Page 4 of Knot My Sin

“You’re not worth the risk!” he yells, spitting on the floor. “I’m leaving, be sure to wire the money after she’s sold, Ophelia.”

I have snot running down my face, my eyes sting from not being able to breathe, and my chest is heaving. Still, not one tear is released. I think they all dried up when I was ten-years-old, facing an alpha three times my size, realizing my life was over.

Dramatic? Not really, when this is the state of my life.

Trey storms out of the room as I slowly sit up, eyes wide. Ophelia sighs, shaking her head.

“You’re a mess,” she mutters. “Don’t just sit there. Get up, get up!”

Ophelia forced Trey to realize how close he was to losing control by complimenting him on it, hoping that it would help him to snap out of his rut. She didn’t do it to help me.

Scrambling to my feet, I stare for a moment before she huffs out a breath and grabs my arms, pulling me into motion.

“Good for nothing omega slaves,” she mutters as she moves through the doorway and into the back hallway.

I can hear someone calling out bids to a roaring crowd I can’t see, somewhere in the building, and I glance around as I walk, watching omegas of all ages crying.

There’s one girl who watches on silently, her chestnut hair thick and wavy. She’s wearing a pair of tiny black shorts and a blue crop-top, which is a lot more clothing than I currently am in my naked state.

I meet her blue-eyed gaze for a moment before Ophelia forces me to continue walking. Every one of these omegas have one hell of a long day ahead of them.

Their faces blur as I’m pulled and yanked, even though I’m following Ophelia compliantly. One more omega pulls my gaze before I disappear into another room with the Madam. This girl has long, auburn hair, her body thin but strong. The black lingerie is over the top as she leans against the wall as if waiting for what’s next.

I wish I could have that same fuck-off mentality, but I’ve seen too much, and a pool of dread fills the pit of my stomach from what’s to come.

Nothing good comes from the auctions. Nothing at all.

Thirty minutes later, Ophelia pushes me back out of the room. My face is cleaned up, my makeup redone, and a collar is now fastened around my throat. I was too shocked to fight her before it was on me.

My fingers are twitching from stress, and it feels as if I lost time after the collar. My mind is trying to protect me, but I think the ship has sailed on that project.

There’s a tiny partially see-through white bra on my body, sculpting and lifting my breasts. It shouldn’t be possible for this thing to work, but it does. The thong Ophelia must have forced me into is riding up my ass, and is incredibly uncomfortable.

Taking a breath, I remind myself that I can and will survive this the way I’ve survived everything.

Through sheer determination and grit.

There’s a line of omegas in front of me, and Ophelia pushes me into a place.

“You’ve been quite the hassle to deal with, omega,” she complains. “The least you can do is sell well tonight.”

Ophelia stomps away as I sigh. All thoughts I was gathering to decimate her sad little existence of power scatter as I smell salted caramel popcorn. The scent is so strong, I sway where I stand.

The acrid, stale scent Trey left behind is quickly chased away, and salt sits on my tongue before it marries the sweetness of caramel. Finally, the taste of popcorn follows, making me bite back a whine.

I’ve never whined in my life. What the fuck is happening to me?

There have to be hundreds, possibly thousands of alphas in the audience that’s hidden from my eyes by a curtain. Fate is truly a bitch for one of them to be my scent match.

It’s considered almost an old wives’ tale by omegas to be blessed with finding their scent match, and mine is here.

A warehouse in Jefferson City, here to buy an omega. Shuddering, I ask myself which God’s cheerios I must have pissed in, because that’s the only explanation for my scent match to be here.

The line moves forward, and I stumble after them, my mind a mess.

I don’t know if I should wish my match will scent me and buy me, or if I should wish for the opposite. Who is she or he, and why are they here?

Thoughts bombard me from every direction until the time flies past and I’m being shoved out onto the stage. The bid caller sneers at me as he sees my collar, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck to bring me closer to the edge of the stage.

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