1. Candy

Iscanned the grey room, picking out the sallow faces of alphas with nothing else to do except watch a starved omega strip in one of the dirtiest parts of London.

They were the ones I wanted to tempt.

Every night I was out here, trying to earn enough to stay another night in the bed I rented from Stevie. He used the bar to take advantage of us, packing all thirteen of his girls into a tiny attic space. He took most of our earnings for it, but at least it was somewhere warm to sleep. And I'd rather have that than stand on a street corner in November.

This was my tenth night in a row on stage, shaking my ass as my G-string rode up my crack, my feet absolutely killing me. The cheap mascara they gave us itched like hell, but the stage light shining straight into my face was so blinding that it didn't matter, really. I had one more set and then I'd be on my back for the rest of the night, either fucking or sleeping.

Whatever used to be attractive about Stevie's had faded over decades of cigarette smoke, spilt drinks, and the smell of piss that escaped from the bathroom. No matter how much bleach we used, it always stank. There were five round tables below the stage, and a row of stools along the bar, all wood, all seen better days. They'd been worn down by the heavy arses of anyone who found themselves parked up with a shitty beer and an empty look as we stripped and occasionally sang.

People came here to get pissed and look at tits and, if we were lucky, one of them would pay for a fuck.

I pranced around on stage singing ‘Feeling Good' with a single small speaker behind me and no microphone, perfuming with every step.

That was my thing. None of the other girls could do it, but it didn't make a damn difference when half the guys out there were so drunk they probably couldn't scent me.

Though there was this one guy tucked away in the back. A glance at him and it was obvious he didn't belong in a place like this.

A sharp suit, a relaxed pose, and he didn't have a drink. He just quietly watched.

He might have seemed unassuming in the dim shadows of the pub, but I could feel his powerful alpha energy from all the way on the stage. The more sober customers were shooting him looks, picking up on it, too. Alphas like him didn't come to places like this, not to drink, anyway.

I was on stage for half an hour. Stevie liked the young ones out at the start of the night, before the customers got too drunk to tell that they were leering at a forty-year-old omega who was so skinny her tits looked like fried eggs.

It was Friday night, payday, usually a good one for me. If I caught a customer's eye, he'd pay Stevie to take me into one of the back rooms, and I could make an extra fifty quid.

It meant I wouldn't have to work the weekend, and I could actually afford some decent food. It had been instant noodles all week.

I finally finished my set, and the posh guy hadn't moved at all.

I used to wish everyone a good night, but I quickly learned that no one gave a fuck. The only way they paid me more attention was if I showed off more of my goods.

Instead, I headed straight for the stairs behind the stage. One bouncer checked out my ass as I left, and I flipped him a finger. He wasn't as bad as some of the others, all he did was look. We had to look out for the ones who thought they could get a free ride just because they worked here.

I made it halfway down the steps before one of the girls pushed off the wall.

"What's it like out there?" Clarity asked hopefully, Her jaw grit as she prepared herself for the show.

Her red sparkling leotard would be on the stage floor in the next ten minutes. She asked the same question every night, and every night I gave her the same reply. Except tonight. "Man in a suit, back left. Might be some good cash if you can score him."

It was rough forcing ourselves out there every night, but we had to be grateful. And the door was always open to come and go. Stevie didn't give a shit about who was dancing, just as long as someone was on stage.

We threw each other a nod before I weaved through the dark corridor to reach the dressing room.

It was just an old storage closet that Stevie had fitted out with mirrors and a clothes rack, but it was ours. With one dull bulb hanging from the ceiling and heavy with the smell of mould and perfume, it barely fit all thirteen of us, but we made it work.

A bunch of the other girls were already in there, and they lit up with smiles when they saw me. Stevie's place might be a shithole, but we looked out for each other.

"What's the scope?" Sandy asked, handing me a can of cheap beer. It was all we could afford.

"New guy," I said as I cracked it open. "I dunno if he'll be around for long, though, but it looks like he'll be worth it. Let's see if Clarity can bag him first."

The girls started chattering, some of them primping in the mirror, others going back to their make-up. We were all types, most of us off the streets, most of us willing to put up with anything as long as we had somewhere safe to stay.

"He could be a billionaire!" Velma said.

"Or mafia!" Sandy laughed, as Velma shot her a bright grin.

"Maybe he's a rich prince from Dubai!" Frankie grinned, setting off another round of laughter.

We played this game whenever someone new came in. It helped keep us going and made the idea of spreading our legs for them more bearable.

There was still the little girl inside me that thought maybe I could find a real pack. We always joked about it, but deep down, hidden where even I couldn't see it most days, I had hope that maybe there was a mate out there for me. Maybe there was someone I could call my own, who would love me unconditionally, and not just because I had pussy for sale.

Though shit like that didn't fly when the only way I could afford food was by taking a knot. And if I could earn enough to eat properly, I didn't need an alpha. There were times I'd do anything for the penne pollo they served at the Italian on the main street.

"Do you think it'll be enough for…?" Velma trailed off as she flicked the make-up table with her finger, her nail tapping the plastic top, and I nodded back straight away.

"Definitely," I said. "I can't be sure, but if one of us gets him, it might be enough, y'know?"

"If Stevie doesn't fuck him over first." Sandie snorted, shaking her head.

We never spoke about it out loud, just in case one of Stevie's guys was listening, but we were saving up for something special. It was one of the reasons we all stayed.

Every year there was a Selection ceremony, a fancy ball where omegas and alphas mingled, giving them the opportunity to meet potential mates and form packs. There were at least three parties, all different levels of society, and if we saved up enough, we'd just be able to afford the lowest level.

It was every omega's dream to attend the ceremony and meet the perfect pack. The rumour was that no one ever left a ceremony unmated. They taught us all about it in high school, and we even had dance lessons to prepare. But the entry fee was five hundred quid for the lowest level, and that didn't include the dresses and everything else. There was another rumour that the highest level had a ten-thousand-pound entry fee.

We all put our extra tips in a jar hidden under the make-up table. When the applications were available, we'd draw straws to see who would go.

It kept us together, all working towards something that could give one of us a better life.

The girls erupted into excited chattering again, and I rubbed the soles of my feet, aching from the stupidly high heels Stevie made us wear.

I hadn't had my first heat, which was a requirement for the ceremony, though apparently, omegas lied about it all the time. Most omegas presented around eighteen, and their first heat came two years after. I presented late, almost at nineteen, so mine might not be for another year. That was when I'd finally become a real omega. Not just perfuming and slicking and taking knots left, right, and centre, but I"d be able to have children, too. But I'd also risk getting pregnant outside of a heat, and contraceptives would cut into my nightly pay.

I'd heard everything was way more frenzied during a heat. The other girls said they get so horny they literally can't think of anything else except cocks, knots, and cum. Heats were always a huge payout, too. Three nonstop days of fucking was a huge difference to a desperate hour after a show.

Five minutes later, I was pressing my ass against the make-up counter, draining the last of my beer and gossiping noisily with the girls when the door burst open.

Johnny, one of Stevie's runners practically fell into the room, his face shining. Some of the topless girls screamed playfully and spun around, covering themselves. He was only fourteen, but he knew how to time it.

His gaze landed straight on me, his broken front teeth showing through his wide grin.

"Already?" I asked, hitching a brow. I usually got at least ten minutes to rest my feet whenever a customer bought me for the night.

"Yeah!" He straightened as he took another peek at the girls. "It's the posh one, too."

"Oh my god!" Sandy squealed, jumping up from her chair. "It's happening!"

"We've got to get you ready!" Velma cried out.I laughed as she grabbed me, clearing a space in front of the mirror as they plonked me down.

"Red? Or white?" Frankie called from the end of the room, holding up two of our cleanest dresses we kept for the ‘rich' customers.

"White, of course!" Velma shouted back and I beamed as Sandy leaned down to clean off the shitty make-up we wore on stage.

We needed the good stuff if I was going to score big tonight.

I smiled at myself in the mirror, excitement fluttering around the room.

Hopefully, he wouldn't be too put off by the bags under my eyes, or my off-white skin, cracked lips, and thin hair. Though we all looked like shit, anyway. It was why the blinding stage light was so helpful. None of us were healthy, but I was still hot as fuck. And a quick round of make-up would help bring that to life. Plus, I had my big tits and wide ass, which was all the paying customers cared about, anyway.

Either way, I was good enough to work my hips, and that's what mattered.

It was my time to shine.

Johnny had taken me to the best room in the building. If I was right about this guy, he deserved everything we could offer him. Though, the best for Stevie's was clean sheets and an actual lampshade. At least there was enough space to walk around the bed, with a rug over the rough wooden floor, proper pillows and a bunch of washed toys thrown into a box in the corner.

I was plumping my blonde bob in the large mirror above a waist-high cabinet when I heard footsteps climb the stairs to the room.

Two sets, and a strange tapping noise I couldn't figure out as I listened closer.

Stevie was chattering away, which I'd never heard him do.

Even if Johnny hadn't told me it was the rich alpha, I would have known from the powerful energy that seeped through the thin walls. It was the same kind that curled around me when I was on stage.

"This way, please," Stevie said as they reached the landing. The door swung open, and Stevie stepped back to let him inside.

The rich alpha stood in the doorway, filling the space. Even though he was at least a foot smaller than Stevie, he still dwarfed him with his raw energy. There was nothing about Stevie that could measure up to him; the alpha was above him in every single way. And not only because Stevie was hunched over, his sweaty vest and blue jeans so skinny it was clear he used to be a junkie, especially when he was fidgeting. We called him a rat for a reason.

My breath caught in the back of my throat as I met the eyes of the alpha.

Pure dominance radiated from him, sweeping over me, catching me. My heart froze, veins wired, every sense in my body telling me to fucking run. My hands tightened into balls as his lips curved into a smile, hair rising on my arms at the force of him.

He must have been at least fifty, dressed head-to-toe in black. A fancy suit, a thick wool jacket, black tie, black shoes, black gloves, and a black bowler hat. His cane passed hands, the silver point tapping on the floor, the high sound echoing around the room as Stevie flinched, backing away from him onto the landing while I raised a brow.

All alphas and omegas had auras. It was part of our nature, like a ball of energy that surrounded us. A combination of good genes and training determined how powerful someone was. Alphas used the energy of their aura to suppress or dominate omegas and other alphas, depending on their strength. Omegas could only use theirs to calm alphas, and that was after a bite. Like a biological insurance policy for when alphas went off the rails.

The alpha's aura grew stronger as he watched me, his energy slowly thickening around the room, like he was testing us to see how much we could take. Stevie lifted a shaking hand to his throat, choking at the force of him, but I didn't show him anything. I hated when alphas flexed like that.

Maybe my knees shook, my lungs burning, too. He'd fixed his attention on me, expecting me to react, and I wasn't falling for it.

That's when my natural talent came into play. Because I was good, better than I let on. The girls knew I could perfume on command, but they didn't know I used my aura to make the alphas who bought me snap, and they couldn't control me like they could with the other girls.

Which made the fact I knew I couldn't escape this man if he chose to hunt me down even more electric.

Ideally, alphas and omegas blended their energy within a pack bond to create a perfect, balanced existence. Though I'd never met an alpha who gave a shit about that.

Omegas with packs, normal omegas, didn't have to deal with alphas trying to control or manipulate them.

The rich alpha's presence shook around him like a mirage, smothering everything else. The best thing was, I could feel he was only showing us a fraction of his real strength. And the idea he might release himself on me made my mouth water. Because most of the alphas who came to fuck me, the ones I was actually interested in, only had their brute strength going for them.

I'd never seen such a small alpha, either. I just made five feet, and I swear he only had an inch or two on me. The hat threw me off.

"That will be all, thank you," the alpha said, his voice washing over me like a warm breeze.

Stevie sneered at me over the alpha's shoulder. "You better make sure you—"

"I said leave."

A rush of power suddenly swept the room, strangling us both. Stevie yelled out in shock, the colour vanishing from his skin as I fell backwards. A cry ripped from me as fear plunged deep into my stomach. I thumped against the edge of the cabinet, my other hand firm on my stomach to stop the bile rising in my throat.

What the hell was that?

The alpha twisted his head, his smile gone as he flicked Stevie a look. Ramrod straight, Stevie lurched forward, panic beating from him, his footsteps growing lighter as he shot down the stairs.

Eyes wide, I stared at the alpha. He was too close to the door for me to run, and I wasn't going to risk fighting him with an aura like that. If I had a knife, maybe I could try it, but the only thing in the room I could use as a weapon was the lamp, and it was too far away for me to get there in time.

I just had to pretend. Keep pretending everything was okay and maybe I could get out of this alive.

Biting my lip, I straightened and pressed my ass and tits out, appearing like I wanted him as I sniffed the air, trying to get a better read on him. But there was nothing there.

Everyone had a scent. It didn't matter whether they were alphas, betas, or omegas, it was part of our biology. Betas couldn't usually smell alphas and omegas, though there were lots of stories around about ones who could scent their mates.

Scent blockers weren't rare, but alphas didn't really use them. And they proved years ago that long-term use caused cancer. Though, like cigarettes, it didn't stop people from using them.

Though I didn't catch the slight powdery tang that scent blockers gave off. There was nothing, which made me even more interested in him, despite the urge to run.

"Well, my dear," the alpha said, lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes as he took a step into the room. "You seem to have found yourself in quite a predicament, haven't you?"

His tone might have been kind, but there was no chance I was letting my guard down.

Suddenly, instead of suffocating me, his aura gently eased into calming waves, peace fluttering through me, trying to force me to relax. It was part of their stupid alpha deal, so an omega didn't go mental during their heat. Most of the alphas on this side of town just used it to get a free lay. It was way easier to assault an omega when they were forced to be calm.

I'd had paying alphas do it before, to make the sex easier, but most didn't bother. They just bent me over and took what they wanted.

I sighed in relief, like I was glad he had eased up, as a normal omega would. I watched closely to see how he would react, but his smile didn't change. I sat my ass against the edge of the cabinet, my hands riding the edge, desperately clinging on. I refused to let him dominate me. Instead, I gave him a sultry smile, popping a hip, praying he didn't see the whites of my knuckles as I pushed out my chest.

"Where do you like to start?" I purred, the sound rumbling from my chest. "You can take me here if you want? I like to fuck standing up."

I simpered as I gathered myself, acting like the pretty omega I was. My stomach tensed, my chest tightening as I released a waft of perfume. It flowed from me, filling the small room with the heavy scent of bubblegum, rich and sweet, my own personal flavour.

Some of the girls could make their scents stronger, but nothing like this. If I could wind him up, then I'd just have to put up with him for a few hours. Take his knot, ride him out, hope he didn't kill me, and then I'd be done. It wasn't different from any other night, really.

But he didn't even sniff the air. He just kept smiling at me placidly, like he was used to seeing an omega perfuming on command. Almost all omegas had to get worked up to perfume, unless they were still young and had just presented.

He cleared his throat, tilting his head, never taking his attention off me. "Danielle, is it?" he asked, lifting a brow.

I jumped in surprise, my lips parting as one solid heartbeat of fear stole my breath.

He shouldn't know that. No one should know that. I'd done everything possible to hide my identity since I ran away from my foster family as soon as I presented at eighteen. They were happy to sell me off for eight hundred pounds and an eightball, and force me to bond to a pack twice my age.

On the day I was supposed to go to them, my foster dad pushed me down in the kitchen and tried to fuck me one last time. I stabbed him with a steak knife sticking out of the dishwasher, and I'd been hopping from city to city for two years since then to make sure the police couldn't find me.

"Who's Danielle?" I asked, cocking my head. I thought I'd hidden my fear, but there was a tremor in my voice.

"Please don't bother. Our conversation will be much smoother if we both refrain from lying."

I twisted my lips. "How did you know then?"

"Let's call it an occupational hazard. Tell me, Danielle—"

"Candy," I cut him off. I stopped being Danielle the second I got away from my foster home.

He dipped his head, exhaling softly. "Candy, then." His gaze dropped to my feet, doing a full sweep of my body. The white dress cut just over my knees and split up the thigh for easy access. No underwear, no jewellery, nothing to get in his way. "How much are you paid for jobs such as this?"

I hitched my chin, giving him a teasing smile as my hair swept around my shoulders. Even if his aura was terrifying, I'd fucked guys with guns in their hands. If I died, I died, but usually a good performance got me a payout, especially with the crazy ones.

Curving my back, I tilted my head at just the right angle to show my neck and make him think of a bite. "Enough to make it worth it," I said with a quick flutter of my eyelashes.

I sent another waft of perfume his way, but I already knew it wouldn't make a difference. It was like he couldn't even smell me.

I'd spent years on the run from alphas who couldn't control themselves around me. So, I had to be the one to learn control. Alphas in rut could be fucking terrifying, and that's why I always carried a knife in my purse, kept my nails sharp and used my aura to calm them. Two years of fighting and running, and I had the scars to prove it.

But he didn't even blink.

"Your friend Stevie says you earn at least a thousand every night," he said.

I snorted, a hand shooting up to my lips, swallowing the next giggle.

I was grinning when I lowered it. "Sir, if I was getting a thousand pounds a night, do you really think I would be here?"

"Yes, I suspected as much." He nodded. "His type are all the same." He tutted with a small shake of his head before he moved to stand in front of me. I was still pressed up against the cabinet, but I didn't feel like he was closing me in.

"I do believe it's time," he said.

Resignation settled in me. Whenever someone bought me, it was the same. Even though I knew what was coming, I always hoped for something different.

Once they were inside me, it was okay, but the buildup could take ages depending on what they wanted.

Instead, he held out a gloved hand. I looked down at it in surprise before meeting his eyes again, and he just stood there patiently. "Michael Farringdon, at your service."

"Hm, I see." Then it was my turn to give him a once over. With all the fancy clothes he was wearing, it might make sense. Though there was absolutely zero chance someone like Michael Farringdon would ever step foot in a place like this.

"Well," I curtsied as I took his hand, "good evening, Mr Farringdon. It is such a pleasure to meet you," I said in my poshest English accent.

The Farringdon Group was one of the largest corporations in the world. I didn't know anything about the CEO specifically, just that Mr Farringdon was so rich he made billionaires look poor. Almost every product I bought was made by one of their companies. And, if the alpha wanted to play the billionaire, then I was happy to go along with it, especially if it meant a bigger payout at the end.

"I believe I said no lies." He released me, his hand disappearing into his coat pocket, withdrawing a card.

I took it daintily, as if I was a proper lady. "Of course not." I bowed my head. "I would never do such a thing."

Usually, the guys who wanted to role-play were looking for a secretary or a naughty nurse. This was way more fun.

I took a quick glance at the card. It looked real enough, though I was pretty sure anyone could get a stack of these made for twenty quid down at the print shop

"So, who'd you like me to be?" I asked, dropping the accent. "I could be a popstar? Or the prime minister's wife? Or do you want to go with a classic ‘secretary and boss' scenario?"

"Neither, thank you. I"ve come to you for another reason. This is business."

"Oh? Business?" My lips curved into a sultry smile. "Is that what you'd like to call it?"

He replied with a low chuckle. "I have an offer for you, my dear," he said. "I say offer, but I have already agreed to the terms with the dashing young Stevie, who has so kindly agreed to sell you to me."

"Excuse me?" I smirked, dipping my chin, my brows raised. "Sell me?" As if Stevie had any control over me outside of who got to fuck me and where. And, even then, I had a choice.

"Indeed." He nodded. "You have a particular skill with your perfume that I'm very interested in."

Maybe I'd been too loose with it after all.

"And I've offered Stevie what I would consider a fair amount for your sale."

I bit my lip, holding back another giggle. I guessed it was all part of the role-play, but Stevie was such a piece of shit, he might actually do it.

"Stevie doesn't own me," I said with a click of my tongue.

At least at Stevie's, I knew what I was getting into. I mean, yeah, a lot of the girls were drugged up, and I could see myself going that way in the end, but I had a place to sleep and pay.

"My thought exactly," he said, shifting his cane to his right hand before leaning on it. He didn't seem like he needed it; I didn't catch a limp, but who knew what rich people were really like? With his leather gloves and bowler hat, I should expect anything. Like an offer to buy me.

"I own some incredibly exclusive establishments in and around London, and I would very much like for you to come and work for me. It would mostly consist of the same duties you are performing here, only your wages would be much higher and your accommodation would be far more welcoming than… hmm… this." His smile grew strained as his eyes swept the room, obviously judging. "You would be stripping, of course, though I would expect you to be in a far healthier condition than you are now."

So it was ‘billionaire rescues poor omega', though I guess he wanted to keep me as a whore in his fantasy, so I'd still do whatever he wanted.

"Of course, Sir Farringdon. There's no way I would ever pass up such an opportunity."

My hand crept from my stomach down to my thigh, finding the hem of my dress and sliding it up. Maybe I could show him my pussy and get this over with.

He frowned at me. I knew what he saw. It was the same thing I saw every time I looked in the mirror.

"We would also be paying you twenty-five percent of any profits you make during your shows, far more than you've been making at this place."

He was taking this role-play way more seriously than I'd ever seen, but maybe that was just because he was rich. Or, at least, pretending to be.

"I mean thousands, my dear, not just three hundred for one night." Like I'd ever earned that. "We'll provide accommodation, and we have kitchens to meet any of your demands. Other matters can be discussed at a later date. I don't expect rent or any form of payment, simply that you service our clients when asked and commit to at least ten years working for me."

I pouted, pressing a finger to my lips. "Ten years is such a long time! You want to own me for that long?" I laughed coyly, though he didn"ttake the bait.

I was tempted to use my aura but, from what he showed me of his power, it probably wouldn't affect him, and I didn't want to piss him off.

"Hmm." He frowned, and it felt like he was assessing me. Maybe I wasn't as good an actor as I thought I was.

"Well, something like that, yes. It will be a far better situation than you are living in now. We have proper carpets, at least." His lips curved in amusement. "And I can take care of your little problem with the police."

I flinched back suddenly, eyes wide as my heart plunged into my stomach.

This didn't feel like role-play anymore.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I shrugged, pressing my fingers into the cabinet to stop the trembling, like he hadn't just whipped out my biggest fear. I hadn't told a single soul about my foster dad since I ran. I changed my style every new place I went. I hadn't left any paper trails; I didn't even have a phone. There was no way a complete stranger could have discovered where I was.

"Oh, but I believe you do." His voice curled around me like a snake waiting for a mouse to bolt.

I paused, considering the situation. I could carry on the act, pretend it was part of the play, but he'd been too serious throughout the whole thing, even with all those smiles and chuckles.

"Did my foster father send you?" I finally asked.

"Oh no, my dear. How could a dead man do such a thing?"

My mouth dropped open, blinking heavily, relief thudding through me as I looked at Michael in a new light.

I didn't even know he was dead…

Yeah, it meant I was a murderer, but it also meant he could never come after me again.

I watched Michael carefully as he stood there, patient as he clasped his cane.

"My dear, I'm also offering you the chance to erase that unfortunate incident, and all the baggage that came with it. Come and work for me, and I promise you, you won't regret it."

He could be lying. He could be talking total piss and planning to drag me off to be some toy for a pack of cruel alphas. It was why I ran away in the first place.

The walls here were thin, and Stevie had runners like Johnny listening at every door or through drill holes beside the mirrors in each room.

Michael gave me another one of those smiles. "You simply need to say the word and we can leave together."

If I was going with him, it had to be now. Stevie wouldn't let me go if he thought he could get more money out of this alpha, though I doubted he could stop him.

If this rich guy was really serious, then maybe I could earn enough money to find a place to live, to make myself a real nest, and find a proper pack. Maybe I could give myself a chance to actually hope there was something out there for me.

I had no address, no family, nothing to tie me down. One of the other girls could go to the Selection ceremony—maybe I could even send them money for it if I made enough.

It was either stay and sell my first heat to whatever scumbag pack wanted me, or risk it and leave with a stranger. If he was a total freak, I could always escape again.

I folded my arms, trying to weigh up my options, even though I knew straight away what I was going to do.

"Give me five minutes," I said. If I really wanted out of this shithole, I had to take any chance I got.

He nodded again. "Very good. My car is waiting outside. In your own time, Danielle, please."

Michael straightened his back, taking a step to the right, giving me a clear run to the door.

"Candy," I said as I breezed past him. I'd chosen my own name when I ran from the foster home, and I was sticking with it. "My name is Candy."