The air was thick with scents, with tension, with a primal hunger that felt ready to burst.
Everything in the spacious, open ballroom was gilded—the floors, the ceiling, the furniture, even the flutes brimming with champagne. The waiters wore golden suits, their hair dyed to match their ensemble. The room glinted, screaming opulence. Of course, I shouldn’t be surprised. When the most influential Alphas threw a Glass Slipper Ball, they didn’t spare a cent. Not when it involved their sons finding an Omega to mate with.
That was all we females were to these monsters—a means to rut and breed with us to showcase to the world that they were prestigious enough to have claimed a rare female. I shuddered at the thought of how little we meant to them.
Thing was, Omegas were becoming scarcer and Alphas more desperate with each passing season.
Females weren’t born an Omega. The change came within seven years after turning eighteen. Over the past decades, fewer and fewer females transformed into Omegas, and no one had been able to work out why. Mass panic spread among the Alphas, which led to the creation of the extravagant Glass Slipper Ball.
A complete joke! A name implied Omegas found their prince charming. I almost laughed out loud at the irony.
We all knew the truth.
Once you turned, heat controlled you, and males went feral to rut you. Yep, not exactly the epitome of a fairy tale.
My friends, Charity and Adella, crowded in, pressing so close, I could barely breathe. They stared at the groups of elite Alphas in the room, chatting, laughing, and staring like wolves at every Omega in the room.
Including us.
Shivers ran up my spine. Like us, other females stayed away from the males, sticking to the outskirts of the golden dance floor, which ensured we didn’t stand out. My friends and I would be arrested for trespassing if caught. Not to mention, once it got back to Ms. Bakewell, she’d have us locked up in isolation for a month straight. She ran the Bakewell Institute for Girls with an iron fist and treated us more like prisoners than residents who lived there.
The sad part was we couldn’t run away. Females at the age of turning into an Omega and without Alphas were forbidden out alone. Others who never changed had to carry an ID passport with them at all times, getting it stamped wherever they went. If we broke the rules, we’d be thrown into prison and sold as servants to Alpha families, officially stamped as an Unwanted. Bakewell held onto our ID passports to ensure we never escaped, hence we were stuck.
My muscles tensed thinking about how much I couldn’t wait to hit twenty-five, hoping Bakewell didn’t sell me off as a fake Omega in the meantime.
It was why we had snuck out and gone on foot to the Glass Slipper Ball, sticking to the backstreets to avoid being caught. We only had each other, and we had to find our friend, Frannie.
We’d wait for a bit in the corner of the ballroom to not draw too much attention before moving around the ballroom, surveying the area for Frannie. My throat constricted as I curled my fingers into the fabric of my gown. Rumor was she was at a retreat and having the time of her life. I doubted that. Frannie had been gone for over two weeks, and she would’ve sent word. Coming to the ball was the best chance we had to find her because every Alpha would be here. I kept the fragment of hope of finding her in my chest despite my heart beating like a frightened bird.
The other girls at the ball were extravagantly dressed, gowns glinting with diamonds, fabrics only from the most expensive designers, hair pinned up, tiaras—everything to paint that fairy tale image.
My dress came from a thrift store—all I could afford—the color of a spring field, with a simple love-heart neckline. It did the job, though. Our plain dresses got us into the ball after all.
“This place is gaudy,” Charity whispered, staring around the ballroom with as much distaste as Adella and I had. “I’ve never seen so many Alphas in one place. Look at them all in their penguin suits.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off them or deny they made me curious to find out more. At the Bakewell Institute for Girls, we rarely saw them… well, only when one came to be paired up with an Omega they’d purchased. They always had that look of hunger in their eyes when they looked at us.
We stood in the shadows, watching everything, and I couldn’t ignore the men who were stealing glances our way.
The small orchestra played a waltz that might be Chopin, but the music was barely recognizable beneath the loud thunder of voices. My head boomed with the sounds, and my heart sped up each time I caught someone else staring at us. With it came an unsettling panic in my chest.
Did they know we didn’t belong here or that we weren’t Omegas yet, and we’d crashed the ball?
Could they smell the hormone pills we took to make it appear as though we’d already transformed?
I sweated bullets at being busted, except we were here for our friend, Frannie. Until we found her, we weren’t leaving.
“Even the chairs are gold,” Charity gasped when we spotted three empty gilded chairs off to the side, and we each took a seat. The rest of them were taken by the other Omegas dotted around the outside of the dance floor.
“God, I hope the mafia aren’t here. They do horrible things to Omegas,” Adella murmured and nudged me, her eyes glued to the crowds in front of us.
“For all you know they could be here,” I muttered. “They have secret members who attend such events and look like everyone else. So you never know.”
She gasped at the shock, which I guessed was spurred on by the news report we’d watched last night about another shooting downtown between the two mafia families who ruled over our city, Liberty. “Well, if I speak to an Alpha, I will be grilling him to find out if he’s from the mafia or not.”
“Look at the man over there. He’s gorgeous,” Charity blurted, not even listening to our conversation. Her eyes were filled with avid interest, her voice slightly high-pitched.
Turning my attention to look without moving my head, I noticed a giggling group of women were talking to a man who towered over his admirers. He had blond hair and dark brown eyes, with a charming smile, but I didn’t see why Charity was so enamored. He looked rather ordinary.
“He’s… alright.” Frowning, I took my eyes off him as one of the plastic pieces in the corset at the top of my ball gown poked me beneath my right armpit. I shifted uncomfortably to ease the ache without drawing unwanted attention. “Besides, we aren’t here for the men.”
“I know, I know, but he’s just so… breathtaking.” Charity sounded a little breathless. Her cheeks were flushed a dark pink, and the pupils of her hazel eyes were as big as dimes.
A side effect of the Omega hormones pills we took or something else?
I put my hand on her right elbow, leaning in closer. “Are you alright?”
“Oh yes, I’m just a little warm, that’s all.” Charity fanned herself, and I wondered if she was coming down with something. Or maybe the pills I’d bought from that back-alley dealer weren’t real after all, though I wasn’t feeling strange. Plus, we passed the guards at the entry door without a hitch.
“I wonder how big his knot is?” she murmured, her eyes locked on the man.
Gaping at her, the ludicrous question didn’t shock me because of the subject matter, but we were here to find our missing friend. I glanced at Charity to study her skin, ignoring the black, floor-length mermaid dress that suited her body perfectly. Her flush ran down her neck and chest, and even her arms were a little pink.
Just what I needed, an allergic reaction when we weren’t supposed to be here. Ms. Bakewell would find a way to send us to hell with punishment if she discovered we’d snuck out, faked being Omegas, and come to the ball uninvited.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Charity?” I asked quietly.
Adella stared at our friend, her brows pinched together, not sure what to make of Charity’s reaction. I peered around us, convinced someone was scrutinizing us and noticing that Charity was acting strange.
When an older man with dark hair peppered with white at the temples strolled toward us, panic filled my throat. A younger man marched after him, calling to him. One last look at us, the man turned away and fell into a conversation, then they took off in a different direction.
I was so high strung, I was convinced my heart would give out.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Charity said, wrenching my attention back to her. She fanned herself with her open hand again. “I’ll be fine in a minute, I promise.” Her lopsided grin wasn’t convincing, but my nerves made me frantic as I kept scanning the room.
“Okay,” I grumbled. My anxiety was ratcheting up, making even my palms itchy with sweat. I should have known something would go wrong with my idiotic plan, but we hadn’t heard from Frannie in so long, and there’d been too many Omega mysteriously vanishing lately, only to be found dead weeks later. So, I’d do whatever I had to in order to find her—anything at all.
“We’ve been here long enough not to look too suspicious. Let’s search for Frannie while looking inconspicuous,” I muttered softly. “If anyone asks you a question, tell them your handler will be here soon, and you can only talk with them around.”
“You think that will work?” Adella asked with a pinched expression.
“For sure. Some Omegas are super guarded. Besides, if it gets to be too much, just give them an excuse that you need to go to the bathroom.”
When a waiter came by, offering golden glasses filled with champagne, Charity took one.
“Maybe we should stay away from alcohol since we’re, you know…” My suggestion was pointed, but I quietly hoped she remembered we were on pills.
Charity, coming to her senses for once, put the glass back down and asked the waiter, “Can you bring me a glass of water?”
The man, who had to be a Beta, considering his job, gave us an odd look, one golden eyebrow arched high as if Charity had insulted him by asking for water.
“On second thought, champagne will be just fine,” I said rapidly, my voice tight. All three of us took a glass, and when the waiter bowed and left us, I whispered under my breath, “For heaven’s sake, don’t drink any of this.”
Placing the glasses behind our chairs, we sat back down, and my mind raced as fast as my breaths. I needed to calm down, or this wouldn’t work.
I glanced around the ballroom, hoping, against all logic, I’d see our friend. Then we could find out where she’d been and head back before anyone suspected we’d gone missing. I wasn’t in the mood to be locked up in isolation or risk the asshole guard who paid special visits to the girls in the basement cells. I shivered. That was the reason I tried my hardest not to break the rules.
“Trinity, what if…” Adella started, but I shook my head, putting a stop to her question.
Adella was our worrier, the one who always imagined the worst scenarios. I knew part of that came from the number of times Ms. Bakewell had locked her in a small closet in our dorm, the punishment for the smallest of infractions when we were younger. I’d hated that closet and was once stuck for a full day with a rat who’d been hiding in there. I’d been unable to check my closet for days afterward.
Shivering at the memory, I shoved it to the back of my mind, along with how many times I’d cried at the Institute. I wish I knew why I’d been dumped there as a young child, but that wasn’t something to think about at that moment.
Refocusing on Adella, I reached over and took her hand in mine, and she turned to me with fearful eyes.
“Just breathe. We’ve been through worse together and always come out of it. All the punishments we’d endured, and we survived those, right?”
She nodded.
“See. We’ll live through tonight as well.”
“I know,” she murmured, her voice crackling. “It’s just… if we get caught—”
“We won’t,” I interrupted, not wanting to end up in isolation for a month, either. “Just fake it ‘til you make it. You said that, remember?” I grinned.
Her frown broke into a lopsided grin, and she sighed. She was the quiet, meek one of our peer group at the Institute.
“We’re best friends, like the four musketeers in that old book we read last year.”
She squeezed my hand with tears threatening. It was the four of us altogether, but one was missing, and I suspected why, just not how.
“Don’t be such a ball sack, Adella,” Charity said. I glared over at her with a menacing look to shut her up, but she just laughed at me with a shrug. “What’s the worst that can happen? We get swept up by an Alpha?”
“Are you crazy?” Adella snapped. “We’re on pills to trick everyone into thinking we’re Omegas, or has your sex-brain made you forget where you are?”
Charity shrugged. “The way I see it, I’d rather a man punish me for my wicked ways than be locked up in that horrible closet for days on end. Anyway, for all we know, Frannie could have run away and left the country, and I wouldn’t blame her. I’d do the same if I got the chance to leave with an Alpha.”
“Let’s just focus on finding Frannie first.” I sighed heavily, hating that I couldn’t completely disagree with Charity. “How does that sound? Then if you want to mingle with the Alphas, go for it.”
I felt Adella’s glare, but the decision was Charity’s. We’d all grown up at the Institute, punished for the smallest things, treated like criminals. We had also spent endless nights talking about all the things we’d do once we got out, like traveling the world. We were all convinced we wouldn’t become Omegas. Once you reached twenty-five, females could get jobs and attempt to have a normal life with a Beta male.
Until Frannie’s hair started changing color almost overnight—the first clue her transformation was happening.
Then she was taken away, and we hadn’t seen her since.
Adjusting the boning poking into my armpit, I wondered how this pretty dress with embroidery could be so uncomfortable. At least it held up my full breasts without too much effort, something I’d been worried about since they normally spilled out of low-cut tops.
“I think she just found her Alpha,” Charity said matter-of-factly. “Or she’s at that retreat, and she’ll be at the ball like old Bakewell said. We get to enjoy a night out without that dragon breathing down our necks and act like normal nineteen-year-olds.” Charity shrugged again, her golden hazel eyes distant. The girl liked nothing more than having fun and took it where she could get it, no matter what was going on. Normally, that was alright, but Frannie had been missing for two weeks. We promised to come back to see each other or at least call once we got sold to an Alpha. She hadn’t done either, which wasn’t like her.
An Alpha across the room paused in his conversation with a brunette to look over his shoulder at us. I lowered my head, my hands twitching on my skirt, and prayed he didn’t come toward us. From beneath my lashes, I saw the woman touch his arm, and he returned to whatever they were discussing. I let out a shaky breath.
“Are you kidding me, Charity?” Adella grumbled under her breath, and I turned to her. “Bakewell sells off her Omegas. That’s why she got the government to pass the law that we couldn’t leave the Institute until we’re twenty-five, and she’s certain we aren’t Omegas. We know she force-feeds the fake Omegas hormones and dyes their hair when they’re twenty if they haven’t started changing by then, then sells them and makes money off the girls. Added to that are the stories of Omegas disappearing all the time, and what about those found dead? So, how can you be so blasé about all this?”
“I’m just saying, Frannie was showing signs of being a real Omega, so maybe she’s at her real forever Alpha home.”
Tensing in my seat when I noticed more Alphas staring our way, I jolted to my feet, needing to search for Frannie. Feeling sick to my stomach about my friend, I came here to find her, not for Charity and Adella to argue.
“We have to get moving.”
Adella’s glittering jade green eyes glared at our friend.
“Why are you pissed at me?” Charity pulled back, angrily narrowing her eyes at Adella as her mouth opened in disbelief. “Frannie wanted nothing more than to be an Omega, and when her hair turned blue, signaling her transformation, we knew she’d be sold off to one or more of the highest bidding Alphas.”
“Please stop arguing. We need to go look for Frannie. Come on, get up, and let’s do this so we can leave.”
Charity huffed, pushing herself to her feet.
“I’m sure Frannie is just enjoying being pampered at the retreat that old hag sends us to before she puts us in the slave markets.” She lifted an eyebrow and gave us a haughty look that set me on edge. I hated when she did that. It always meant trouble, and we’d end up paying for it one way or another. “If it was me, I’d enjoy it while I could. Then I’d enjoy getting knotted as many times as possible.”
She had always spoken her mind and had been grumpy all day, insisting Frannie was safe, so I shouldn’t be surprised she’d act so uncaring. I’d assumed she’d take tonight’s mission seriously.
“You are so gross.” Adella wrinkled her nose in disgust, her thin lips pinching as she stood from the chair. She was a pretty girl but had a face that, more often than not, looked perturbed when she wasn’t smiling.
“Getting knotted is gross? Sex is gross?” Charity asked with a superior snort that did her no favors.
Something was wrong with her, and I wondered if she was more concerned about Frannie than she was letting on, and this was her stressing. That would make sense since Charity didn’t like to appear to be weak and often tried to hide anything that worried her. She’d once told me that showing others you’re scared means you’re weak, and she never wanted to look weak.
“Keep your voices down,” I whispered, noting more men were eyeing us now. How long before they come over to us? So far, we’d kept to ourselves, as had the Omegas across the hall, but that wouldn’t last long. The Alphas wanted to find their match and would come to us soon enough to get what they wanted.
“It’s all so animalistic,” Adella continued, shuddering, her face twisted in a sour expression only I caught before she turned away from Charity. “I really hope I’m not an Omega. I don’t want that to take control of me or to be sold off to some man who will only cast me aside when word gets out that Ms. Bakewell has been selling fake Omegas. And all of that talk about slick. Surely, an Omega would need to drink gallons of water to make up for all the fluids lost with all the slick oozing out of her.” She was talking fast and kept swallowing, appearing nervous.
She had a point, even if it made me cringe. “Do you two have to argue now? We’re drawing attention, so let’s move and search for Frannie.” Nudging them away from the seats, their steps were sluggish as they glared at each other.
Adella put her hand against her black hair, checking her simple bun was still neat.
I cast my gaze around the filled room, looking for Frannie, now that my friends seemed to be calming down and moving.
“You know what’s going to happen, Adella. Either way, we’re not going to the good, loving homes she’s supposed to send us to after careful debate. She’s just going to sell us, so you might as well get used to that idea now,” Charity responded, her face smug and just a bit twisted, reigniting the spat all over again.
Sometimes, Charity made it hard to like her.
Adella rolled her eyes.
Charity eyed the Alpha across the room again. He seemed to have a pack of others around him, and the sight made me shudder. They were known for being arrogant, dominant, and aggressive, and the Omegas they bought were seen as their possession.
I refused to belong to anyone.
It was bad enough to think about begging one man for sex during a heat cycle, but a whole pack of them? My whole life, I’d hoped I wasn’t an Omega. I also didn’t want to be sold as a fake Omega because once the Alpha found out, what would he do to me?
Omegas were rare, a precious commodity that brought high prices at slave markets. I didn’t want to be a slave to an Alpha or to my own body.
Charity might be ready to mate, but I was with Adella. The inability to say no, the primal urge to be rutted by an Alpha, to be bitten and brutalized? It was all too much for me. I wanted nothing more than to find Frannie and escape the Bakewell Institute for Girls.
“I’m going to mingle. You two old maids can stick by yourselves if you want, but I’m going over there,” Charity said, swaying her hips for the benefit of the pack. And sure enough, they were staring at her.
Their predatory looks left me trembling. Closing my eyes, I wondered what kind of trouble she was about to cause. I couldn’t stop her, though, so I leaned over to Adella.
“Let’s do this. She’ll join us once she comes to her senses.”
Adella nodded and looped her arm through mine as we walked in our gowns and short heels around the ballroom, then out to the main hall at the front of the building. Making our way toward the rear of the mansion, my gaze scanned everyone we passed—stunning women in glittery gowns and immaculate hair, wearing the most beautiful fruity and floral perfumes I’d ever smelled, and Alphas, some handsome, some not, laughing with other males and smiling when they were with the Omegas.
And still no sign of Frannie.
“I need the bathroom,” Adella whispered, and I searched the back hallway.
“There’s one over there.” I pointed to a door with a W written on a discreet sign. Adella hurried inside, and I waited for her to come out.
I studied the elaborate hall with gold-framed paintings of people I didn’t know, chandeliers dripping with gold stars, and golden vases along the walls spilling with yellow flowers. While I lingered in the hallway, I spotted a mirror on the wall to my right. Checking to make sure my corset was still in place, I noticed a faint hue of pink at the roots of my mousy blonde hair.
Wait! What was that?
It couldn’t be…
My stomach dropped, and I moved closer, but a low growl to my left caught my attention.
A group of men stared at me with the savage hunger of a pack of demons.
I froze in place as I smelled… night blooming jasmine, a smell that brought an ache to the pit of my stomach, a craving I’d never felt before. Other scents came at me—pumpkin pie and Muscadine grapes, two of my favorite things in the whole world. The grapes grew wild in this part of Georgia, deep in the Great Smoky Mountains. There was another man with them, a man with no scent at all. He must be a Beta. Panicking, my heart felt as though it was going to explode from my chest. These were scents of Alphas, scents I shouldn’t be able to smell…
Unless I was a real Omega.
Oh, fuck!
Then I felt something hot and wet between my thighs and knew I was in more trouble than I could have imagined.
