Page 7 of The Comfort of Pain (The Black Market Omega #1)

Killian

“It sounds busy,” Tristan says as rowdy alphas cheer just on the other side of the treeline. Someone lets out a triumphant roar, followed by a round of lazy clapping. “Maybe the auction isn’t over,” he says, hopefully.

“Wow.” Basil comes to a stop at the edge of a meadow. “This is bigger than I expected.”

The wide cut of land is filled with large tents and roaring bonfires. And it’s packed with at least a hundred alphas, if not more. They laugh and snarl, some chatting with friends while others shoot daggers at everyone else. A stage sits not far from us, but it’s empty, and big overhead lights are off. I can only assume it was used for the auction.

“Come on,” I say, leading my pack into the crowd.

It stinks of sweat and booze. The mashed-up aroma of at least a hundred alphas clings to the inside of my nose. It reminds me of high school…before I dropped out.

“They’re prepping her right now.” A scarred alpha brags loudly to no one in particular. He smooths one hand down the front of his expensive navy suit. “She’s short, blonde, and beautiful,” he yells for everyone to hear.

A nearby alpha snarls, curling his fists tight, and I pick up my pace.

“This way.” I move toward the center of the market, away from a cluttered lot of cars. Most of them are large trucks and SUVs, but a few are expensive, luxury vehicles.

Edging around an enormous velvet tent, we reach the center of the camp. There’s a collection of tables with food and drink. Lots of men feast, talking excitedly about the showroom that just closed. I scan the crowd, realizing there’s not a single omega in sight. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this.

Basil slows as we pass a roasted pig, but I don’t stop. I know he’s hungry—we didn’t rest once all day. We lost too much time fighting with Bosco’s men. But I refuse to stop and relax until I’ve had a chance to see the omegas.

“What can I get you?” a beta behind a makeshift bar asks. He’s wearing a white shirt and black tie, drying an empty mug with an already damp towel.

“Is the auction over?” I ask, and he frowns, telling me it is.

“Sorry, sir,” he grimaces like he hates being the bearer of bad news. I don’t blame him. I’m sure the staff here get a lot of shit from disappointed alphas.

“What about the gallery?” Basil rests his hand on the bar. “How late does it run?”

Deep worry flashes in the beta’s eyes. Clearly not wanting to answer, he stands a little taller, scanning the crowd. “You’ll want to talk to Angelica.” He points past me.

I turn, following his gaze. A slim she-alpha with sleek black hair and deep red lips stands near a gigantic dark green tent. “The she-alpha in the black dress?”

“Yes, sir.” The beta smiles as if relieved to be rid of us.

I move, and Basil and Tristan quickly follow.

The she-alpha—Angelica—scans the crowd, taking in the throng of alphas around her. She carefully watches a few betas, watching the way they serve drinks and smile brightly.

“Angelica?” I glance back, happy to see my packmates giving us a little space to chat. It can be hard to discuss important matters with three alphas breathing down your neck.

“Can I help you?” Angelica looks me up and down, her eyes lingering on the cut above my eye.

“Killian Bava.” I extend my hand. It takes her a beat, before she carefully takes it, shaking once before releasing me. “We’ve just arrived,” I say politely. “I was hoping you could tell me where we could meet one of your lovely omegas.”

Angelica grimaces, giving me an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bava, but we’ve run out of omegas. All our inventory for this month has been sold.” Tristan softly growls right behind me, letting his frustration be known. Angelica’s blue eyes narrow at him. “You should have arrived on time,” she says loud enough for him to hear. “You’ll have to wait until next month.” Her gaze slides back to me. “And I recommend arriving on time .”

I bristle at her cutting tone, but I also understand. We probably aren't the only frustrated clients she’s dealt with today. “Ma’am.” I step a little closer, keeping my voice even and light. “Is there a waiting list of some kind? Something we can sign up for, to ensure we get an omega as soon as possible?” I look deep into the she-alpha’s eyes, making her feel my urgency. “I’m willing to pay for the inconvenience.”

“Mr. Bava.” Agitation rolls off Angelica’s shoulders, and she crosses her arms. “Do you have any idea how many alphas have asked me the exact same thing?”

I nod, knowing full well that this woman has probably given this speech a million times. “I know how places like this work.” I look one way, then the other, making sure no one is listening. “I know you have a surplus. Omegas that are too damaged or injured. Ones that need a few weeks or months until they can be put up for sale.”

Angelica’s light blue eyes soften around the edges and she tilts her head to one side. “Where did you hear that?” Her eyes flicker to Basil, then Tristan.

“A friend,” I say, but, the fact is, I'm just guessing.

It only makes sense that they’d hold a few omegas back each month. That’s how supply and demand works—tell everyone there’s only a handful of mates available, then watch the throng of desperate alphas fight to outbid each other.

“Please, ma’am,” I say with my best, simple southern-boy charm. “Money is no object.” I smile. It’s another lie. My pack isn’t like a lot of these alphas with their luxury cars and three-piece suits. But we work hard and have managed to save a good chunk of money.

“Okay.” Angelica looks one way then the other. “I might ,” her teeth flash as she emphasizes the word, “have something.”

Hope erupts in my chest, followed by a rush of excitement. “Yeah?” I stand a little taller. “Can we see her?”

Angelica’s glossy red lips, pull into a tight smile. “She’s expensive.” Her eyes zero in on Basil as he steps up beside me. “Young, fertile, and very spirited.”

“Alpha?” Basil says and I hold up a finger, telling him to give me a minute.

“Show me the way,” I say, eager to meet this prized omega.

A pleased smile lifts Angelica’s crimson lips. She turns and walks. “Right this way, Mr. Bava,” she says over her shoulder.

“Holy fuck.” Basil’s mouth falls open. “Are we really getting an omega?”

“Come on.” I smack his firm chest, then turn and wave Tristan over. It takes a second for the big alpha to notice. He’s too busy staring at a roast, turning on a spit.

Angelica moves quickly through the camp, away from the crowd. She sways her hips as she walks. She moves like the kind of woman who’s used to getting exactly what she wants. “They’re with me,” the she-alpha says to a very stern-looking beta.

He’s a big fucker—only an inch or two shorter than me—with hard eyes and firm fists. Basil gives him a respectful nod as we pass, but I keep my eyes on the tent directly in front of us. It’s massive—like all the other tents—but this one is a deep shade of blue, and it’s surrounded by dozens of guards dressed in black dress shirts, with guns secured on their hips. Beta guards. Curious, I glance back, noticing several more betas moving through the crowd.

“Right this way.” Angelica pulls the heavy flap to the tent, and a wall of delicious omega pheromones slams into me.

Eager, I rush inside the tent, then scan the large open space. But it’s completely empty. A few cots are lined up against the far wall. Carts loaded down with medical supplies are lined up in the center of the room. A young blonde beta stands over one of them, checking off items on a clipboard. I take in her dark blue scrubs, wondering if she’s a doctor or a nurse.

“Ma’am,” she greets Angelica, hugging the clipboard to her chest. “What can I help you with?”

Angelica glances around the room. “Where’s the female on hold?”

“She’s in the back.” The blonde smiles politely. “Would you like me to take you back?”

“No, thank you,” Angelica brushes her off. “But we do need a one-sheet for her.”

“Right away.” The beta sets down her clipboard before scurrying away. She walks past me and Basil, but she slows when she nears Tristan, hugging the side of the tent to keep from getting too close. I get it. He’s a big fucker with visible scars on his knuckles and a permanent scowl on his face.

“I will only warn you once,” Angelica moves toward the back of the tent, “no touching.”

Boxes and crates line the back wall, no doubt filled with medical supplies. I can smell a mixture of sterile alcohol, latex, and sharp disinfectant.

“Watch your step.” Angelica pulls at the corner of the tent, revealing a whole new room.

Carefully lifting my feet, I step over several electrical cords into the cluttered space. More boxes, empty cages, and all kinds of tools surround us. I inhale deeply, taking in the scent of copper and mud, but then something sweet tickles my nose, and my body instantly begins to hum.

Omega .

Her fragrance is faint but sweet, like vanilla and sugar. It courses through my veins, rushing all throughout my body. Making my mouth water.

“Fucking hell,” Tristan whispers under his breath. There’s a strained excitement in his tone, and I completely understand why. I’m sure his instincts are screaming just as loudly as mine. The urge to rip this tent to shreds so I can find that omega is almost impossible to ignore, but I have to.

We all do. We can’t risk being kicked out.

Just breathe , I silently tell myself. I’ll have the rest of my life to lose myself with our sweet omega. But, right now, I have to pretend to be civilized.

“Is that her?” Basil asks as we near a small metal cage. There’s a lump in the center, lying on top of a thin blanket.

“Yes.” Angelica rests her manicured hand on the top of the cage, smiling as if showing off her most prized possession. “She’s a young female. Twenty to twenty-five—Oh, perfect.” She cuts herself off as the blonde beta walks toward us. “Thank you for being quick, Jacci.”

The young woman bows her head as she passes us, keeping her eyes on her feet. “The one-sheet, ma’am.” She hands Angelica a piece of paper, before quickly retreating. Tristan watches her go, smiling at the thick fear radiating off the poor girl.

Some people just can’t handle being around alphas.

“What happened to her?” Basil kneels next to the cage, looking at the shockingly small creature.

Tristan and I move closer, happy when Angelica doesn’t stop us.

And there she is. Our omega.

She’s completely naked and obviously drugged. I want to admire her pretty form, but all my attention pulls to the ugly marks across her hips and wrists. She’s covered in dark bruises, and there appears to be dried blood all down her face and neck.

“She has no serious injuries,” Angelica says, making my mouth fall open with disgust. “No broken bones or?—”

“What happened to her?” I growl and my fists curl tight. I need to know who did this to something so pure and fragile. I need to find them. Hurt them. Destroy them.

But Angelica doesn’t look bothered by my rage in the least. She simply smiles as she says, “She killed an alpha.”

“Bullshit,” Tristan blurts out.

“Sadly, it’s not bullshit,” the she-alpha says. “This omega is incredibly violent.” She hands me the piece of paper. It has barely any information on it. No history. No real age. Not even her name. The only thing it says for sure is that she’s five foot nothing and not mated.

This girl needs us.

And we need her.

She must have been so scared to have killed an alpha all on her own.

“How much is she?” I ask, bracing myself.

“I’ll be honest,” Angelica says with a heavy sigh. “She’s a northern omega. Born and bred out here.”

“She’s completely wild?” I ask and Angelica nods. My brows raise, shocked that her kind could survive their whole life out here without someone to watch over her.

“She has no education or training,” the she-alpha continues. “She’s a truly feral one.” Her glossy lips press into a thin line. “Unfortunately, it’s not likely that she’ll be a very good mate, but she will make a lovely pet.”

I’ve never been fond of the term “pet”, but it is accurate. Wild omegas struggle to learn basic things like manners and even speech, and many never get used to socializing. They’re more like wild cats—wonderful companions, but too untamed to provide anything other than occasional affection. But that’s okay. We can teach her. We can help mold this omega into the perfect mate and save her from the wildlands she was born into.

“If she’s feral, does that mean she’s cheap?” Tristan asks, and Angelica snorts.

“Oh, no.” A wicked smile cuts across her otherwise pretty face. “The untamed ones are in high demand. There are very few alphas that can break these wild girls in, but once an omega bonds with a pack, they are fiercely loyal and protective of their mates.” The she-alpha beams as if talking about a rare antique. “They’re a real prize for any collector.”

I bristle at the thought of an alpha “ collecting ” omegas. There’s already a shortage. Hoarding them is pointless and selfish.

“The good news is, this one is actually able to speak.” Angelica glances back down at the sleeping omega. “She also seems to have a bit of a tolerance to alpha pheromones.”

“Was she raised by alphas?” Tristan’s dark brows draw upward, just as surprised as me.

“It’s a possibility,” Angelica says, “But it’s not likely with the wild ones. They rarely have proper families. It’s likely her tolerance is a random twist of biology. The good news is it’ll make it a little easier to train her in the beginning.” Her nose scrunches as if pleased to share the omega’s selling points.

“What’s wrong with her?” Basil curls his hands around the bars. “She looks drugged.” He sniffs the air, no doubt smelling the faint trace of ammonia lingering around her.

“It’s just a standard medication we give to all the omegas,” Angelica says like she’s given this speech a thousand times before. “It’s a mixture of a sedative, a pheromone stabilizer, and a heat-suppressant. It dulls their fear response to unknown alphas, and helps them to be extra friendly without falling into their heat.” She rolls her eyes as she says, “Some omegas are incredibly high-strung.”

“A heat-suppressant?” Tristan asks. The disappointment in his voice is very clear, and I understand why.

While omegas don’t have to be in heat to mark them, it’s highly recommended. The process is painful and sometimes even bloody. The delirium brought on by a heat acts as a sedative, often keeping the omega from hurting herself or her alpha. It’s one of the few facts I remember from my omega studies class back in high school.

“How are we supposed to protect her out here if we can’t mate her?” Tristan frowns.

“I understand your concern,” Angelica says flatly, clearly annoyed with Tristan’s valid question. “But we have to suppress them. The last thing we need is for their arousal to set off multiple alphas in the middle of the goddamn market.” Her voice rises, as she snips, “It would be chaos.”

“How long will it last?” Basil’s tone is calm and even, trying to ease the tension in the air.

“The suppressant is a standard dosage, so it can last anywhere from a week or two, up to a month,” Angelica says as if it’s common knowledge “The pheromone stabilizer will be out of her system by morning and she’ll be slicking herself like any normal, healthy omega.” She turns to me. “What do you think, Mr. Bava? Do you want to discuss price or would you rather wait until the next auction?”

Tristan and Basil both turn and look at me at the same time. I can feel both of them holding their breath, wanting this precious girl as much as I do.

I take one more look at the tender omega, and shock cuts through me. Her eyes are open. They’re hazy. Unfocused. But she’s looking right at me with the most beautiful soft brown eyes I’ve ever seen.

“What do you think, omega?” I lean in, hoping she can understand me. “Do you want to be my pet?”