THE WHOREMONGER

A green-gloved hand swept across the large display that made up the surface

of the desk. It then turned the block of text scrolling across so that it

oriented in her direction. His second hand casually pushed the stylus towards her. 

Leda had never been told the man’s name. She had only ever heard him

called The Whoremonger.

She winked down at the tiny printed lines, trying to make sense of the

complicated legalese that might as well have been written in another

language.

“With you?” She tried for flippant to cover her mounting unease, but her

voice rumbled on the last word.

The older Alpha chuckled, the tone was intense and full-bodied. But the smile didn’t quite catch the eyes that polled her with a calculated coldness. The silence sloped for a long moment as his gaze never broke from hers.

A steady buzz of shuttles flying past the window of his high-rise office was

the only sound, but even that drew her away. Heavy curtains, far finer than

anything she had ever owned, draped the floor-to-ceiling windows,

obscuring almost all the light from the brilliant sun outside and casting the

room in darkness.

How long had she been here? Minutes, hours, more? Time had become

trivial as she sat on the edge of the metal bench that offered not even

the slightest bit of comfort. It was in stark contrast to the artifact leather

chair that the man across from her relaxed in.

“My intentions are more particular, dear girl,” the man said, finally

breaking the silence. He bent the fingers of one hand to inspect the clipped nails. “But a beautiful Beta still has considerable value.”

If there was mockery in his tone, the Alpha hid it well. Obviously, he referred to the unique and highly sought-after female Omegas. Fewer and fewer of them were born with each passing year. 

But her likely value, whatever he decided it would be, was exactly why

she was sitting in this office. She didn’t feel particularly gorgeous at the moment. Instead, she like what she was: a twenty-year-old College 

dropout, living in the hovels with her family and pulling double shifts at a

public Diner just to keep food on the table.

She moved her hand over the agreement, swiping multiple time as dozens of pages flew across the screen. It wouldn’t be possible to read it all, not unless she had numerous days and an industrial telescope.

She halted on the lab results from the multiple vials of blood and saliva

they had demanded before anyone would even speak with her. Part of her

wanted to inspect the test results in greater detail but her attention would elicit unnecessary attention. 

If they had found out something, then she wouldn’t be sitting here.

“What exactly does all of this mean?” she asked, swiping past the test

findings to the signature page at the end.

“The terms are relatively simple, really. I inferred it had all been clarified to you already.” The Whoremonger drooped in his armchair, stooping his leg to rest one foot on the opposite knee. 

“One extra time, then.” Leda clenched her hands together to halt them

from shaking. “Please.”

“Of course, my dear.” His small smile made it clear he knew she was

simply playing for more time, her stamina too wrecked for reliable decisionmaking. “I am prepared to offer you two thousand dollars, with half deposited in your account upon acceptance of our agreement. In exchange, you will spend one night at Ceres House for the amusement of our clients.”

Clients? She hadn’t expected the plural and hoped that he had misspoken. 

“What would I have to do?”

There was not even a clue of a pause.

“Whatever you’re told.”

The shock of his words felt like being drenched in cold water. She stood

and crossed behind the uneasy chair to stand by the window. Her

hands flicked at the heavy drapes until she caught a sliver of the spectacular view. This blue sky was the cleanest thing she had ever seen. You didn’t get views like this down in the slums where a cloud of pollution filled the air.

And the many high-rise structures — full of Alphas and the fortunate Betas who served them — blocked whatever view of the sky might have been available through the smog.

People had traded their lives for a peek of this sky.

“I can’t do this.”

The Whoremonger stood and came to Leda’s side. His hands touched her back, the effort to be gentle obvious, in a motion that would have been almost fatherly under other circumstances.

“It can seem daunting at first, I know, to have your limits tested and these

barriers pushed.” His hand stroked her hair, the rings on his fingers

catching in the wild curls. “We have a very select clientele with certain 

desires, Alpha’s carefully chosen from among Aquila’s most elite. I can

promise they will treasure you like the jewel you are. No harm will come to

you, at least none that is permanent.”

She did not like the emphasis he placed on that last word.

His client's would be Alphas, of course. Who else would pay so much for the license of having a Beta obligated to follow their every command? As if they didn’t control every aspect of Aquila and all the people in it, even more was expected to satisfy them.

Leda hated Alphas, their roars and needs, and the fact that they acted as

if their position in society was some natural birthright rather than just a

cruel twist of fate.

But she couldn’t afford to have an opinion. Not anymore.

She thought back to how this had all started. One of her customers at the

diner had approached her, not a regular like most, wearing a suit much

too fine for the place. He never spoke a word to her except to place his

order, leaving a black business card with a generous tip on the table after he left.

Ceres House had been written on it in holographic print, along with an

address.

Everyone had heard of Ceres House whether they actually believed it existed

or not. It was said to be a secret place for the wealthy and well-connected where

almost any desire could be fulfilled — for a price.

It wasn’t easy to believe they wanted her. She had a beautiful enough face, but not exceptionally so, and her body was a little too lean from

missed meals. The thick, dark hair that flooded around her shoulders in

messy waves and curls was probably her best feature, along with expressive eyes that were the color of shined mahogany. 

But she was also small, details delicate, with small hands and a slight

build, even absent the near-starvation. And she only seemed even more undersized next to the graying Alpha who seemed to have experienced no depreciation in strength or musculature despite his advancing age.

She was created like an Omega.

And that would be worth something to a man like this, who traded in

fantasy. The money she could make with one night would be enough to feed her family for a year.

The Whoremonger moved away to lean against the desk. His hands were

clenched in his lap with legs crossed neatly at the ankle, casual, as if he

sensed her weakening. 

“You said I could get half of the payment now?”

“Half now and half on completion of the contract. To protect all parties

involved, of course.”

Leda cleared her throat against the knot of fear that tried to steal her voice.

“When would I resume?”

His teeth glinted in the low light when he bared them in a smile like a

crocodile’s. “There is no night like tonight.”

Her heart beat hard against her chest, the sound so audible that she was sure he could hear it. She thought of all the things that those credits could buy — water, food, pills. It was ten times as much money as she would earn in a year working at the Diner. She momentarily entertained the fantasy of going back to the college, maybe even getting a job for Central Command after graduating. There was nothing elegant about life as a bureaucratic drone, but she’d make enough to live in the middle levels above the hovels where at least the air was breathable and clean water ran from the pipes when you turned the tap.

Two thousand dollars were enough to change her life.

But was it worth the risk?

“Can I have that stylus?”

The Whoremonger held out the sleek writing tool with manicured fingers that seemed starkly clean against her much grubbier hands. The tips of their

fingers brushed for the smallest second and she looked up into his face. 

His smile was preying. “You won’t be sorry.”

She already was sorry, but the attraction was impossible to ignore. There was no other legal way for her to earn an amount like this and credits were the only ticket out of the hovels.

Leda held the stylus for a moment, trying to force the tremble from her

hand. Blood rushed through her ears, loud enough that she couldn’t hear the

Whoremonger’s words as he continued to speak to her, although the cruel twist of his lips was almost enough to distract her.

Her name came out shaky and jagged as she slid the stylus across the glass

surface. 

Signing herself away.

The Whoremonger swiped across the screen, just as she made the last little

flourish, and the contract vanished, leaving the screen blank. 

An expression crossed his face that was in mockery of a smile, equal parts

covetous and threatening.

“Welcome to Ceres House, my dear.”

“Leda!”

The tone of Cythia’s yell tore her attention from the grimy window. She

had been watching the encroaching darkness of sunset creep across the

garbage-filled street outside their apartment.

She could still hear the Whoremonger’s voice drifting over her, even though it

had been hours since she left his office. 

“Hush,” Leda whispered, pointing to the small pallet where her younger

brother, Argus, slept. The narcoleptics they had given him were not enough

to eradicate the raspy quality of his breathing, but they were the only thing

that relieved the pain enough for him to rest. It would be impossible to get him back to sleep if he woke without providing another pill that they

couldn’t afford.

Cythia glared down at her, eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me to hush. Are you

ready?”

Leda shrugged, ignoring the obvious disapproval that rolled off her sister

in waves. “If that’s even possible.”

Cythia sneered. “I still can’t believe you’re doing this.”

Clasping her cheek against the cold glass of the window, Leda sighed. “I

didn’t realize that I had a choice.”

“This is dangerous.” Cythia glowered out into the night. “I shouldn’t have let

you talk me into it.”

Leda combated the urge to roll her eyes. Cythia had been a willing accomplice from the beginning. She had been the one to present herself at the medical testing station, using Leda’s identification card, to have the lab work done.

It was her test results appended to the contract that had just been signed.

“Maybe we should try to get the payments in some other way. Maybe there’s something that I can do.”

Leda bit her tongue on a sharp retort. There was nothing she could say that would be fair. She continued to stare out the window but shifted her gaze to take in her sister’s reflection, protesting off the sense of despair that always existed in the background of her thoughts.

They looked very much alike — not identical, but similar enough to be mistaken for one another as children. But Cythia was damaged. An accident

over the cook stove during childhood had robbed her of what would likely

have been considerable beauty and covered the upper part of her body in

ravaging scars, including her neck and the right side of her face. It was

possible to hide the worst of the damage with the flowing scarves she kept perpetually wrapped around her head, like a Sh’islim convert who covered for modesty, but she wasn’t fit for a duty job. No shop owner wanted her to be the face of their business. Nerve damage to her hands from the fire made manual labor impossible, and that was the only other kind of work available in the hovels. So it was left to Leda to support them.Only the three of them were left now, a family half-formed. Alphas were responsible for every bit of the devastation. She had been born in the middle levels, her father a Beta sergeant in the logistics corps. Her mother had been Omega, and beautiful. A ranking Alpha had taken a liking to her mother and when her father had resisted, the Alpha had slay both of them. 

The judicial body had ruled her mother’s death an accident, so they’d only earned death benefits for her father. That money was spent within a year and the only place to live that they could afford had been in the hovels. 

Cythia finally broke the brooding silence. “You look nice.”

Leda murmured her thanks, even as the hollow impression grew in her chest. She was wearing a knee-length dress with thin straps, made of a soft cotton. Natural fibers were a rare commodity in the hovels as were any clothing items that were not government-issued uniforms. The robe was left over from the days when they could still afford minor luxuries. It had belonged to her mother.

“Are you sure they’re requiring you to wear something this simple?”

Comprehending that her sister criticized more out of concern than anything else, Leda tamped down on a flash of annoyance. “They didn’t say, but it’s this or my work suit.”

“If you say so.”

For about the hundredth time, the idea of just taking the money and

running crossed her mind. The Whoremonger had been a man of his word. Two thousand dollars had registered in her account before she’d even reached the lower levels from his office. It was enough money to start a new life somewhere else if she went on her own. There had to be a place she could hide where even The Whoremonger’s cold gaze couldn’t reach. And if not, she could always try disappearing into the Forbidden Zone. Nobody ever came back from there, but maybe she was strong enough to withstand the condition.

Of course, that would make her a liar and a cheat. And she wasn’t interested

in being either of those things.  And her family wanted her here, not torn to pieces in the Forbidden Zone.

The clock above their ancient stove glowed the time in blood red. It was

practically the only bit of light in the gathering darkness of their apartment.

Silence weighed down on her, heavy like a cloak. Her family surrounded

her, and yet she was completely alone.

“Here.”

Leda stunned and stared up at her sister, who had been watching her

silently. She took the little packet and unrolled it with trembling fingers.

Four mismatched tablets of different colors and sizes rolled onto her palm.

“You’ll need an additional dose,” Cythia mumbled, voice deceptively casual.

“The last thing you want is to slip your scent around a bunch of Alphas.”

“Will this be enough?”

“Fuck an Alpha and I guess you’ll see,” Cythia snapped, the anger betraying

her anxiety. “This is your stupid plan, not mine. I pray you don’t fall into

estrous the moment that you’re mounted, but it’s not like I can look up the proper dose for black market alterants on the CommNet. Really, Leda.”

Dropping her head so her sister wouldn’t see her scowl, Leda gulped the pills, not bothering with the lukewarm glass of water sitting next to her on the windowsill. “Thanks for the assistance, sis.”

“That’s a week’s wages you just swallowed down. They had better work." 

Scent suppressants, hormone inhibitors, whatever cocktail of chemical alterants that they could get their hands on — Leda took her pills dutifully every day. The payment of the black market meds was part of what kept them in the slums, and Leda sometimes went without meals to supplement the costs.

It was a punishable offense for citizens of Aquila to conceal their

biological alignment. Offenders would be hauled off to Central Command

for sentencing to incredible fates. If they caught her, all of them could

end up serving a life term in the works camps. The bright lights of an approaching skycar lit up the window. Trembling, Leda adjusted the short hem of her dress and stood.

“Time to go.”

Her sister’s muttered words felt final somehow as if she were leaving for a

lifetime rather than just for the night. She tried to rationalize away the fear.

There wasn’t a fate worse than death awaiting her, no public flagellation or

firing squad. She only had to endure one night with a stranger in exchange

for Two thousand dollars.

But that didn’t stop the sense that something horrible awaited her.