Page 26 of Fired at the Heart

The Omega nearest to me is a woman with auburn hair cut in a severe bob. Her eyes flicker to mine, the momentary connection speaking volumes. She’s still present, still fighting somewhere inside.

I turn my head before I’m tempted to offer something I can’t guarantee.

“See anything you like?” Vince nudges Raphael with his elbow, his attention shifting toward the woman. “This one’s spirited. Took three of my men to subdue her when we brought her in.”

The woman’s head drops, but not before I catch a flash of defiance.

Good. Hold on to that.

“I’m in search of something special.” Raphael’s hand settles on the small of my back again. “My pet is quite particular about who joins our household.”

Vince’s eyebrows rise, and he studies me with renewed interest. “Fascinating. Most Alphas who come here don’t give their toys such… agency.”

“I find it makes for a more harmonious household.” Raphael’s thumb traces small circles at the base of my spine. “Sometimes, he’s better at anticipating what I want than I am.”

I force myself deeper into character, leaning into Raphael’s touch and offering a coy smile. “I only want to be certain you’re satisfied, Alpha.”

The words burn on the way out. I’ve fought my entire career to be seen as more than just an Omega, building my reputation in the underground weapons trade on competence and ruthlessness, not biology. Yet here I am, playing into every stereotype I’ve spent years defying.

Vince watches our exchange with greedy interest, his attention lingering on where Raphael’s hand touches my skin. “You’ve trained this one well. Perhaps you could give me some pointers. My merchandise can be reluctant at the start.”

“It’s all about finding the right motivation.” Raphael’s voice takes on that Alpha timbre that used to undo me. “This one has learned that the rewards for good behavior are worth the effort.”

I let my focus wander the room again, seeking a distraction from this conversation. The space is circular, with plush seating areas arranged like the spokes of a wheel. The center holds a raised platform for displaying the merchandise. The walls are deep burgundy, with the dark hardwood floors polished to a high shine.

No windows, as expected. One main entrance, the door we came through, and what appears to be a service door on the far side, guarded by a burly Alpha with a blank expression.

“This one has unusual coloring.” Vince gestures to a male Omega with striking purple irises. “Genetic modification. New on the market and extremely rare. The color responds to Alpha pheromones by changing hue. Quite expensive, of course, but well within your means.”

The Omega stares ahead, his strange eyes unfocused. He wears flowing lavender pants to match his irises with a short, open vest to leave most of his torso bare. His skin has an almost pearlescent quality under the soft lighting.

“Interesting, but a little too flamboyant.” Raphael plays his part perfectly. “I want to complement my pet, not outshine him.”

“Why don’t you come closer to examine the merchandise?” Vince motions toward the assembled Omegas with a casual flick of his wrist. “You’re welcome to handle the goods. That’s what they’re here for.”

Around the room, the Omegas stiffen, each of them lowering their heads as if searching for new spots on the floor to focus on. Anger coils in my chest, so intense it almost burns through my cover.

Raphael gives me a gentle push toward the seating area. “Wait there, pet. Let me see what we’re working with first.”

I obey, playing my role while every instinct screams to reach for my weapon. Settling onto a plush crimson chaise lounge, I arrange myself in what I hope is a decorative pose, legs crossed at the ankles to maintain access to my holster. From here, I have a clear view of both the access points and the guards.

Raphael approaches the Omegas with the confident stride of a man accustomed to getting what he wants. His broad shoulders and commanding presence draw every eye in the room, a gravitational pull that’s both natural and practiced.

Vince follows a step behind, eager at the prospect of a sale. “This one has been trained in classical arts.” He places his hand on the shoulder of a slender male Omega with copper-colored hair. “Piano, poetry, and dance. A cultured companion for your more refined evenings.”

The Omega raises his head, revealing irises the color of burnished gold, but his stare is vacant from the drugs used to keep them compliant.

“Interesting.” Raphael reaches out to touch the Omega’s face.

A hot spike of possessiveness shoots through me as Raphael’s fingers trace the line of the Omega’s jaw. It’s irrational, this jealousy. Absurd. Raphael is acting, playing a role just as I am. And even if he weren’t, I don’t care what he does with other people.

Yet I can’t deny the tightening in my chest as Raphael’s thumb brushes over the Omega’s lower lip, a gesture so intimate that my own lips tingle in phantom response.

“Very nice skin tone.” Raphael tilts the Omega’s head up toward the light. “What else can he do besides look pretty?”

Vince smiles, all teeth and no warmth. “Anything you desire. That’s the beauty of proper training.”

Raphael moves to the next Omega in line, a woman with alabaster skin and coal-black hair down to her waist. His hands skim down her bare arms, and I see red as I resist the urge to launch across the room and remind him there’s only one Omega he should be touching.

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