Page 1 of The Beta's Bargain

one

Onyx

I push the helplessness and the thick fingers that encircle my wrist away. My icy smile is the only weapon I have. I throw it at the rich alpha who has me cornered. He’s already thinking he’s won, I can see it. His salacious leer makes my skin crawl, but I can’t call out for help, even though it is just feet away. The venue is glittering. Rich men in tuxes scan the room, rocking back on their heels, trying to find something to entertain themselves. Women in beautiful dresses move gracefully through the crowds, pecking other women on the cheeks and flashing their teeth in warning grins. And betas like me slide through them all, invisible. This isn’t a celebration, it’s a hunting ground. And I’m caught.

The trick is to be boring and unobtrusive. Serve the drinks and don’t get noticed. Offer the expensive canapes with your eyes fixed over their shoulders. Don’t see them as people, see past them. That’s how you survive the night.

After four years, I should be used to it. I should excel at it. So, I’m not sure how I got in this position tonight. I’m close to the wall, behind the crowds. This area exists in all the venues and every party I’ve ever worked. I call it no-man's-land. It’s where the predators hunt. I know better than to be tricked into being cornered so easily. A mistake of this magnitude could cost me more than just my wages. He just asked for help to find his wife. I was just trying to help. So simple, so stupid.

I grit my teeth and back away, keeping my wary gaze on the alpha in front of me. There’s a code of conduct amongst the designations. Alphas using their bark to compel people is considered bad form. I’ve seen too many abuses of its power to even pretend to entertain the thought that I’m safe.

A male omega passes, and my eyes flit to his black tux. It’s worth a fortune. He’s beautiful in a dark and masculine way that I’m sure leaves women seething with jealousy. A huge smile spreads warmth amongst the crowd and in his wake leaves a trail of oranges in the air. The smell tickles my nose, and I discreetly rub my finger against it to hold back a sneeze. His presence is the perfect distraction and the answer to my prayers. The alpha turns, unable to resist the lure, and I use that moment to duck under his arm, past the potent scent of cigarettes, and into the nearest hallway.

He won’t give up. I know alphas like him, the pursuit is half the fun, so I keep moving, running without running. I let the wash of irritation mask the fear that was rising. If I get busted not working, they’ll dock my wages, and I need that money. I can’t remember when I ate last. I know it’s been a day or two but my head swims, leaving me feeling strangely disconnected from my body.

“Hey, beta, beta, where are you?”

The drunk’s stupid voice sings out over and over, ruthlessly herding me away from the party. I walk quicker, slamming open a door and then stopping short. I'm both trembling with the need to run and held in place, star stuck.

The woman in front of me is stunning. She’s wearing crimson but even if she were in a potato sack, she has the kind of beauty that just screams class and elegance. Her green eyes scan my face, and I find myself dropping my gaze in deference.

Alpha.

I’m frozen, wondering if I need to run past her or go back into the party. I hear the fumbling calls of the alpha. Both of us flinch and look towards the hallway where the doors are.

“Run,” she whispers in a husky voice. “I didn’t see anything, but if anyone says anything, say you know me. My name’s Scarlet Waring.”

I run my eyes over her again, unable to believe this miracle. “Onyx Davies,” I say in a hushed voice. I force myself to smile and then run past her. If I can just make it to the kitchen, then perhaps I can disappear into the crowd of servers.

My relief upon stumbling into the kitchen gets a couple of the wait staff’s attention. A woman named Moira, who has a wide smile and just seems too nice to be working here, leans close to me.

“All right?”

“Yeah, now I am,” I say out the side of my mouth. A tray is pushed onto the stainless steel bench, and I pick it up. I pause at the kitchen door, composing myself, then I turn, backing into the door so it opens, and I go back out into the fray.

The night drags on. The Scarlet woman is the talk of the party. Her pack, the Knights, came in on white horses and rode off with her. It’s so romantic, and my pathetic little heart adores it. The party takes on that strange, mythical stage where the party guests are so drunk they are behaving like idiots instead of people, and my feet and body are aching so much that I could cry. The minutes are hours. Hunger and pain make it hard to smile.

A stranger passes me in the hallway and holds the doors. I look up and suck in my breath. This man is handsome and young, maybe a year or two older than me at twenty-three, but I know him. I've seen him around in many unexpected places.

“Are you working tonight?” I ask him.

He shakes his head, refusing to answer. He always refuses to answer me. I don’t take it to heart.

“I can’t meet you in the park tonight. I have to go home.”

He cocks his head to the side and then steps towards me. I suck in my breath, wishing that I didn’t smell like alcohol and quiche. I peer up at him as he gently presses something into my hand. His eyes are dark, his face in shadow, always in shadow. He leaves as quietly as he appeared. I watch until I'm sure he’s gone. When I glance down, there’s a roll with potatoes and meat inside.

I close my eyes so I don’t cry. This man might be the one bright spark in my miserable life.

For hours, I work, I don’t see either my saviour or the alpha again. I keep jumping at shadows, but they never appear. As the last guests leave and the cleaners come in to take over our jobs, I follow my colleagues to the staff section of the giant hotel.

The women chat in soft, tired murmurs, while the guys veer off, heading to their lockers. Making friends is something that should be easy. I guess it is when you don’t have so much to lose. A sharp stab pricks me deep in the chest, but I push it aside and focus on what’s important.

Our boss for the evening walks towards us, not even flinching on those four-inch heels. She looks like she might live in them. I envy her ability to dissociate from her pain. Yvette Daniels smiles with her crimson lips and hands out envelopes with our wages in them.

“As this was short notice, everyone gets paid in cash. You did a wonderful job this evening, people. Treyfield Pack was impressed and pressed upon me their desire that I report their thanks to you.”

She smiles, looking each one of us in the eye. I wonder if it’s part of her training or if it comes naturally to her. She makes us all feel important and like we’re part of the huge cog that is Treyfield and Hastings corporation. The huge empires dominate the industries of department stores and hotels.

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