Mates gave true collars.
For Fenrir and the rest, this scrap of silk would have to suffice.
There were rut auctions as well, but tonight was all about heats. An omega's first heat, nonetheless. A bit archaic, but there was still appeal in that, in things like virginity and ownership, even if it was just on a piece of paper. The crowd here tonight would pay a premium for the chance to spend an omega’s first heat with them, especially one trained by the Wardrobe.
The company used to be the city’s best worst-kept secret. A high-end escort service that catered to the elite of society. Their Royal clientele ensured they were never in trouble with the law, and a few years ago, when it was revealed Synastry was at risk of dwindling birthrates, the Wardrobe was even given the opportunity to step into the light.
The mistress and CEO, Michelle, ran things with a business-savvy mind, and had increased sales by forty percent with her additions to their offerings, like auctions and Play Dates.
Fen had never had to suffer through either himself before, but that was because she kept him on a tighter leash than most. Unlike the others on stage, he hadn’t been trained in lovemaking or flirtation. No one had ever expected him to be allowed to seduce or make money for the company.
He’d been a pet to the mistress.
An amusement.
A weapon.
Now, he was finally getting the chance to prove his loyalty. Was it a loyalty that’d been manipulated and manufactured? Sure. But such was his reality, and Fenrir had long since given up on fantasizing about impossibilities like escape.
Michelle had seen to it that even with his abilities, Fenrir was forever trapped to her side. Shackled to her throne made of bone, blood, and the stolen innocence of hundreds who’d had the misfortune of crossing paths with the Wardrobe.
Technically, Fenrir was a part of this auction of his own volition, but not all the omegas were. Product didn’t typically get a choice in what events they partook in, or how often they were offered up to the highest bidder.
Most had been cornered long ago, waking one morning to discover their lives forever altered by some shitty family memberor an ex-lover. A few, he’d grown up with at the facility. He knew their names, had watched their old hopes and dreams fade from their eyes as time passed them by. As things were, Fenrir could do nothing for them, but perhaps if he was successful in this—
No. Not if. When.
He was pretty enough despite his stature, with deep brown hair and vibrant orange eyes. His eye color was unique enough that it might garner him some favor, and he set them about the room, lingering on the White Frost members who seemed to show even a modicum of interest.
That was the one stipulation. He needed to be bought by a member of the mafia. Michelle’s promise to him only held true if he was successful in that, and like the cocky fool he was, he’d taken the gamble and agreed to her terms.
But there were many other alphas in this room. More than he’d anticipated.
What would happen if one of them bid on him instead? If one of them won?
There’d be no escaping their bed.
And no escaping the shelf.
Product remained on the shelf, pack worked the floor. That was how the Wardrobe was run. Fenrir was never going to be free of the place entirely, but he’d worked so hard, had kissed Michelle’s ass more times than he could count, just to be here. What if he’d fought and clawed his way to this stage to lose in the end?
What if it’d all been for nothing?
Would Michelle punish him? Refuse to offer her soothing pheromones the next time he was at risk of influx? She’d cut it close a few times this past year, always when she wanted to underhandedly teach him a lesson.
Remind him who held his leash.
There was nothing more frightening than the thought of losing oneself. Of slipping away, having their memories wiped clean and control over their words and actions.
What if he failed and she was displeased enough to send him back to the compound? If he lost control there, he’d end up murdering innocent people. Or worse.
What if he—
“Wolf,” Nadia, a female omega he’d known for a couple of years, hissed under her breath, catching his attention. “Your pheromones.”
Had he been releasing them after all? Must have been the sudden burst of anxiety.
Giving a single curt nod in thanks, he refocused as the auctioneer stepped up to the podium set at the right side of the stage. The older alpha male began his introductions, running through the night's events and praising the quality of the omegas they had available.