A green-gloved hand swept across the large display that made up the surface of the desk. It then turned the block of text scrolling across so that it oriented in her direction. His second hand casually pushed the stylus towards her.
Leda had never been told the man’s name. She had only ever heard him
called The Whoremonger. She winked down at the tiny printed lines, trying to make sense of the complicated legalese that might as well have been written in another language.
“With you?” She tried for flippant to cover her mounting unease, but her voice rumbled on the last word.
The older Alpha chuckled, the tone was intense and full-bodied. But the smile didn’t quite catch the eyes that polled her with a calculated coldness. The silence sloped for a long moment as his gaze never broke from hers. A steady buzz of shuttles flying past the window of his high-rise office was the only sound, but even that drew her away. Heavy curtains, far finer than anything she had ever owned, draped the floor-to-ceiling windows, obscuring almost all the light from the brilliant sun outside and casting the
room in darkness. How long had she been here? Minutes, hours, more? Time had become
trivial as she sat on the edge of the metal bench that offered not even the slightest bit of comfort. It was in stark contrast to the artifact leather chair that the man across from her relaxed in.
“My intentions are more particular, dear girl,” the man said, finally breaking the silence. He bent the fingers of one hand to inspect the clipped nails. “But a beautiful Beta still has considerable value.”
If there was mockery in his tone, the Alpha hid it well. Obviously, he referred to the unique and highly sought-after female Omegas. Fewer and fewer of them were born with each passing year.
But her likely value, whatever he decided it would be, was exactly why she was sitting in this office. She didn’t feel particularly gorgeous at the moment. Instead, she like what she was: a twenty-year-old College dropout, living in the hovels with her family and pulling double shifts at a public Diner just to keep food on the table.
She moved her hand over the agreement, swiping multiple time as dozens of pages flew across the screen. It wouldn’t be possible to read it all, not unless she had numerous days and an industrial telescope.
She halted on the lab results from the multiple vials of blood and saliva they had demanded before anyone would even speak with her. Part of her wanted to inspect the test results in greater detail but her attention would elicit unnecessary attention.
If they had found out something, then she wouldn’t be sitting here.
“What exactly does all of this mean?” she asked, swiping past the test findings to the signature page at the end.
“The terms are relatively simple, really. I inferred it had all been clarified to you already.” The Whoremonger drooped in his armchair, stooping his leg to rest one foot on the opposite knee.
“One extra time, then.” Leda clenched her hands together to halt them from shaking. “Please.”
“Of course, my dear.” His small smile made it clear he knew she was simply playing for more time, her stamina too wrecked for reliable decision making. “I am prepared to offer you two thousand dollars, with half deposited in your account upon acceptance of our agreement. In exchange, you will spend one night at Ceres House for the amusement of our clients.”
Clients? She hadn’t expected the plural and hoped that he had misspoken.
“What would I have to do?”
There was not even a clue of a pause.
“Whatever you’re told.”
The shock of his words felt like being drenched in cold water. She stood and crossed behind the uneasy chair to stand by the window. Her hands flicked at the heavy drapes until she caught a sliver of the spectacular view. This blue sky was the cleanest thing she had ever seen. You didn’t get views like this down in the slums where a cloud of pollution filled the air.
And the many high-rise structures — full of Alphas and the fortunate Betas who served them — blocked whatever view of the sky might have been available through the smog.
People had traded their lives for a peek of this sky.
“I can’t do this.”
The Whoremonger stood and came to Leda’s side. His hands touched her back, the effort to be gentle obvious, in a motion that would have been almost fatherly under other circumstances.
“It can seem daunting at first, I know, to have your limits tested and these barriers pushed.” His hand stroked her hair, the rings on his fingers catching in the wild curls. “We have a very select clientele with certain desires, Alpha’s carefully chosen from among Aquila’s most elite. I can promise they will treasure you like the jewel you are. No harm will come to you, at least none that is permanent.”
She did not like the emphasis he placed on that last word. His client's would be Alphas, of course. Who else would pay so much for the license of having a Beta obligated to follow their every command? As if they didn’t control every aspect of Aquila and all the people in it, even more was expected to satisfy them.
Leda hated Alphas, their roars and needs, and the fact that they acted as if their position in society was some natural birthright rather than just a cruel twist of fate.
But she couldn’t afford to have an opinion. Not anymore. She thought back to how this had all started. One of her customers at the diner had approached her, not a regular like most, wearing a suit much
too fine for the place. He never spoke a word to her except to place his order, leaving a black business card with a generous tip on the table after he left.