She had wanted to study history at the Academy, perhaps become an academic or a researcher and unearth the secrets that hadn’t survived the great wars of the past. According to the archive records, the people of Earth past had used nuclear energy not to power their world but to destroy it. That destruction had forced civilization into the sky structures and off of the large swathes of the planet too damaged by fallout and radiation to be habitable.
The rich kept themselves sequestered in the highest levels, also called the Astropolis. The air was purest there with an unobstructed view of the red-hazed atmosphere fronted by smoky clouds like puffs from a water-pipe.
There had not always been Alphas, or Omegas for that matter. She had heard stories of humans who escaped the planet in massive flying ships before the worst of the destruction. Some said that they were still out there, whole civilizations that flourished in the stars without the sickness and ruin that existed down below. The space fleet had never discovered any evidence of their existence. Just another story to tell around the fire at night to soothe those naïve enough to hope for something better.
Ianthe often wondered what it must have been like to have the freedom to choose your own destiny, to not be so trapped by a trick of birth. Alphas ruled the Astropolis, for reasons that went beyond just their physical size and strength. The ability to dominate was written into their biology. By contrast, Betas and Omegas had no capacity to challenge them whether or not they desired to. One primal roar and the lesser dynamics would be reduced to a quivering mass on their knees.
But Omegas had it worst of all. They were thought to have an intrinsic need for subservience, one that was very difficult to overcome. Even with the chemical restraints that suppressed hormone response, the urge was difficult to ignore.
Most Omegas, of the few that existed, succumbed to their biology. The luckier ones were bonded to powerful Alphas, mated and bred then kept as pets in the gilded cages of the sky levels. Others used chemical cocktails concocted in black market labs to suppress the natural response to an Alpha and prevent a heat cycle.
The alterants were more reliable than they used to be. Ianthe had heard horror stories of Omegas whose chemical castration had failed them at inopportune times, finding themselves claimed and mated against their will, or worse. Not all Alphas could control their baser urges during a rut. An Omega caught unawares might not survive.
It was expected that Omegas reveal their orientation after entering puberty, when the dynamic generally became apparent, enduring Alpha attention in exchange for a better life. The only way up for a slum-born Omega was trading cunt for comfort.
Except Omegas had no rights. In the eyes of the law, laid down by Central Command, Omegas were property. Political Alphas spun this to be to the Omegas benefit, maintaining the line that an Omega only remained safe through mating. Alphas could not be expected to maintain constant control of their urges and a free Omega faced the perpetual risk of being ravaged. They needed to be “protected”.
It was total bullshit, of course.
Alphas took what they wanted from the Betas and Omegas of the lower levels. Just because they’d written their sovereignty into law, able to violate without the fear of ever being held accountable, didn’t make it right.
Ianthe had spent much of her childhood dreading the onset of puberty and the revelation of her dynamic. Although one could never be sure until a child came of age, some signs had been there from the beginning.
Her small stature and the nature of her demeanor had established the possibility early on. Her Omega mother had already given birth to a Beta female, her sister, which increased the likelihood that a subsequent child would be of the rarest dynamic.
Their parents had always prepared her for the possibility, the waiting had hung like a specter over the entirety of her childhood. Luckily, the family had made preparations. She did not discover until she was a teenager that her mother had been stockpiling the medication needed to suppress her biological response, making her appear to be Beta on even the closest evaluation.
She’d always understood herself to be cursed.
Her parents had died shortly after she reached puberty and endured her first, and only, heat cycle. Her mother had prepared her as best she could. She had supplied clean pillows and bedding so that Ianthe could build a nest, constructing one became a compulsive need in the haze of estrous. And she had also sat vigil on the other side of the locked door, whispering reassurances, as Ianthe had scratched at the walls and begged for the release that only a rutting Alpha could provide.
An Omega in heat was practically mindless, desperate to be fucked and claimed by the most dominant Alpha in range of her scent. The thought of enduring another cycle of estrous made Ianthe feel sick to her stomach.
In her darkest moments, Ianthe became convinced that she caused her parents’ deaths. They had been disposing of the remains of her nest which was saturated in the fluid of an estrous-high Omega. Even though the bedding had been double-bagged and tightly secured, Ianthe wondered if that had been enough to hide the scent of her slick.
Her mother had been claimed by her father, which should have been enough to make her unappealing enough to the average Alpha that they could stay in control of their rut. What else could have attracted the guardian Alpha who had been patrolling the streets that day?
The report provided to the family had underlined that the Alpha who murdered her parents had possessed a clean service record prior to the attack. So what would have prompted him to mount her mother, then kill them both when her father had tried to fight him off?
It wasn’t as if she could ask him. The Alpha had been put to death after a perfunctory administrative hearing. Contributing to the death of a fertile Omega was an automatic death sentence, regardless of the circumstances.
So Ianthe had always wondered if it had been the scent of her slick that had attracted the Alpha and caused him to lose control like that. And she had become even more convinced it was true as the years passed.
And that was why she continued to swallow the alterants despite awful side effects, like stomach cramping and constant headaches. It was why she would never willingly reveal her orientation even if death were the only alternative. Being an Omega only brought pain and degradation.
She quit the Academy out of guilt to care for her brother and sister. Even though Circe was older, finding work would be impossible with her disfigurement. They had moved to the lowest levels to save money. But that had only compounded their problems. The air in the slums, heavy with pollution, had given her brother breathing problems. The weekly treatments needed to keep his lungs functioning were another expense that they could not afford even if she worked day and night at the cafeteria. And paying for the treatments made it impossible to save the money needed to move back to the middle levels where he could find relief.
Just another reason that she felt she had no choice but to take the offer from Eros House.
She had to remind herself that any injury she suffered served a purpose. Even her fear because it kept her focused on what was at stake.
This was the biggest risk of her short life.
“Are you wearing a nightgown?”
The mocking amusement in the Procurer’s voice as he surveyed her at the door made Ianthe feel equal parts self-conscious and angry. She had already reached the practical limits of her ability to cope just by arriving at Eros House. She wasn’t in the mood to be insulted.
Her nerves were frazzled after enduring the silent, hour-long ride in a darkened skycar. Two large men had sat in the driver’s and front passenger seat, neither had so much as turned their head to speak to her. They had arrived at this penthouse, an apartment big enough to fit practically her entire neighborhood, just so that an old Alpha could mock her clothing.
“Should I run back home for my matching fuzzy slippers?”
“Careful, my dear.” The slight smile disappeared from his lips, leaving a glower. “At least a few of our patrons will
want to beat that attitude right out of you.”
Chastised, Ianthe looked down at the floor to hide her own scowl. She had spent a lifetime fighting an urge to submit and now this is what they had reduced her to.
She was actually here and doing this.
Her breath became shallower and more rapid as the significance of what was about to occur finally seemed to sink into her.
The Procurer noticed the stricken look that crossed her face and slid up to her side.
“May I?”
Ianthe nodded, unable to speak. He put a supporting arm around her shoulder and escorted her to a small sofa. The tastefully decorated foyer spun around her. She had to focus all of her attention on the sparkling tile floor to keep from throwing up.
“It’s only nerves, you know.” He gently gripped the back of her neck in a gesture that was more soothing than it should have been.
A lovely Beta female dressed head-to-toe in black walked by holding a full tray of champagne flutes perfectly aloft. This woman was no cafeteria worker from the slums. Ianthe felt impossibly inadequate as her fingers caught in the simple cotton of her dress. And then she wondered why she cared at all. It would be better if none of them wanted her and she could walk out of this place with her dignity intact.
The Procurer whisked one glass off the tray and held it to her lips in a smooth movement. “Drink.”
She did. Tiny bubbles of carbonation tickled down her throat and she had to fight the urge to sneeze. He continued to tilt the stem until the flute was empty. A ball of warmth unfurled in the pit of her belly and spread outward until her head felt slightly fuzzy and too heavy for her shoulders.
Ianthe almost never drank alcohol, and the few times she imbibed had not felt like this. “What’s in that?”
“A bit of relaxation.” He rose and pulled her up with him. “Let us get you out of that monstrosity of a dress and into something more pleasing to the eye. Then you can join the others.”
Others?
Twenty minutes later, she stood in the two-story living room of the penthouse along with a dozen others, mostly young women. Picture windows from floor to ceiling looked out on the starry sky. They were high enough to be above the clouds. Under any other circumstances, the beauty of it would have overwhelmed her.
But the only emotion she felt in that moment was fear.
She fingered the skirt of the violet lingerie dress that the Procurer had chosen for her. He had not insisted on watching her change, which had been a relief and more decorous than she expected. The lacy hem moved gently around her thighs. It was shorter than anything she had ever worn in public before. A cutaway waist revealed strips of bare skin at her sides, which had gone pink with embarrassment.
Ianthe hugged her arms around herself and prayed for it all to end quickly.
“First time?”
She turned to meet the cheerful blue eyes of a blonde-haired girl around her age with a face like a cherub.
“That obvious?”
The cherub’s smile widened. “New girls always look nervous. It will be easier the next time.”
Ianthe made an involuntary noise deep in her throat. “There won’t be a next time.”
“Don’t be so sure.” The other girl’s smile faded slightly but then quickly rebounded. “I’m Casi, by the way.”
Ianthe had no choice but to return her infectious smile. “Ianthe.”
“Pretty name.” Casi picked up a wine glass from a nearby table and raised it to her lips. “At least you haven’t thrown up yet, that’s a good sign.”
It was hard for Ianthe to believe the other girl could be so casual about all this. “How many times have you…been here before?”
“Maybe a dozen.” Casi did a little twirl so the pink skirt of her nightie flared coquettishly around her slim legs. “It’s easy money. All you have to do is act a little Omega for them, moan for their big Alpha knot and move on with your life a few hundred credits richer.”
Ianthe had never been casual about sex. Not just because of the danger that her biology would overcome the alterants, but because the problems it could cause had never seemed worth it. Even coupling with a Beta seemed to be more trouble than it was worth. Being bred was out of the question and even with hormonal suppressants, there was still a risk. Omegas were incredibly fertile.
She swallowed around a large lump in her throat. “How does this all get started, exactly?”
Casi laughed, the sound like the pealing of tiny bells. “It’s already started, newbie.”
Ianthe gaze followed where Casi pointed and she saw the small camera in the corner of the room. Mounted to the ceiling, it panned back and forth in a small arc. A little red light blinked on one side, steady and hypnotizing. She stared as the camera rotated to face them, wondering who was watching on the other end and what they would want from her.
“The cameras are all over the house, except for the bedrooms of course,” Casi said with a shrug, clearly the thought of strangers viewing their every move didn’t faze her in the slightest. “The patrons watch us for a while. If someone likes the look of you, you’re taken upstairs to meet them.”
It wasn’t until Casi pointed them out that Ianthe noticed the two Beta guards standing in front of the staircase with their arms crossed over their chests.
No reason to worry about that.
Her eyes scanned the room. A small group gathered near the buffet table, milling and chatting in hushed voices, interspersed by the occasional laugh or giggle. A gorgeous Beta male with soft features and liquid eyes played the piano, his fingers whispering over the keys in mimicry of a more sexual activity.
“Is it only Betas that they bring in here?”
Casi raised her eyebrows. “Always. An unmated Omega wouldn’t even make it past the door. They’re worth way more than the measly credits we get.”
Ianthe didn’t need to be told that. An unmated Omega was worth her own weight in gold. An Alpha mated to an Omega had a high likelihood of producing the rarer dynamics, usually Alpha sons and Omega daughters.
Not to mention the other benefits of mating an Omega.
The thought of it made Ianthe feel sick. Coming here had been criminally stupid, credits or not. And leaving was no longer an option. The penthouse had its own private entrance and the only way down was via skycar.
She was trapped.
Two girls sat on a love seat near the window. Their heads were close enough together that, at first, Ianthe thought they were whispering to each other. Until one of the girls slipped her hand under the other’s skirt and their lips closed the already scant distance between them for a passionate kiss.
“Playing to their audience. Fantasy dolls, you know.”
Ianthe turned back to Casi, confusion twisting her features. “What?”
“We’re all like toys to them — dolls. And every patron has their type. Those are fantasy dolls.” Casi waved her hand in the kissing girls' direction, dismissing them. “As in, every man’s fantasy — that is if he has no imagination.”
“What about you?”
“I’m a baby doll.” Casi twisted the end of one of her blonde pigtails between her fingers. “For the Alpha that wants to be a Daddy.”
There wasn’t even a hint of repulsion in Casi’s sunny expression.
“That doesn’t feel even a little bit gross?”
“Not really,” she responded airily. “Alphas who don‘t regularly fuck are dangerous. What we’re doing is basically a public service.”
Ianthe fought the urge to say what she was thinking. Alphas, and a few of their Beta underlings, ran the city. Places like this preyed on the very people already in the weaker positions within society. But there was nothing any of them could do to change that. She had no choice but to live in this world.
Not that it made any of it right.
“What kind of doll am I?” Ianthe wasn’t sure what made her ask, even as the words had already spilled from her lips.
“There’s something differe
nt about you.” Casi’s voice turned hesitant, and she glanced around the room, looking everywhere but at Ianthe’s face. “And it might be better if you figure things out for yourself.”
Ianthe turned away from the writhing girls on the love-seat to face Casi, whose face had gone very carefully blank. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Before she could answer, a male voice spoke over Ianthe’s shoulder. “It’s time, my dear.”
Ianthe turned to see the Procurer standing behind her, flanked by the two Beta guards who were larger up close than they had appeared from the across the room. Their faces were as expressive as carved stone. They came to stand close on each side of her, gripping her firmly by the elbows. She had the choice between being escorted or dragged.
She turned to murmur to Casi over her shoulder. “Please, just tell me.”
The words floated slowly towards her as if carried on the breeze.
“You’re the doll that wants to be broken.”
Chapter Three
They left her alone in a darkened bedroom, lit only by a single lamp on the bedside table. Silence descended around her like a weight. The sound of voices and music from downstairs had receded as they walked further upstairs and then cut off completely after the door shut behind the Procurer and his Beta goons.
Ianthe cursed the nerves that made her teeth chatter and hands shake. She wanted to be like Casi, happy and casual, content with what the world offered her. But she couldn’t be like Casi, or even like the two girls grinding against each other on the couch, because she was something entirely different.
You’re the doll that wants to be broken.
Because she knew exactly what that meant and it terrified her.
Omega's Deception Page 2
