The Sanctuary, 3
The rules are simple:
No permanent marks.
No claiming.
No exceptions.
But rules mean nothing when desire tastes like possession and obsession feels like destiny. Zion knows twelve hours will never be enough. Evangeline knows surviving him may cost more than freedom ever could.
In a world where power is currency and obedience is survival, the price of an omega might just be blood, betrayal, and the surrender of everything they thought they were.
Welcome to The Sanctuary. Where once you step inside, there’s no walking away unscarred.
Be Warned: dubious consent, knotting, public exhibition
Excerpt:
The glass cage rises from beneath the stage, bathed in unforgiving white light. And just like that, I’m fucked.
There’s a girl inside. A tiny thing, strapped to the St. Andrew’s cross like an offering to the gods. Wrists bound wide, ankles strapped apart, her body displayed in a way meant to humiliate and demean. Pale skin that looks like it would bruise under my fingertips. Dark eyes, too large for her delicate face, staring out at nothing, refusing to meet the predators circling her with their hungry gazes. Her thighs glisten faintly under the lights, betraying what her body already knows, even if her mind refuses it.
And her scent? Fuck. It hits me like a fist to the gut. Sweet, thick, and cloying, pure omega sweetness. My lungs seize, my cock hardens so fast it’s painful, and every rational thought evaporates. The primitive Alpha inside me roars awake, demanding I take.
Bite.
Knot.
Mark.
Claim.
I clench the armrest of my chair until the wood cracks under my palm. I try to drag air into my lungs, force reason through the red haze clouding my vision. I promised myself I’d never do this. Never touch an omega. They make men weak. They strip Alphas of control until all that’s left is an animal rutting in the dark. But when she shifts against the wooden cross and lowers her lashes, shame painting her cheeks pink … a string of violent fantasies slam into me.
This tiny omega on her knees, gagging on my thick cock until her tears pour from those wide eyes and streak down her cheeks. Bent over the cross, my hand in her hair, forcing her open while she cries my name. Her cunt stretched around my knot, locked to me, filled until she’s ruined for anyone else. My palm colliding with her soft ass until it blooms red. Her wrists bound tighter, ankles lashed, helpless and mine to destroy.
My cock throbs, leaking against my zipper, and I want to snarl. No. Not her. Not a fucking omega.
The announcer drones on, his voice lost beneath the roaring pulse in my ears. Numbers are shouted, money thrown like scraps in a pit.
“One million.”
“Two million.”
“Two point five!”
Pathetic. She’s worth more than they’ll ever have.
The taste of copper coats my tongue, I’ve bitten down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. My muscles shake with restraint. I don’t want her, I don’t want this, I continue to lie to myself. I should walk out, drown this need in violence or liquor.
Instead, I hear my own voice cut through the din like a blade. “Five million.”
The room goes silent, and all eyes swing to me. No one dares push higher. They know who I am and what I am capable of when crossed. They know what happens to men who test me.
The gavel slams down with a harsh finality.
Sold.
The cage lowers back beneath the stage, taking her with it. My pulse doesn’t ease, and my cock is still as hard as steel. My need is a fucking inferno eating me alive. Mine. For twelve hours. And God help me, I already know twelve won’t be enough.
The gavel’s echo hasn’t even faded when the room erupts again. Alphas cursing, snarling, and posturing like they could’ve outbid me if they really wanted to. But those are nothing but lies. They know better. They’ll leave here frustrated, with their dicks aching, wallets intact but their pride gutted. I don’t care. My focus is already beneath the stage.
I move through the crowd like a shadow, and bodies part for me instinctively. No one touches me. No one meets my eyes. They know I’ll rip out the throat of any man stupid enough to challenge me tonight.
The door to the collection corridor is guarded by two of our betas. They drop their eyes the second I approach, fumbling the locks open like their lives depend on it. And maybe they do.
The corridor smells sterile—disinfectant and ammonia. But beneath it, faint as a thread of silk—her. That sweetness again. Omega. My cock kicks behind the fabric of my pants at the scent alone, and I want to snarl at myself for being this weak.
I almost turn around and leave but I see her waiting at the end of the hall. Naked. Trembling. Arms crossed tight over her chest in a pathetic attempt at modesty. It’s laughable actually. She was just displayed in front more than a hundred Alphas and now she is trying to … I don’t know what the fuck she is trying to do but it isn’t working.
The handler beta lingers near the wall, clipboard in hand, gaze firmly averted. The rules say I have twelve hours. The rules say I can’t mark her. The rules say she’ll leave this place untouched by permanence. I set those rules. Set for a reason I can’t seem to remember right now.
Her eyes lift when she senses me. Huge, dark, and uncertain. My chest tightens at the sight, as though her gaze reaches inside and drags something feral out of me. She looks away too quickly, lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks, and all I want to do is get her to look at me again.
Fuck.
- Series:
- /series-the-sanctuary/
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