Page 7 of His Reward
“See you then,” I said.
Caden left, and I went back to work setting up. I definitely needed to read Lucien’s file before I went downstairs for the auction. I wondered if I could use his celebrity in our scene. Then again, since he was famous, he might want to get as far away from his life as possible.
Either way, I was raring to go. Lucien Monteverdi and I were about to have a whole lot of wicked fun.
CHAPTER THREE
Lucien
You had to hand it to the Dark Fantasies Club. Even someone who radically disagreed with its mission and purpose would have admired its organization and commitment to detail.
I showed up at a seedy trailer parked at the foot of Blue Knob Mountain at around nine o’clock, the time assigned to me in the basic information packet that had been delivered to me by special courier that morning. I’d been instructed to dress for a job interview, and sure enough, as soon as I entered the trailer, I was greeted by a handsome beta sitting behind a desk, typing away at an old computer.
“Are you here for the job?” the beta asked in a bored voice.
“I, er, yes?” I replied, playing along like I was some desperate, clueless omega who would have put himself into a shady situation for employment.
The beta nodded and stood, taking a clipboard with a single piece of paper from the corner of the desk. “Fill this out,” he said,bringing the clipboard around to me and pointing to one of the rigid plastic chairs lined against the wall.
I played along, taking a seat and getting to work on the incredibly generic form in front of me. It asked for my name, age, and gender, which I answered honestly. I’d never made any attempt to hide who I was when playing in the Dark Fantasies Club. The rest of the questionnaire made me want to giggle. It asked for intimate information, like my height and weight, eye color, and distinguishing marks, but also asked when I’d had my last heat, how intense my need for an alpha was when I was in heat, on a scale of one to ten, and how much slick I produced.
“Um, are you certain all these questions are really necessary?” I asked, pretending to be completely ignorant.
“Oh, yes,” the beta answered, playing his part well. “Our clients need to know these things.”
“Your…clients?” I blinked, enjoying the acting immensely.
The beta waved his hand. “You don’t need to worry about that end of things. You’re here to interview for the position of executive assistant.”
“Oh, I see.”
I finished the increasingly inappropriate questions—do you scream while orgasming, do you easily have breeding orgasms, have you ever been fisted—then held the clipboard with my finished questionnaire out to the beta once it was done.
The beta took it, looked over the answers with a smile, then gestured for me to stand. “Come with me, Mr. Farrow will see you now.”
Another thing about the Dark Fantasies Club, they didn’t waste time once you were in the scene. Almost as soon as I stepped through the door to the trailer’s private office that the beta held open for me, a huge alpha dressed all in black and wearing a mask grabbed me. I cried out in genuine surprise, butin an instant, the alpha clapped a hand over my mouth and an arm around my middle as he held me from behind.
“Don’t give me any trouble, omega,” he growled against my ear. “You do exactly what I tell you and you won’t get hurt. At least not by me.”
Adrenaline rushed through me as I went limp and whimpered. It was similar to the adrenaline I felt while waiting to step onto the ice or while in the opening pose for my routine before the music started to play. My heart pounded as the alpha lifted me off my feet and dragged me through a door at the back of the trailer’s second office and out into the nighttime forest.
Behind a screen that I hadn’t seen before was a black, unmarked van. The alpha quickly zip-tied my wrists behind me, and once he’d hauled me into the back of the van, he zip-tied my ankles as well. I’d been too shocked to scream at first, but once in the van, I let out a shout. Or at least tried to. The alpha grabbed a piece of duct tape that was attached to the van’s wall, like it had been waiting for me, and slapped it over my mouth. Once that was done, he grabbed a sack from the side and slipped it over my head, tugging a drawstring so it cinched under my chin, blocking out the world.
I’d signed a waiver for everything being done to me, so underneath the surface panic of survival instinct kicking in, I was calm and confident that the professionals knew what they were doing. The alpha slammed the door on me, leaving me alone, bound, gagged, and blind in the back of the van. About fifteen minutes later, I was joined by another panting, whimpering omega, and twenty minutes or so after that, another.
Once there were four of us in the van, someone, the alpha, I assume, hopped in the driver’s seat and drove off up the mountain for about ten minutes. I’d never been to Kincade Slopes before, but I knew that’s where we were going.
We reached a bit of flat ground, probably a parking lot, and the driver stopped. Someone else opened the van’s back doors, and the alpha said, “Fresh meat delivery.”
“They look juicy,” someone else said, probably another alpha by the deep timbre of his voice. He breathed in through his nose and said, “God, they smell good.”
“Maybe we should sample the wares before the auction?” another alpha said.
“Not if you want your balls to remain intact,” the driver said as he walked around the back of the van. “Let’s get them inside and prepped for tonight’s big event.”
They were good. The Dark Fantasies Club was always really good. We were taken in through what had to be a delivery entrance at what felt like the back of the hotel and shuffled on to what was probably a conference room. The information packet I’d read before applying for the auction said that the whole thing would be staged in several of Kincade Slope’s conference and event rooms.
The sack over my head was removed to reveal I was right. We were in a conference room staged to look like a holding pen. There were already a few omegas there, naked, blindfolded, bound at their wrists and ankles, with their wrist restraints fastened to hooks in the top of a solid frame-like structure to one side of the room. All of the omegas panted and shifted in restless panic, but a good half of them were already hard.
