must really have the hots for the guy, huh?”

  Rourke gives her a look of embarrassment and horror. Stephanie winks, reaches into her pocket, and pulls out the pill bottle. She gives it a little shake for him to take it.

  “Pop a couple. Cut the guy some slack.”

  Zachri chuckles politely. The dangerous, uncontrollable villain Rourke made of him doesn’t fit with his gentle voice and present demeanor.

  “You can have two weeks. Longer, if you want,” Rourke mumbles and rolling two pills into his palm.

  Zachri’s grin is instantly big. He masks his enthusiasm soon enough, but Rourke can tell that he’s made the alpha happy. He must really want me.

  That’s good.

  “We’re moving you into Society headquarters,” Stephanie says as Rourke mimes taking the pills. “I hope you don’t mind, Rourke. I asked them to bring your stuff during this meeting. I know how much you hate the ‘space toaster’.”

  Rourke takes a sip from her water bottle as she giggles.

  “You two will have public, supervised visits until the medicine takes control. The board is still reviewing the incident, but likely they will allow you to continue to date so long as you maintain civility for a set period. They probably won’t allow touching for two weeks.”

  When neither of them say anything, Stephanie looks between them. The alpha’s grin has disappeared, and the man hasn’t stopped staring at him. Rourke is afraid to meet his eyes. He has the feeling he’s been caught.

  Awkwardly, Stephanie continues, “There is a small chance they’ll block the bid. Rourke, a statement from you about your preference for Zachri and how you felt while the incident occurred would be helpful.”
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  He definitely saw. Though Rourke has been fooling Stephanie and the doctor for months. The alpha’s expression is blank but intense, his eyes never moving from Rourke for a second.

  “Hello? You guys?” Stephanie waves a hand between them. She addresses Zachri. “Is this code red? Should I ask them to shoot you?”

  That gets his attention and Zachri blinks several times, checking over his shoulder where the guards stand.

  “No… No, it’ll be alright. I think… Rourke and I very eager for this mating. Would you agree?” he asks, looking at Rourke directly.

  “Yes.” Somehow, Rourke meets his eyes when he answers. And he doesn’t whisper. The goose bumps are waking up on his skin, and he’s finding his nervousness taking a backseat to something else.

  Alphas look different when he feels like this. Technically Rourke knows he could throw him into a wall and he’s basically ruler of the Earth and everything, but he isn’t intimidating. Anymore.

  Rourke is sitting up straighter, leveling his gaze on Zachri directly.

  The alpha shifts his eyes to Stephanie. “You will be impressed with me leaving of my own determination. You will recommend the board release Rourke to my home immediately.”

  “He’s not ready, he hasn’t even—”

  “You will recommend it. He and I are ‘soulmates’. Wouldn’t you agree, Rourke?”

  Rourke nods immediately.

  “You barely know each other’s names!”

  Zachri stands from the picnic table. “You will recommend it. Rourke—if you want this, make sure she follows through.”

  As he leaves, Stephanie gapes after him.

  “You’ve barely known each other for two minutes.”

  “But he’s right, Stephanie. I feel a connection with him.”

  Not as soulmates though. It was funny how Zachri said it, like he was parroting a sound and not a word. Alpha culture doesn’t seem to support the idea of soulmates, and that’s fine by Rourke.

  What he has with Zachri is better called ‘a purpose’ than a feeling. Rourke is fine with that.

  “That guy definitely wants to get with you.”