“I need you to say it out loud, luv. What happens to the omegas at that party?” King asks in a low dangerous whisper.
I glance up at him out of the corner of my eye, swallowing hard. He’s never pushed like this before, and I’ve never seen him look this serious.
“The donors…well, it’s not official or anything, but if an omega catches their attention, they will go home with the alpha and their pack, if they have one. In exchange for a generous sum gifted to the facility.”
King winces suddenly like someone shouted in his ear, and I look up at him in concern.
“Calm the fuck down, Jesus. I’ll ask,” he mutters, rubbing at his left ear.
“Who are you talking to, King?” I ask, leaning away slightly and narrowing my eyes.
King flashes me a charming smile. “First, you can call me Joker, luv. All my friends do.”
I nod, not sure what to do with that information. I eye him warily as I wait for him to go on.
“Second, if I told you who I was talking to, then I’d have to share you, and I’m not ready for that just yet,” King, Joker, says with a wink.
“If you’re hearing voices, they have medicine for that,” I say, only half joking.
He throws his head back, laughing like a mad man, the arm around my shoulders tightening until he’s got me pressed against his side. He’s warm, almost radiating heat despite the cool air around us.
“You’re adorable, little wisp. But don’t you worry your wee head about me and my voices. We’ll be just fine. Who gets chosen for the auctions, by the way?”
Joker switches topics fast enough to make my head spin, and I blink at him for a moment before clearing my throat.
“It’s usually people who have mostly or fully recovered,” I say.
Joker hums and pauses. “And why aren’t people returned to their families?” he asks.
I sigh, my heart squeezing slightly with empathy for my fellow patients. “That’s the thing, Joker. If you’re in here, you really don’t have a family. Most of the omegas have either been rejected, or never came into their designation fully, or lost their mates,” I reply, starting strong but finishing in a tiny whisper.
I jump as Joker leans over and kisses my hairline softly. “I’m sorry, luv,” he whispers.
I’m so taken aback by the tenderness in his voice that I don’t speak for a long moment. This omega met me less than a week ago, and he’s already shown more sympathy to me than anyone in this hellhole. And he doesn’t even know anything specific.
“What about you? Did your pack…” I trail off as I look at him.
The smile he gives me in return is both warm and sad in ways I’m not sure I fully understand.
“That’s a sad story for another time, luv. But I’ll tell you my story one day. Promise,” he says gently.
A little piece of my heart melts as I nod then lean my head on his shoulder, relaxing with a sigh. Omegas are naturally touchy-feely, though it’s not something actively encouraged outside of specific times. Having this physical contact with Joker soothes the last of my frayed nerves from that insane “therapy” session.
“How long have you been in here?” he asks into the comfortable silence.
“Almost six months.”
“Is that normal?”
I shake my head. “Most people either get transferred to another facility, or ‘graduate’ within two or three months. My case is different.”
“So you’ve had to endure six months of the shit they’re reflexively calling food? God, you poor thing,” he says dramatically, clutching me hard to his chest with both arms.
I laugh, something I find myself doing more and more since he arrived.
“It’s not all that bad. If they ever serve burgers, those are actually pretty decent,” I say generously.
Joker makes a gagging noise, which only makes me laugh more.