"Where do you want me?"
Elysian had stood in Euodia's bedroom, naked and waiting for hours with the cold biting into his flesh, seeping into his bones. The candlelight had flickered and danced, revealing tanned skin that stretched over a too thin body. And then the lifeless, aqua eyes that were cast away from hers. He was ashamed.
Euodia did that to him, the broken stare, the tearful gaze, the shivering stance.
Euodia had no interest in his body. She was a Beta that did not sport the monster in her pants that the other women seemed to have. And she had no Ruts to be soothed. But that too had broken Elysian's spirit, his reason to live scattered into the wind, his only form of currency was useless to Euodia.
She didn't need him, not when she had so many others perched at her arm—Helios and Solar.
"Elysian," she'd been cold, a snort vibrating free. She turned, flung the feathery coat of Helios's wings onto the ground. In the glow of candlelight, her mind had lingered on the image of his thick, pretty and flaccid cock. The imagery stayed long enough for Quinn to remember its shape, its pink flesh, the generous girth. It had been ugly to Euodia, too big for an Omega. "You can leave."
"A-Am I not good enough, for you?" There was a tremble in his voice, it stretched higher, grew pitched. "What do you want me to do? M-my people—" He choked back a sob as he stumbled forth, knees buckling as he fell to the ground. "D-do I no longer please you? A-am I too ugly?"
The people of this world believed that Elysian was a repulsive man for a husband. He was too grotesque with his too muscular, too tall, and too broad body. But looking back Quinn could only remember his beauty in the disgust that tainted Euodia's memories.
"You should leave."
"P-please, my people, they need this."
Elysian had sank to his knees, and for a moment black met pure, crystal blue. His eyes searched hers, tears filling gentle blue. Elysian was exquisite in his symmetrical handsome beauty. The people of this time might not appreciate his frame or the muscles that curved over thin, fatless skin. But Quinn did, and Quinn dreamt of his face, the pretty swell of the most kissable lips, the divine arch of a gorgeous nose. The wet, dreamy eyes.
Elysian had been whimpering. "I know I do not please you but at the very least, my people will idolise you, worship you if you just helped them. We do not need much, just the use of the trade routes would be enough for my—"
"And why should I help you?" she'd raised a brow, smirk on her lips. Euodia had been a menace that night, breath stained with the barbequed stench of crisped meat, while Elysian had merely lapped at the remains of rat blood. "Why should I help them when you're the most useless Omega I've ever met? You can give me nothing. Nothing."
"Use me!" he'd begged, bawled with fat tears on his cheeks. "Do what you want, anything you want. I will comply, I promise. Anything." He'd kissed her shoes, but to that she'd merely kicked him away. His body sprawled across the wood, weak and shaking. A red bruise growing on his cheek.
"Give out the order to the press naked," she'd whispered, soft a smile on her lip. Euodia had flourished her hands, laughing. "Prince Elysian has failed to seduce the Princess with his ugly body. The trade routes will be dissolved. The North will no longer protect the South." He'd whimpered at her words, and she only crouched with a crazed smirk. "Do it, and I might save a few of your Omegas. Perhaps," she'd quirked her head, "even your family?"
The next day Elysian had stood sobbing and naked on the balcony as he broadcasted her words to his people. It took only a week for the kingdom of the South to fall, and for the North to sweep up the broken pieces, along with the remains of Elysian's once kind and loving heart.
*
The café bar was a familiar fixture of her past.
An open concept popup store manned by two Omegas with blackboard menus and a slick silver kitchen of pump driven espresso. The shop sat at the base of an office, a government building that seemed to be the heart of the elite. It did not hold the decay of the post-apocalypse with its tall open glass and carpeted floor. But the space was drenched with a slight sticky musk of age—the traces of its crumbling architecture.
There were no soldiers babysitting the Alphas, for their higher rank deemed them good enough to be left alone at the hands of their new supervisors. But there were restrains, and there were barriers. Measures to prevent them from potentially going into a Rut.
From her position by the roasting beans, she could smell the coffee, listen to the beans shuddering in outdated machinery, and watch the Omega baristas work on simple muffins and pretty tea cakes. Quinn sat chained and masked; arm plugged with a stopper for easy access to her blood. But she had the space to shift, to cross her legs and fold her hands in the dark frock they'd dressed them in.
The five Alphas sat in a line behind thick panelled glass.
It was cage-like with silver bars on all sides. But included a small window in the glass with a wooden plank to allow for their arms to rest and blood to be retrieved from the outside. It was a relatively simple enclosure, but they stood out like a beacon, as animals do in their cages. And the Omegas that entered, sleepy and barely awake, were quickly curious with their eyes fixated on their presence.
The staff that manned the station had the kindness to offer a cup of coffee to them that morning, and Quinn had relished the first taste with a grateful sigh. Her smile had been gentle, voice soft as she thanked the barista. And perhaps even too kind for the older Omega barista had seemed a little shaken, taking quick steps back with jittery pupils. His cheeks pink.
The colour and smell of the cup seemed akin to the ones she loved. Tar black and with a foam of seashore like waves of brown froth, but the taste was cheap. The bitterness splattered with the dirty stale scent of mouldy beans, and sour through every note. The coffee was nothing like what she knew –deep and smooth like bitter chocolate with its caramel tones—and she resisted the urge to spit it out.
Was this what the elite drank these days? She concealed a gag behind a burp. Good fucking God. She swallowed it down with a pinched smile, lips almost puckered. Then wondered if he'd spiked the cup with something, for the Omega poured the rest of that brew down the drain.
The first customer that purchased a drink with blood had not seem too excited. He ordered a cup and then pointed to an Alpha by her side, his gaze darting to her eyes. The girl's blood was released from the tap in her arm, poured fresh into the steaming mug. The blood had pooled, crimson dribbling just a little as the Omega capped the stopper shut on her flesh.
This continued in waves with each hoard of office workers, and it was easy to sit dazed and waiting with her arm out like a goddamn watercooler. But the preference for her blood grew quickly obvious. The whispers growing as excitement peaked, the Omegas were pointing her way with growing smiles.
They purchased her blood because she was Beta, and then because their friends said that she tasted better.
She'd listened, heard the dreamy whispers from the Omegas that her blood was fruity and rich like no other, did not stink of the domination of the Alpha and tasted clean. Fresh. Juicy. She did not taste as weak and as watery as the rest. And Quinn had looked away, ignored the glares from her fellow Alphas with a small frown.
Surely it must be because of her amazing diet in the wastelands, she grimaced just a little lamented the days when her dinners were choke full of fat, grease and good-smells.
Quinn was a massive hit at her first day as a cow, but eventually the crowd left for work. The morning rush growing quiet. The barista had approached her, wordless as he opened the tap on her arm for his own drink. His eyes never lefts hers as he swallowed, pupils only growing redder as his fingers traced the skin of her flesh.
She looked away, and it seemed to be the correct response for he his grip on her wrist only grew softer. A purr began from the older Omega, red curls tucked behind his ear as if he were shy. Shit, she cursed. Quinn did not want a pack, not with how odd the entire arrangement seemed to be.
But the quiet entrance of someone far more superior had him rushing forward. His back straight, his feet snapped tight together. The two Omega baristas bowed to the stranger that was flanked by guards. A tall Omega with sunglasses perched on a gorgeous nose.
He seemed strangely familiar as he approached the bar, tongue pressed to his cheek. He'd squinted, shoulders so broad he seemed to struggle to fit in his tailored suit, muscles stretching the silk. His hair was swept back, revealing his forehead and a small face. His eyebrows furrowed, weaved into a frown of almost disdain. He was beautiful symmetry. And his lips were the softest and in the shade of the most adorable pink—the kind that seemed to be made for kisses, fluff and love.
The Alphas by her side seemed to preen, almost tasting his prowess in the partition that separated them. The glass prevented their ability to catch scent in the air, but his aura swept and called, seemed to catch in her navel and pull tugging her towards him.
But Quinn's breath only grew shallow, eyes casting away from the elite. There was no point in catching the attention of someone higher up, for the more power an Omega had, the harder it would be to escape from their grasp.
"Blood Slave," the Omega barista called, and her head jerked up, her arm quickly placed upon the wood.
He turned on the tap in her flesh, fresh blood pouring free. A growl started from the female Alpha by her side which she halted quickly at the glare from the staff, sound stuttering in her throat. Quinn sighed; it wasn't her fault that she was a preferred choice for all. He made quick work to brew his coffee, and she glanced down, eyeing her cuticles.
The growl was what had her gaze darting upwards towards the pretty stranger. A smooth mellow hiss that coiled pretty around her throat, crushing the air from her lungs. And God the sight of him was horrifying, her breath catching in her throat.
He'd had crushed the cup in his hands, the coffee dripping down his front, spilled messy over the pretty press of his suit. The crimson of her blood staining the dewy pout of his lips. His eyes were red enough to spill from the darkness of his glasses, and he stared at her, eyes boring deep. Shit. She hurried to look away to look down, ready to prostrate herself on the carpeted floor.
What had he tasted? What could he taste? Her mind searched for information. Could the elite vampires taste the chocolate in her blood? Could he tell that she had secret meals? Could he taste the churn of nutrients that existed in her blood? Her teeth snagged on her lip, fear dripping through.
The glass door clapped open, soldiers pulling her to stand, and she complied without a word. There was a small giggle from the Alpha by her side and Quinn caught the look of smug pleasure in her eyes. Bitch. The Alpha's smirk only grew, a haughty sniff.
Quinn was ordered to follow, and she did with quick pace. She was almost flung into an office, abandoned and empty, the door closing around her as she stumbled on the carpet. Her gaze falling upon the legs of a table of oak and simple plastic chairs. The Omega in sunglasses stood, leaning against the wood, feet crossed, a tissue to his chest.
"Urgh," he was hissing, voice a soft mellow whisper. It spun like sugar and honey. "Got it all over my new clothes." The buttons popped open, and she caught sight of a bare chest, the pink of perky nipples. The skin was smooth, honeyed and taut. She moved quickly to a kneel, her breath caught in her throat as his scent flooded the room, the sweetness of cold delicious yoghurt. Saliva pooled in her throat, the tug at her navel seemed to only grow, fluttering with the butterflies in her belly. "Leave us."
"But your highness—" The soldier protested, and Quinn froze at his words, eyes growing wider. Fuck. She thanked God for the mask for it muffled her gasp, quelled her own horror. She sank into its depths, breathing hard upon the metal that clung to her cheeks.
"Leave," the snarl ripped free, ripe with his rage, with his insanity. And her mind searched for a name to the voice. The door closed and silence returned, the light cast upon her cheek. She squinted through its flare. "Slave," the voice was cold. "On your feet," she stood quickly, blinked at the silhouette. "Show me your wrist." She did, felt the déjà vu of a situation that must have happened before.
"Good," was the purr from his throat. And he entered her vision, body shadowed as he shielded the light. And God, those eyes, arctic blue and crystalline. That face of the most exquisite beauty, eyes that had once been so dewy and generous with its tears. But there was not an ounce of his weakness on his face now, only a madness that stretched hungry in his jaw. His lips stretched, revealed incisors.
A vampire king.