Ravished By The Alphas Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance: Read Chapters 1-5

VALERIE

Heat surged in my belly. Bright lights wavered in and out of focus as I blinked through the haze of mist. I saw bare flesh, carnal muscles, and handsome faces. A trio of beasts tangled around me.

Their fingers trailed down my naked body, sending coarse chills down my spine.

“How do you feel, Valerie?” One held my hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against my knuckles. I wanted to speak. But the only sound I could make was a moan.

The one behind me chuckled. “She’s in heat.” His laughter was soft, and his body felt warm. “Let me help you,” he purred in my ear. He tilted my head up and brushed a feather-light kiss against the corner of my mouth. “You want to play rough, or gentle?” he grinned, asking against my lips.

“Don’t be so selfish with her, Lucas.” said another. He towered over me. His fingers dented into my skin. He pulled my leg up as he bent down, his lips brushing kisses against my thigh.

I recoiled. But he gripped my ankle and nipped at my skin as a warn.

“There’s no way you can run, Valerie.” He bloodshot eyes met mine, blazing with hunger and lust.

“You belong to us.”

***

We were released from our cages the moment the sun crested the mountains.

I followed the other girls, heads bobbing and feet shuffling in the darkness. Our hands were cuffed, and our legs chained, making it difficult to keep in step with one another.

But we had grown used to this.

The corridor we traveled through was damp and cold. I could remember the sounds and smells of this place better than my own name.

It was our home.

I had only reached the fourth step when Aunt Louis gave me a shove.

“Hurry up!”

I scowled to the shadows and quickened my pace, avoiding eye-contact with the sour aunt.

Clearly, Aunt Louis wasn’t in a good mood today. No one was surprised by this; all of the aunts had been terribly moody over the past dew days.

It was a dry season and slave business had been lacking. This was not unusual during the werewolf’s mating season, but it cast a dark cloud over the shop.

The aunts hadn’t sold a single slave in two weeks.

No wonder they were so riled up.

They weren’t really our aunts. We called them by the name because they were the closest things we had to guardians. A handful of old she-wolves who made their living by ensuring we were properly trained and sold for slave-hood.

By all rights, they owned us until we were sold to masters. Then those masters could do whatever they saw fit to us.

We quickly gathered in the lobby, expanding our line into a half-circle around Aunt Rita. She held up a sheet of paper and a pen and began her usual roll call.

“114.”

“Present.”

“115.”

“Present.”

“118.”

For each number called, a small voice responded present.

We did not have names in this place. Numbers were all they gave us. Names were too difficult for the wolves to remember. And what was the point in remembering the name of someone who would soon be sold off and never heard from again?

“120,” Aunt Rita went on.

Our eyes stayed low; our heads bowed. We watched the cracks on the floor as we listened to each of our sisters call out in their tiny voices, “Present.”

This was a daily measure to insure we were all accounted for—but I had a theory that it was more than that.

It was a reminder of who we were and what our place in this world was.

We were Slaves. We were among the lowest class in this hell world. The beasts took our world and grabbed our lives in their hands.

When roll call came to an end, the aunts gathered to discuss the arrangements for the day. Who would be placed in the display cases, and who would be “shelved” in the back. To spotlight certain slaves on just the right day was the key to reeling in a desperate buyer.

It was all business—something wolves were terrible at. If they really wanted a sale during the slow seasons, they should’ve put the more appealing slaves on display. But rather, the aunts did the opposite, saving the highest quality slaves for the busy season.

Humans used to say that werewolves were all brawns and no brains. And the more I learned about werewolves, the more I found myself agreeing.

Somehow, despite that…they were still victorious when the war ended.

I supposed brawns were just as valuable.

“127,” called Aunt Rita. My head snapped up. “You’ll be on display today.”

I cleared my throat uncomfortably and nodded.

I despised the display cases. They always made me so claustrophobic, and it didn’t help to feel the hungry eyes of dozens of potential masters passing by in a day.

Of course, none of them were very interested. Not in someone like me.

I was always unwanted for my strangeness.

Another girl was called up to the display case, where we were painted in subtle makeup—a soft powder and a tint rubbed on our lips to turn them the shade of cherry juice.

They dressed us as well—though sparsely. We were stripped down to our drawers, and a long white cloth was wrapped once around our chests and twice around our hips. It was important that potential buyers could see our forms.

Then we were placed on chairs in front of large glass panes. We smiled at every soul that passed by, but no one seemed particularly interested in dropping in.

In fact, the streets were barren today. The entire market looked a little drab.

Then I felt a slight nudge and looked to the girl beside me. “Want to talk?” she asked. “I’m feeling very dull.”

She spoke beneath her breath and didn’t look my way. We had all learned to speak without making much sound. The aunts would be angry if they heard chatter coming from us.

I chanced another glance at her before turning my attention back on the streets.

I didn’t reply.

I’d spoken to this girl once before. Her name was Ashley—she was new, just sent in a week ago. That explained why she was so perky and positive all the time.

Dull.

I wondered what Ashley meant by dull. Was she bored of this place?

It wouldn’t stay that way for long. The mating festival would arrive soon, and after that, unmated wolves would be piling into every slave shop on the strip to seek out some poor girl to sate their excessive sexual hunger. Then, not long after that, the vampires would wake up from their annual sleep and look for fresh blood.

But Ashley was new here, which meant she was still oblivious to how hopeless our world was.

She nudged me again. “Hey, did you hear about what happened yesterday? Some of the girls overheard the Aunts talking—they said a wolf went crazy in the market and murdered a bunch of slaves. Injured a ton of masters, too. They said the Alpha’s pissed about it—that he’s coming to canvas the damage.”

I was curious and none of the aunts seemed to be catching on to Ashley’s whispers, so I dared to ask, “Why did he do it?”

“No one knows,” Ashley said. “Aunt Louis said he was drunk at the festival celebration, but Aunt Rita doubted it and said he must’ve been possessed by evil spirits.”

My stomach turned at the thought of all those poor slaves, ripped to ribbons by the claws of a frenzied wolf. But in the end, it had nothing to do with us. The incident in question happened on an entirely different street—somewhere on the other side of the market, surely.

“How scary…” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“You two at the front!” one of the Aunts shouted. “Stop your squawking and pay attention to our guests!”

I wanted to argue that we hadn’t any guests yet, but arguing with the Aunts never ended well for anyone.

Ashley and I went silent after that, forcing smiles at the empty streets.

Suddenly, a disturbance swept over the shop. The aunts went stiff.

I could see them in the reflection of the glass—their entire posture perked up as if they could hear a distant sound. One by one, they dropped everything they were doing and approached the front of the shop.

When a knock came at the door, they pried it open hastily and stepped aside, their heads bowed in some strange submissive form.

I wanted to look, but I would be disciplined if I took my eyes from the window. So I listened instead.

A noise hit my ears. Something I’d never heard before—something that made my hair stand on end. A growl. Someone chanting. Whispers and murmurs. Then, among the culmination of noises, one word reached my ears.

A word that made my blood run cold.

Alpha.

VALERIE

None of us had seen the Alpha. His name was one that was tossed around constantly, almost like a fictional character from a fairytale, or a celebrity always causing waves.

The Aunts spoke about him often—but their stories and gossip about the Alpha were flung around for the sake of entertainment and nothing more. No one ever seriously expected to meet him.

They said he was young. They said he was smart and handsome. They said that he would be mated this year. Last I’d heard them speak of the Alpha, the aunts mentioned that he was betrothed to the princess of the northern Eclipse pack.

Thinking about it, their engagement should have been just on the horizon.

The Alpha wasn’t only a celebrity to the Aunts, but also a tool they used to keep us in line. “You should be happy to live such comfortable lives,” they would remind us. “Be grateful to the Alpha for his generosity.”

It was a silly thing, to be grateful for the lives we had been fated with. But the aunts had a point; the Alpha was far more benevolent than his predecessor.

Two years ago, he took the throne from his father and made a decree that changed the way slave shops operated. Slaves were given meat and milk every week, physical abuse from our shop masters was prohibited, and female slaves were separated by males and managed strictly by she-wolves.

It was grim to think of life before the new Alpha. I couldn’t imagine what slaves went through before the decree. Some slaves thought of the new Alpha as a hero, but it was difficult to tell if his decisions were made out of mercy or convenience. After all, the turnover rate had improved. It was a huge improvement to his economy.

Occasionally, slaves also spoke of the Alpha, but we knew only what we had been told. Gossip between us was mostly imaginative. He had become known as a savior to some—foolish girls who dreamed silly little fantasies about a white-knighted Alpha king stealing them away.

Ashley craned forward, her long blonde hair sweeping her crossed knees. “Did you hear them?” she asked, her whispers elevated in excitement. “It’s the Alpha!”

Too loud. She was too loud.

I grimaced as a shout came from the back, “You two! Keep your head down!”

I dropped my head before Ashley did. I didn’t care about the Alphas. I didn’t care about the fantasies of romantic, loving masters. I had no place imagining myself like that.

I wouldn’t be bought by anyone.

I focused on my reflection in the glass, reminding myself of my strange indigo eyes, of the dark birthmark staining my neck.

The chatter from the front door wrenched me out of my thoughts. The Alpha had stepped inside, followed by three male wolves, large and muscled and attentive.

The Alpha’s footsteps were like thunder, striking the ground. One loud, heavy step and then another. It sounded the way I imagined monsters walked—with powerful, labored steps.

I couldn’t help but look.

I glanced over my shoulder, watching him stride, his black boots embroidered with the mark of the Silver Moon pack. He was a large figure, passing through a shop filled with much smaller beings.

I supposed that was why his footsteps sounded so heavy.

The aunts had not over-exaggerated when they gossiped about how handsome he was. I almost understood the slaves’ fascination with him. He was tall and muscled, young and sharp. His eyes swept the room with calculation and control.

He was very attractive.

I suppressed a shiver and turned my eyes away, forcing a smile at a stranger passing by. They paid me no mind and shuffled along with their head low.

I couldn’t grasp their conversation until they’d entered the room. Then the words became much more clear.

“Business has been…a bit slow,” one of the aunts was saying.

“I see,” replied the Alpha. His voice was coarse and smoky—but smooth. The voice of a man who knew his power. “Fortunately for you, that seems to be the general consensus around the market. But I haven’t come here to talk business. I’m investigating the incident that took place in the trade district yesterday evening.”

I glanced to Ashley, who met my eyes with a look of excitement and curiosity. He had come to investigate the attack.

“Oh,” replied a second aunt. “Well, that’s a good walk from here. We only heard word of that late last night. Terrible situation though, isn’t it?”

The Alpha hummed, a deep low sound from his chest. “I understand. Please keep an eye out for any…unusual guest activity.”

“Of course, my Alpha,” replied several of the aunts at once.

One complimented him on his health, then another congratulated him on his upcoming engagement to the Northern Princess.

Then he passed behind us.

I listened to his footsteps, one after another, floating past me like a ghost. Then…suddenly, they stopped.

I glanced up to the glass, catching his silhouette in the reflection. He was standing behind me, staring in my direction.

I swallowed, my heartbeat steadily elevating in my chest as he began to move again, coming closer. Closer. Suddenly, I was watching his boots sweep in front of me. I felt his eyes on me, pressing in on me with a curious gaze. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t utter a sound. Just stood there. But I could sense the strange emotion ebbing off of him, maybe a sudden flux of irritation or bloodlust at the sight of me.

I didn’t understand why he kept looking at me.

I kept my eyes on the floorboards, gripping the sides of my seat, too fearful to look up.

We were supposed to smile at all guests, but how was I to work up a grin with the great Alpha glowering at me from inches away?

My heart stammered.

Did I annoy him? Was it because I was too ugly and strange for the display box?

My breath quivered. I wanted to cry.

One of the aunts spoke up, “Oh, are you interested in a slave, my Alpha? I can assure you, we have a very nice selection of virgins.”

VALERIE

Certified virgin slaves were a rare commodity, because it was difficult to ensure a girl was intact. Werewolves didn’t know much about human anatomy, and they didn’t care to invest the time into checking each and every one of us. But the girls at this particular shop were extracted from The Cell—a place where underage humans were imprisoned until they reached the ripe age of sixteen.

For most of us, there was no chance to ruin ourselves. In fact, for most of us, it had been a decade since we saw a human boy in person.

I was brought to The Cell at thirteen-years-old. They stuck me in that place for three years, before I was transported here, to Lockheart Botique—a small slave emporium in the market district. Sixteen was not the age of purchase for a slave, but rather, the age where we first began our lessons. We were taught how to provide for our masters, how to please them, and how to act as good service for the rest of our lives. The aunts wanted us well-prepared before we reached the proper selling age of eighteen. After all, a slave’s attitude toward their master was their most important attribute.

Since the new Alpha took reign, this practice had stopped. Now, slaves had to be eighteen before they were traded at all. The other slaves thought of this as a blessing. But I did not find much mercy in it.

At least in The Cell, we were safe from the potential masters who stalked our store front, hungrily eying girls like they were meat on hooks.

I tried not to meet the Alpha’s eyes as I felt his gaze boring into me. I was afraid if I glanced him in the face, my expression would be red-hot with anger.

If he was truly the blessed Alpha everyone thought him to be, he would have eliminated slavery altogether. He was no better than the others.

He was no hero to us.

The Alpha glanced past my shoulder to Aunt Louis. “What’s her background?” he asked.

Of course, Aunt Louis thought he was referring to Ashley. Fair-haired, light-eyed slaves like her were best-sellers.

“Oh, you’re a fan of blondes? Well, this here is one of the new girls. The cell sent her here just a week ago,” said Aunt Louis. “She’s clean, I can assure you. But I do believe we have more suitable girls in the back of the store. We don’t put them on display until the busy seasons. Let me show you—“

“No,” said the Alpha. “This one.” His hard eyes slid over to me and stuck on my face like thorns. It was only then that I realized I was looking directly at him. My heart sank and I tore my gaze away, watching a grow whip past the window to snatch a worm up from a puddle.

Lucky worm, I thought. How I would give anything to be snatched up and eaten by a bird right now.

“O-oh,” said Aunt Louis. “Well, certainly I have more just like her. I’ll go fetch one of a more…acceptable breed.”

“No,” said the Alpha. “I want to know about her. What do you mean by ‘acceptable breed’?”

“W-well,” Aunt Louis stammered, “I’m afraid she’s not clean. Her parents were criminals.” She came closer and lifted my wrist with a jerk to show The Alpha the wristband I wore.

The mark of filth.

To be unclean meant I had been related to one of the various crimes committed against werewolves during the war.

This, however, was a lie.

Wolves accused my parents of heinous things and killed them without evidence and without hesitation. They were not criminals, and I was not the child of criminals, but I wore the band anyway. I could not take it off if I tried; it had wrapped around my wrist and melded at the metal chain. It was only to be broken by my future master.

To wolves, this wristband signified that I was unworthy of purchase—but it was also as good as a sales tag, announcing a lower price for my purchase than the other girls. Even still, no one wanted me.

“I asked you what her background was,” said the Alpha with a bite of impatience.

“I’ll go get her records,” Aunt Rita volunteered, scuttling to the back of the room.

“We keep records of all the girls,” Aunt Louis assured the Alpha. “Our policy is transparency.

Aunt Rita rushed to a locker in the back of the room and pried open a drawer full of organized files. Several of the other aunts fluttered over to help her. I had never seen them in such disarray before, but I supposed it was to be expected. Time was of the essence with all customers, but the Alpha was a special case. To keep the Alpha waiting would put them in very bad lighting.

And after all, this was the first time he had ever visited the shop. For the Aunts, it could be the only chance they had to make an impression on him, which seemed difficult given that they were all nervous wrecks.

It was all quite funny to me. I could have easily spit out my name, my background, what happened before I arrived in the Cell and who my family was. But slaves were not allowed to speak in front of buyers—and to do so in front of such a prestigious wolf would be the end of me.

“Number one-two-seven…number one-two-seven…” Rita was muttering in a panic. Then she drew a file from the drawer. “Found it! Number one-two-seven!” She crossed the store, splaying the file open in her hands. “Number one-hundred-and-twenty-seven. Valerie Davis. Her parents were executed during the second raid on the human town named Westshield, fifty miles from Orheroad.”

I felt myself flinch at the word executed. At the memories of my hometown. Of home. My eyes settled on the floorboards at my feet.

“What was the meaning of their execution?” asked the Alpha.

“According to this, they were accused of…” she hesitated, flipping to another page. “They were accused of…” There was a pause. Then Aunt Rita continued, “Missing.”

“Missing?” asked the Alpha. “What do you mean by missing?”

“It isn’t here,” said Rita, a bead of sweat suddenly forming on her brow. She flipped and flipped, then looked up with a lost expression. “The records don’t show the accusations on her parents.”

I let out a deep, aching breath. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or cry. How ridiculous. The court had yet to decide what crime my parents had committed, and yet…it had been years since their slaughter.

It made no sense. Each and every human found guilty of a crime had an accusation and a sentencing. There were so many ways to be sentenced for crimes against wolves; killing a werewolf, attacking one, engaging in a plot meant to harm wolves. No matter what the reason, wolves always made certain that humans faced the cruelest punishment available. They were ruthless in our sentencing.

But they were not the smartest of the races. Errors were made often in the judicial system.

It was nothing to werewolves—not even a mistake worth looking into. But to me, it was my entire life. It was my family.

The Alpha’s shadow swept over the floorboards at my feet. I realized he was moving closer. Trying to get a look at me.

But he remained silence.

So that’s the end, I thought.

Then, suddenly, I felt his fingers beneath my chin. Strong but gentle, he lifted my gaze from the floor and forced it upon his.

“Tell me. What had your parent’s done?”

Valerie

I couldn’t breathe.

I hadn’t expected the Alpha to address me directly. No one addressed slaves directly. We were property and doing so was about the equivalent of speaking to vase or a painting on the wall. We were expensive, but not valuable. We were disposable. We weren’t people, but things.

What had your parents done?

I wished I knew. I wished I could formulate any kind of proper response, but my blood was in my face and my heart was in my throat, and words were not something I could choke out when the Alpha’s eyes bore into me like this.

I wish I knew what my parents had done. I wish I could absolve myself of the anger and suspicion. I almost wished they were guilty of some heinous crime, so my heart would stop beating with vengeance at the mention of them.

I didn’t know how to answer.

I felt a slap on the back of my chair, and a whoosh of air—like it had been whipped with a twisted rag. “The Alpha asked you a question!” Aunt Rita snipped. The aunts loved to threaten us with the little rags they carried around to dust the shops, but really, they weren’t allowed to lay a hand on us. Even knowing that, I coiled at the thought of what they might do to me if I did not comply.

The Alpha’s calculating eyes slid up to Aunt Rita’s face. “I appreciate your help,” he said, sounding like he didn’t much appreciate it at all, “but please allow me to give the orders.”

Aunt Rita turned a shade of pink and retreated back a step to bow her head and nod. “Yes, my Alpha. I do not mean to interfere.” She rang the rag in her hands. “My concern is only…well, this girl is not the best choice for you. We have better—“

“Is she a virgin?” asked the Alpha.

Aunt Rita opened her mouth, but no words came out. It was as if she couldn’t possibly imagine anyone would want a slave like me—especially the Alpha.

She wasn’t wrong. I was not as pretty in body or face as the others. And I was…flawed.

When Aunt Rita failed to answer, Aunt Louis stepped up. “Yes. She is a virgin.”

The Alpha gave me a steady once-over. “Why hasn’t anyone purchased her yet?”

I tried not to meet his eyes, but I could feel his gaze burning into my skin no matter where I looked. Suddenly, my flesh was on fire. My clothes were too small, too constrictive.

“Her eyes,” Aunt Louis answered flatly.

“Eyes?” asked the Alpha.

“They’re quite peculiar. Different from the other girls. Guests find it…ominous.”

“Ominous?” Aunt Louis’s explanation seemed to only pique the Alpha’s interest more. He suppressed a chuckle and said, “My wolves? Afraid of a little human girl?”

Aunt Rita pressed her lips into a flat line. Then softly, she explained, “Her eyes are considered…a bad omen.”

I had heard mention of my eyes before—how some guests thought them to be hideous and others were intrigued, but afraid of what the color in might mean. Never had I heard they were a bad omen, but I supposed it made sense. Even the aunts were often too afraid to get close to me—like I might strike and bite them on the palm like a cottonmouth.

“Look at me,” the Alpha ordered. “Let me see your eyes.”

I was afraid to. I had kept my gaze on the reflection of the glass, the floorboards—even the lapel of his jacket. But I could not look him in the eyes.

When finally I did force my gaze to his face, I was struck by the beauty of him. I had never seen him so closely before. His face was sure and strong, young and handsome. His hair was short and black, but untidy. It looked mussed, like he had just run a hand through it prior before coming in—something I had not expected from a wolf of such high regard.

His eyes were low and sheening in the light of the chandelier above. A lovely gray color, with a shimmer of blue in the depths. At first, they looked calm and easy—the eyes of a man who knew his power and feared no one. Then, as they stared into mine, they began to widen.

I looked away, afraid that he would fear me like the others. That maybe, he’d think me a monster and have me sentenced to death for this omen the aunts spoke of. But as I turned away, the Alpha cupped my jaw and turned my gaze back to him.

His eyes were heavy—cutting through me like blades. The expression in them was curious and perplexed, like he was looking into a math equation, rather than a set of human eyes. His brows furrowed and his head tilted slightly to the side.

I shivered. The longer he stared at me, the more I felt my clothes stripped away fiber by fiber. I had been comfortable in my rags a moment ago, but now I felt naked under his gaze.

“It is unique,” he commented and turned my head gently to see the mark on my neck. “Did you get this in the war?” he asked. I felt his fingers graze the skin feather-light before I jerked away, frightened by his touch.

“It is alright,” said the Alpha, lowly—as if only I was meant to hear. “I won’t touch you again.” Somehow, even though he frightened me, his comfort settled inside of me like a warm ember.

He let go of me and drew back, waiting for an answer.

I clutched my fingers into a fist to keep from covering the side of my neck and replied, my voice trembling, “It is a birthmark.”

“A birthmark,” the Alpha echoed. “Interesting.” He straightened and clasped his hands behind his back—the proper stature of a wolf who knew war. “I suppose I could use one more servant to help in the castle. What do you think, Ralph?”

I had not noticed the man standing beside him until the wolf was clearing his throat and bowing. “Whatever you see fit, sir.”

“I’ll take her,” said the Alpha.

My heart doubled—or perhaps it stopped. I wasn’t sure anymore.

“What is her price?” he asked.

At first, no one responded. The aunts looked frozen, their mouths ajar, each of them glancing to one another in awe.

I could tell they would have loved to be rid of me. But they feared the repercussions. Giving away such an underwhelming slave to someone like the Alpha…the aunts would never put their reputation at risk like that.

“My Alpha,” stammered Aunt Rita, “I’m afraid she’s too dangerous. She’s the child of criminals—of men who used violence against our kind. Goddess knows what she will do.”

“What is your name?” asked the Alpha, his eyes on Aunt Rita now.

“R-Rita,” she stammered.

“Rita,” replied the Alpha. “I don’t think it would be wise of you to challenge a guest’s decision so vehemently.” The color drained from Aunt Rita’s face. At the mortified look she wore, the Alpha’s lips cracked into a slight smile. It looked like he was biting back another laugh. “I understand you concern,” he said kindly, “but if I can’t handle something like this, who do you think will be able to?”

Aunt Rita let out an exhale—looking a little dizzy as she stepped back and bowed. “Her price is five-hundred coins, my Alpha.”

Five-hundred coin?

Were they joking?

Five-hundred could would have bought most of the girls in this place. The aunts were either very daring or very stupid, taking advantage of the Alpha like this.

The Alpha’s eyes fell back to mine. My heart beat against my ribs like a hammer, eating thump making me more and more lightheaded than the last.

“Five-hundred it is,” said the Alpha. He snapped his fingers and his guard stepped forward with a sack of coins in his hand.

Valerie

I gulped.

One of the Alpha’s men came forward and offered a hand to help me from my chair. I wobbled as I stood, my legs numb and weak beneath me.

The moment they had the coin in their hands, the mood in the shop shifted dramatically. Smiles blossomed over their faces and they looked to one another giddily. “How generous of you, my Alpha. You are correct—she is quite a unique girl. Won’t find another like her. Please do enjoy!”

Aunt Rita, who just a moment ago looked like she was going to faint, was suddenly revitalized. She fluttered in front of him and gestured back toward a large display of “tools” used to keep slaves in line. Things like collars, cuffs, whips and a variety of toys—some I knew the purpose of and others that were simply question-marks on the wall.

I shivered at the thought of any of those items being used on me.

The Alpha’s gaze flickered back to me. There was a slight tilt to his lips—the slightest twitch of a smirk as he said, “No need, thank you.”

My stomach twisted into a knot.

No need? Did he already have tools of his own?

The Aunts escorted us out, buzzing about the Alpha with glee. If they had trumpets, they would most certainly be sounding them into the market to celebrate such a bountiful sale.

We stopped at the doors, where my hands were cuffed and my feet chained with a fresh set of cuffs. They were like parting gifts to all of us the moment we were purchased—shiny new metal binds, taken from fresh packaging and placed around our wrists and ankles.

As I followed the Alpha out of the shop, one of his wolves kept a tight hand curled around my arm as if I might try to escape.

He was just as smart as he looked if he thought I could run with these heavy cuffs on my ankles. I could hardly walk on level ground.

The moment we stepped out, I was overwhelmed by the harsh sunlight. It had been so long since I had seen the outside world. The sun was pins in my eyes and fire on my skin.

I passed by the highest of the Alpha’s guards who was waiting out front. His gaze stuck on me narrowly. I could tell he did not favor me, nor did he understand the Alpha’s decision to purchase me.

I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t understand it, either.

I watched the Alpha’s back as we walked, trying with all I had to remain calm.

As I walked, I began to remember the area around us. The last time I had seen this place was the day I was transported here to the shop. The streets were too narrow for cars, so slaves were unloaded from a van and walked on foot like cattle.

The sun had been as bright back then as it was today and I hated it.

The sun made me hopeful. And hope was unrealistic.

Back then, the thought of escaping had flickered to mind. The shops didn’t have strict security the way the Cell did. The walk down the strip could have been my only chance at freedom.

Ava laughed at me when I told her this. “You’re dumber than you look if you think that will work,” she’d said. She had been my only friend, Ava Grace.

I thought maybe it was because Ava had flaws like me—a big ugly scar on her belly that looked a lot like the mark on my neck. Or maybe it was because we both had dreams of freedom.

“How are you going to make a living?” Ava had asked me as we shuffled in one, long, slow line toward the slave shop. “Even if you do get out of here, how will you survive on your own?”

“My father taught me to survive for weeks on my own in the wilderness,” I told her. “As long as I can find water, I’ll live.”

Ava laughed at me, as if we weren’t marching straight toward our doom. “This isn’t reality TV, love. I mean, you don’t really know where we are, do you? This place is a desert. No forests, no lakes, not even bugs could survive out there. It’s called the Demilitarized Zone for a reason. You know what’s out there waiting for you?”

“I know,” I groaned, hoping it would be the end of her lecture.

Ava ignored my reply. “Werewolves, vampires, dragons—creatures we probably don’t even know exist. They’re all out there, hungry and looking for a little girl like you to walk right into their nest. And out there, they can do whatever they want to you. Chances are, before you even find a source of water, you’ll be ripped up by a rogue wolf or drained by a starved vampire—or if you’re lucky enough, you might be captured as an ambulatory uterus by one of those dragons you always hear tales about.”

I was shocked and a little sickened by how much she knew of the Demilitarization Zone. “Where did you get all this information?” I asked.

Ava grinned. She was always smiling in the darkest of times. “Where do you think I got these?” she said, flashing the scars on her belly.

Even now, as I walked in the Alpha’s shadow, I saw the ghost of Ava trotting in her shackles toward the slave shop. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. Every time I thought of her, it was like a knife going through my ribs.

I didn’t know if she was dead or alive.

All I knew was that Ava was purchased by an old wolf during the high season a year ago. A horrible older man with jagged scars on his face and a look of terrible intention in his eyes. A veteran of the war. A man who knew how to hurt.

Even that day, as she was led out of the shop in her shackles, Ava smiled back at me.

Tears pricked my eyes.

Ava. I couldn’t help Ava and I couldn’t help myself. For so long, we dreamed of freedom together. We fantasized about running away—about the moments we reached the islands and started our new lives.

And yet we met the same fate. Our lives would never be our own.

Suddenly, the Alpha stopped.

I bumped into his back, not realizing he’d come to a halt. Quickly, I scurried back, bowing my head in apology. The Alpha turned to look at me, and I felt a shudder run down my spine at the thought of what his intentions might be.

Surely, he hadn’t purchased me for the same reason the old wolf had purchased Ava. Ava was beautiful, even with her scars. I wasn’t.

For a long time, he stared at me in silence. My heart ticked in my throat like the hands of a clock. Then the Alpha said, “Chad, give her your coat.”

One of the guards complied, though I didn’t look up to see who. Suddenly, a warm fabric was throne over my shoulders. I wrapped myself in the jacket and looked up slowly to see the Alpha leaning in close to get a good look at me.

He took the lapels of the jacket and tugged them around my neck. “Much better,” he muttered, as if he didn’t want the others to hear. “Your lips were turning blue.”

I felt like a startled rabbit, my heart stammering endlessly in my chest. I tucked my head down. I didn’t know how to react—didn’t know what to say. They had taught us how to behave with masters, not Alphas.

I wanted to utter a thank you, but I feared talking at all. I remained silent and held the jacket tight around me.

He was so strange, this young Alpha. Why was he so considerate of a simple slave?

Why had he taken me at all?