Page 23 of Feral Alphas

One of the hotel staff opens the car door and the kennel boss steps forward, watching me expectantly. Petrov gives me a small push when I hold back and before I know I’m standing outside the car. The metallic and fume smog of the city hits me hard and I cover my nose. There are so many people swirling around us, their scents mix into a giant vat of human body odor that confuses me.

But with so many people, what would happen if I started running and screaming?

Groman offers me his hand. “Take my hand, Rose, and whatever you’re thinking about, don’t. I’ll have you dominated and silent within a second and I’ll carry you inside like a meek little lamb, but I’d prefer not to make a scene.”

I rest my hand in his, offering as little grip as possible. Even if I managed to get away, I wouldn’t know where to go. That doesn’t mean I’ll be his docile wallflower, but right now isn’t the best time. I need to learn where the Omega Crimes Bureau building is and how to get there; if anyone can help me, surely they can.

Here’s my plan: refuse the heat pills, get to the OCB. Survive.

A nagging voice inside my head asks what happens to the feral alphas if I manage all that, but I shut it down as Groman escorts me inside. Sparkling chandeliers crown the expansive foyer, and our shoes click loudly on the geometric marble tiles inlaid with the Romdine Hotels’ logo.

Groman whisks me into an elevator, and I cling to a railing as the metal box shakes and groans upward, leaving my stomachsomewhere on the bottom floor. They seem sturdier on TV. And bigger.

He snickers. “I forget you’ve never experienced some things before. It’s an odd feeling, but it passes quickly.”

Oddis not how I’d describe this closed in sensation of leaving my soul behind.

When the doors open, I leap over the sketchy looking metal gap into the hallway, making him laugh. He swipes a keycard on the panel over door 612 and shoves it open. “This is a bit better than your cage, isn’t it?”

I hesitate on the threshold, wondering if I’m allowed to step into this beautiful space. A giant plush mat sits between two low-backed sofas with ceiling-to-floor windows overlooking the city. The lights overhead dangle in a series of circular rings that look like diamond wedding bands, shining down on polished copper room fittings. Even the walls appear to be made of marble streaked with the same pale tan as the curtains.

“Come in and shut the door, Rose.”

I step in cautiously and the heavy door slams shut behind me. Inside, the room widens, revealing a big bed at the far end and a small kitchen tucked behind the entryway.

“I want you to taste the finer things, so you know all that’s on offer. Go have a bath in the next room, and we’ll talk when you’re done. There’s fresh clothes waiting in there for you.”

Locking the bathroom door gives me enough courage to strip and sink into the spa bath that’s already full of hot water and fragrant bubbles. The irony of the rose scent isn’t lost on me as I scrub every inch and then lie back to rest, wondering how far I can push Groman’s patience.

It seems like he doesn’t care, because when I finally come out, the microwave clock says it’s been an hour and a half, and the view outside the windows is dark, lit by thousands of lights from windows and lamps down on the streets. It’s like the stars have pressed down from the night sky and hang almost within reach. But not for me.

Groman sits on the couch, a glass of dark brown liquid in his hand and one leg crossed over the other as he speaks into his phone. He points around his glass at a set of covered trays on the low table, telling me to sit down.

My stomach rumbles as I uncover a full roast chicken with gravy and vegetables, along with bruschetta rounds and black forest chocolate cake.

“All settled? How bad?” The boss hums as he listens to the response through the phone. “Okay, well, we’ll have to see how he is come morning. It won’t affect the outcome. Any change with Scar? Alright, tomorrow then.”

I pause in tearing off a chicken leg. “That was Petrov?”

“Mhm.”

“Are the alphas okay?”

He snorts. “Funny how you call them that. I suppose to a thirsty omega it makes no difference if they’re man or beast. But yes, the dogs traveled fine. Timon has a temperature, but it’s probably his rut coming on.”

I stiffen and drop the chicken onto my plate before licking my oily fingers and pouring gravy. To me, those men are more alpha than the one who sits across the table in this fancy room, even with names from a children’s movie. They aren’t here by choice, but he is.

He flicks on the TV before dragging over the spare plate for himself and loading it up. We eat in silence watching the Who Wants to Win game show. The food is delicious, but it’s hard to swallow with that one bed standing guard at the far end of the room and Groman within arm’s reach.

When I’m done eating, he switches off the TV and pushes a tiny bottle across the table.

“Smell that.”

Gingerly I unscrew the lid to reveal a golden oil that reeks like an entire person got loaded inside. I gag and recap the lid.

“Omega?” I ask, my stomach complaining.

“Yes.” He leans over and spears a forkful of his piece of chocolate cake and offers it to me. I take it only to dispel that sharp odor. The chocolate melts on my tongue, the sugar and cream dispelling most of the scent. “That’s known as haze. Alphas and betas go wild over it.”

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