Page 13 of Alpha's Claim

I fall into step beside him. “Is there a meeting?”

“Just a bit of personal business. Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” He waves a hand, and two burly bodyguards block my way. “Enjoy the party.” He leaves the room with his friends.

I step forward but stop when the guards don’t move. “Private party?” I ask, pointing. The last remaining Chinless Chad gets roped by his father and disappears behind closed double doors.

“Invite only. You’re not invited.”

I could crack these goons’ heads together and chasedown Thom, but I don’t need to. I already know what’s happening behind those closed doors. The auction. Thom’s selling off his foster daughter like she’s a medieval princess.

I hope the bidding takes a long time. I’ll need it to get to Paloma.

I shrug like the bodyguards have won and drift back across the ballroom in the direction that the security team took Paloma. I clock a few more thugs in suits standing at that exit, barring the way. Two of them glare at me, and I resist the urge to give them a cheeky salute.

I grab another glass of champagne and sip it. A few models stand around in a circle, looking bored, and I saunter over to them.

“You ladies ever been here before?”

Two of them shake their heads.

“Would you like a tour?”

Ten minutes later, I traipse around the garden with a group of giggling party-goers. A bunch of normal guests followed me and the models. Everyone’s a bit more raucous than usual, probably because I invited them to take shots before we went on the ‘tour’.

“This way.” I step up to a door that’s near the west wing of the house and block everyone’s view with my body, so I can break the lock. “The best paintings are in here.” I lead the group inside.

“Is that a Picasso?” a few people cluster around a cubist painting of a woman.

“Indeed,” I say. “It’s probably worth close to one hundred million dollars.”

Since there’s no sign or scent of Paloma, I stay near the door as the others crowd in.

I catch her scent.

Go,my bear urges. I clamp down on my urge to go roaring down the hall.

“Are you on something?” A model close to me frowns, peering at my face. “Your eyes are…weird.”

“Jaundice,” I tell her, and she looks at me askance. She’s too smart to buy my lie. I wink to make her think it’s all a joke. “I’ve got eye drops in my room. I’ll be right back. I think there’s a Monet further down and around the corner,” I toss over my shoulder as I walk out, prompting squeals of delight.

I follow Paloma’s scent down the corridor. I’m trailed by a dozen party-goers who still see me as their pied piper.

“Hey! What are you doing in here?” a guard shouts as we round a corner. He’s caught the back of the group. “You’re not supposed to be back here.” I’m out of sight, but from the sound of it, he and the other guards are trying to herd guests back to the ballroom. The entitled, inebriated guests turn belligerent, talking back, leaving me free to continue my search.

I follow Paloma’s fresh scent down the hall. I’m deep in the west wing now. I haven’t seen any guards, but I can hear them murmuring to each other somewhere up ahead.

I stride, full steam ahead, and pass a door that smells wrong. I stop and turn the handle. Inside is a small, dark room that looks like a medical examination room at a doctor’s office. There’s an exam table and no other furniture besides a white wall cabinet and freezer unit with a glass door.

This is where the medicinal smell is coming from. Thom told me Paloma wasn’t well but hinted that she has the best medical care money can buy. Her illness has to be serious if there’s a room dedicated to a doctor’s visit here.

I take a moment to search the cabinet drawers. Boxes ofmedical gloves and syringes–everything a doctor or nurse would need to administer a dose of medicine.

The freezer is the sort pharmacists use to keep vaccines at a certain temperature. It holds shelves and shelves of vials filled with blue liquid.

Poison,my bear warns, but that makes sense. Human medicine would smell like poison to an animal. I force myself to open the door and take a sniff, to see if I can detect anything specific. The smell is razor sharp, like tiny blades cutting my nasal passages. Up close, even a human would be able to smell it. I know humans use harsh compounds to save lives–like chemo to target cancer cells–but this smells so wrong.

The sense of urgency to get to Paloma grows. Time is ticking away.

Right now the auction Thom’s running is the perfect distraction. I need to find her before the window of opportunity closes.

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