Page 12 of The Violence of Love (The Black Market Omega #2)

Rhett

“It’s only me and my beta,” I say honestly, bracing myself.

The last two omegas I spoke with lost interest the moment I mentioned my pack was small. But Autry doesn’t look upset at all. In fact, her eyes light up with something hopeful—curious, maybe even a little eager.

“A small pack?” Her voice lifts.

“Yes,” I say, pleased with her choice of words. Most people don’t consider two lovers to be a pack. They believe you need three or more, and even then they expect you to have a few alphas. “Are you interested in a small pack?”

“Oh yes,” Autry’s hazel eyes shimmer in the warm tent light. They hold a kind of softness that pulls me in. “I’ve always dreamed of having one strong alpha and maybe a beta or two.”

“ Two betas?” I can’t help but to smile widely. “Betas are known for pampering omegas.”

Her full lips twitch, playful and sweet. I can almost see her imagining it already .

“Do you need twice the spoiling?” I tease, my voice low and inviting, watching her eyes roll up, thoughtful, teasing.

“I’ve always liked the idea of having a single, strong alpha to care for me, and two betas to adore me.” She drops her gaze, as if embarrassed by saying something so bold. She’s good—skilled in the subtle art of appealing to an alpha. And yet, the way she says it so quietly, it feels real.

I pick up her one-sheet, glancing at the academy's name. “Where did you go to school?”

“Beechworth.” She shifts on the arm of the chair, making her tiny red nightie ride up. It’s hell not to look, but I keep my eyes plastered on her face. I refuse to act like an animal. “I graduated a few years back.” She sits taller, pride threading through her words. “With honors.”

“Is that so?” I breathe in deeply, catching her sugary lemon scent—like summer itself wrapped in warmth. “What was your favorite subject?”

“Ballroom dancing,” Autry says so quickly it’s almost as if she had the answer locked and loaded. But her expression is a little tight, making me wonder if it’s the truth.

“Ballroom dancing?” I repeat, trying to gauge her reaction. “Really?” I narrow my eyes, not allowing her to look away. It’s well-known that omegas struggle to lie when making eye-contact with alphas… at least that’s what I was taught back in high school.

“Well.” Her smile falters for a breath, and she bites her bottom lip. “I enjoyed it a lot.”

The thought of this graceful omega gliding across a dance floor stirs something in me, but I want to know the truth. “What else did you like?” I lean in, voice dropping, holding her gaze. “What class made your heart race?”

Her lips press together, then finally she says, “Chemistry. ”

I raise my brow, genuinely surprised. “They teach chemistry at the omega academies?”

“They did, at Beechworth.” She curls her fingers tightly around her nightie’s hem, nerves clearly flickering beneath her calm. “There were only two of us in the class, but we got to do so many amazing things.” I can feel her restrained excitement in the air.

“Like what?” I ask, eager to see her smile again.

“Honestly, it was a lot of basic stuff.” She pauses, furrowing her brow. “Do you really want to know?”

“Desperately.”

Her smile returns, soft and full of light, and my heart soars. “We did that experiment where you combine chemicals to make this thick foam.”

“With hydrogen peroxide,” I say, recognizing it from my own high school days.

“And potassium iodide,” she adds quickly.

A whole new fantasy jumps to the front of my mind—Autry in a tight, white lab-coat, her soft cleavage pushing up out of her blouse as she leans over her little experiments.

Fuck me.

“We also made polymer bouncy balls and hot ice.” Her energy doubles, like she’s been waiting her whole life to talk about this. “It was all silly stuff, but I loved it. It made me feel smart.” She rolls her eyes like that’s ridiculous.

“You are smart,” I say, pleased when a flush rises in her cheeks.

“I don’t know.” She looks away, flustered. “I’m really not that?—”

“I’ve never met anyone who can make a polymer bouncy ball or hot ice.” I drop my voice to a rough, teasing purr. “And I don’t even know what hot ice is.”

Her eyes widen, pupils dilating, consuming the once soft hazel color. “Thank you.” Her voice is dreamy as her milky thighs press together. “That’s very nice of you to say.” She lets out a nervous little giggle. The sound is heavenly.

In fact, everything about this omega is perfection: Her calm nature, her scent, her subtle flirting, and even her passions. I love the idea of having a brilliant omega who can teach our children all the amazing things she knows.

“Y’all done chatting yet?” A gruff alpha steps up next to me, leaning into my space.

Rage slices through me, and my body tenses. “I have a few minutes left.” I glare at the alpha, not looking away until he backs up.

Ten minutes.

That's all the time we’re supposed to have with each girl.

It felt like an eternity when I was talking to the other omegas, but with Autry, it isn't nearly enough time.

I want to hear her voice and see her smile.

I want her to share more stories of her time at the academy and find out what she wanted to be when she was young. I need more.

I need her.

And just like that, I’ve made up my mind.

“I would like to place a bid on you,” I say to Autry. “Would you be okay with that?”

The omega’s eyes go wide as if shocked I’d ask her permission. “Yes. Of course.” She holds out her hand, allowing me to see the number written on her bracelet. I pull the bidding slip out of my back pocket and write her number down.

5228

At least I think the last number is an eight. It’s extra thick and traced multiple times as if someone fucked it up .

“Can I ask?” Autry stops me before I can put the sheet away. “What’s your bidding number?”

I glance down at the paper. “Four, one, seven.”

“Four-hundred and seventeen,” Autry says softly, biting that plump bottom lip again. I swear my knees threaten to give out. “I’m glad I met you, Rhett,” she adds, her voice barely above a whisper.

Needing to touch her, I slip my hand under hers. The moment our skin meets, a jolt shoots straight through me. Her hand is warm, soft, and somehow grounding all at once.

I lift it gently and press my lips to the back of her hand. Her lemony, sweet scent floods my senses, and my whole body thrums with it. My heart hammers and my cock plumps.

If I ever were to believe in fated mates, this would be the moment.

Slowly, I straighten, reluctant to break contact, but I release her hand. “It was lovely to meet you, too, Autry.”

Then I turn and force myself to walk away. It's agony to leave her, especially knowing that she’ll be chatting with some other alpha. He doesn’t deserve her. None of these assholes do. She’s mine.

Mine .

The fresh evening air fans across my face as I step outside.

The sun touches the treetops, casting everything in a hazy light.

The crowds are especially rowdy near the stage, throwing off wave after wave of aggressive pheromones.

The auction is underway. Alphas yell out, placing their bids while a beta on the stage riles them up, trying to encourage them to pay more.

Higher! Dig deep! Don’t let your new mate get away!

The chaos makes the tension in my chest double as I pass. Determined to stay focused, I march through the crowd and across the market. I zero in on the claiming booth on the other side of the meadow, desperate to get Autry before someone else has the chance.

The booth is a simple table flanked by two bulky fluorescent lights.

They’re both already on, ready for when the sun finishes setting.

A small, mousey-looking woman sits at the table.

Two burly betas stand behind her. They must be security, but the batons nestled in their belts wouldn’t do much to stop a raging alpha.

Thankfully, there are only a few others in line, but I’m sure it’ll be a madhouse the second the auction ends.

I stand behind a big red-haired alpha in a white polo. He rocks nervously from one foot then the other as he waits for the pack in front of him to finish up.

The crowd roars again, and I turn, watching as a young, blonde omega walks out onto the stage.

Her knees shake as she steps forward. Her tiny pink bra and panties leave nothing to the imagination, but it's the look in her eyes that’s the most upsetting.

She’s obviously drugged, and based on the way her upper body sways, she’s been given way too much.

I understand they probably have to sedate the omegas with so many alphas present, but this is extreme.

It’s the main reason I want a showroom omega.

Rumors have always circulated about the black market omegas being snatched off the streets and doped up so they can’t fight, but the flier I found said the showroom omegas were known for being eager to find a mate. They want the love and comfort of a pack. They aren’t being forced.

Growing more impatient by the second, I scan the rest of the market, taking in the roaring bonfire and makeshift bar. Drunk alphas laugh and chat loudly while they drink beer from tall glasses. Many look like they’re bragging, while a few look pissed… including Oli .

The dark-haired alpha sits at the end of the bar, nursing what looks like a glass of whiskey. I guess he didn’t find any work.

The line in front of me moves as the pack finally finishes claiming their omega. The red-head in front of me steps up, slapping his bidding sheet onto the table.

I try to settle my nerves, thinking about Autry’s stunning hazel eyes and long brown hair. I do love brunettes. I’d never say that to Myrick—my handsome blond beta—but it’s true. There’s something almost mysterious about a dark-haired lover.

Awareness pricks my skin, and I turn back toward the crowd. My gaze zeros in on a short beta in dark blue scrubs. He startles and spins around when he realizes I’ve caught him staring right at me.

The staff here are a little odd.