Ianthe jerked awake in a cold sweat, aftershocks still wracking her body. Her fingers bunched in the thin blanket as she willed her frantic heartbeat to slow to a more normal rhythm.

The dreams had come each and every time she slept since the night at Eros House. Over seven cycles had passed and, instead of diminishing with time, the dreams had only grown more intense. It was becoming difficult to remember that they were only fantasy and not reality.

She didn’t want to think about how many times she had woken in the last week with her frantic fingers buried between her legs.

Thankfully, she was alone in the apartment. Circe had gone to the market, wearing the protective scarf that covered her disfigured face, and Eaon still attended the compulsory education program during the day. He liked to call it government-sponsored indoctrination. But they forced him to go, without completing primary schooling it was nearly impossible to get a work certificate.

Her sister had already remarked on the loud moans that came from her room each night. She had grown tired of trying to explain it away. She already knew there was something very wrong with her and she didn’t need another reminder.

Ianthe rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom, stumbling as her brain struggled to fully wake. The tile floor was cold beneath her feet as she worked at the faucet with trembling fingers.

Her twin moved with her as a reflection in the dingy mirror. The bruises on her thighs and back were mostly gone, with only a handful of small black and purple smudges in the shape of fingerprints remaining, but the memory persisted as strong as ever.

She felt a pang at the thought that soon the marks would disappear completely. She would miss the physical reminder, it was the only reassurance that the entire thing hadn’t been a figment of her imagination.

The Procurer had not contacted her again since that night. She couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved. She didn’t want to carry this desire to see the Alpha again, but it was difficult to ignore.

And there was danger in obsession, it could lead her to a place that she wouldn’t come back from.

Ianthe dressed for work in the drab gray jumpsuit that marked her as a service provider in the lower sector. She had more important things to think about than the Alpha that she would never see again.

It was a slow day at the cafeteria.

She stood behind the payment counter, topping off bottles of condiments and surveying the expanse of empty tables. Like most employees in the service sector, she earned a portion of the day’s proceeds as wages, so no customers meant no credits in her pocket.

“Another day in paradise, huh?”

Ianthe turned to glance at the woman working next to her. Miranda was a more senior employee and seemed to derive particular pleasure from being difficult to work with. She also liked to ask the kind of questions that Ianthe preferred not to answer.

“Looks like it,” Ianthe replied, returning her attention to organizing the items on the shelf in front of her. “Hopefully, it picks up soon.”

Miranda picked up a rag and sidled closer to where Ianthe stood, swiping haphazardly at the counter. “Did you get your hair done?”

Ianthe resisted the urge to put a hand to the tumultuous brown waves on her head that had not changed by so much as a curl. “No.”

“There’s something different about you. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“If you say so.”

Ianthe moved to the fill station where food orders were processed and began stacking the clean trays. Miranda followed her, buzzing in her ear like a stubborn fly.

“How’s your brother, does he still have the coughing sickness?”

Ianthe sighed and turned to face the other woman, who clearly wouldn’t allow her to escape the conversation.

“Yes, and he’s about to get kicked out of primary for missing too many days of school.” Ianthe slid the trays back on the rack despite an overwhelming urge to throw it at someone. “This is the lower levels. Things are never good.”

The other woman smirked. “Did I tell you that my daughter was just pair-bonded to a guardian Alpha from the middle levels? Her mate said I can move in with them once they’re settled.”

“How nice that would be for you.” She kept the sarcasm at bay, but only with an effort.

“It was a beautiful ceremony.”

It was no secret that many families in the slums hoped to unite their daughters with well-placed Alphas or Betas who lived in the higher levels with hopes it would raise their own position. If Ianthe still had parents, perhaps they would have done the same thing although she liked to think that they would have left the choice of mate up to her.

Although she clearly wasn’t above trading her body for money and comfort.

Disgusted with both herself and Miranda, Ianthe turned back to her station, swiping at the counter with hard strokes of a rag. “I’ve never been to a bonding ceremony.”

“It was lovely.” Miranda cast her a triumphant smile. “He paid for it all, of course. A proper Alpha always does, you know.”

Ianthe had no desire to ever see a bonding ceremony. The practice was barbaric, but very fashionable among the citizens of the middle and upper levels who had the credits to make a spectacle of themselves.

The pair bond was a mysterious thing and something she had only read about while searching the CommNet. Only Alphas were capable of initiating a true pair-bond, forging a literal soul connection to their mate that moved beyond the physical and into the spiritual. It was said that a pair bond connected two people to their very souls.

Ianthe didn’t believe in souls, or that they could be tied together in some metaphysical way. But pair-bonding ceremonies were popular. The male would bite his mate, while a crowd of their friends and family watched, and then rut her in front of the assembled crowd. Ianthe considered the whole thing to be completely barbaric and disgusting. As far as she was concerned, the pair-bonding ceremony was just an excuse that Alphas used to make a public show out of claiming their mates. There was no such thing as a soul connection between two people.

The door chimed, shaking Ianthe from her reverie. She realized that she had been wiping the same spot on the counter for the past several minutes.

She looked up to find Miranda still watching her, expression smug. “Why don’t you take this one, honey? It looks like you could use the distraction.”

“Thanks,” Ianthe murmured. She wanted to add for nothing but resisted the urge.

Ianthe pushed off the counter, wiping her hands on the apron that was part of the required uniform. She turned to face the service station, a fake smile already half-plastered on her face.

Then she came face to face with the Procurer.

She froze, mouth working uselessly as she tried to no avail to produce coherent sounds.

“Table for one.” His smile was amused, as he obviously derived pleasure from her discomfiture. “I assume there isn’t a wait.”

The cafeteria was practically deserted, save for a few regulars who squatted on tables throughout the day for the free refills on coffee.

“Right this way,” Ianthe murmured, voice tight.

Grabbing a menu tablet, she moved around the counter and led him to a booth in the back of the cafeteria, away from the handful of other customers and hopefully out of Miranda’s hearing.

She struggled to maintain her composure, caught in the epicenter of two colliding worlds. Who did this Alpha think he was? He had no right to intrude on her life without warning. Someone of his standing would never wander the slums just for kicks, so he was clearly here for her. She bristled at his unexpected, and entirely unwelcome, appearance.

Ianthe waited for the Procurer to seat himself and inwardly seethed.

He pulled a silk handkerchief out of the pocket of his suit jacket and wiped it across the battered tabletop, a look of disgust twisting his aquiline features.

“What a charming little place.”

Pressed beyond any ability to be reasonable, Ianthe dropped the ordering tablet in front of him. “I am not okay with this.”

“You’re looking well, Ianthe.” He appeared completely unfazed by her small burst of temper. “Is it too much to ask for a glass of water that hasn’t come directly from a waste river?”

She couldn’t hide a small smirk. “We only run the distillers at designated meal hours.”

“Pity.” He appeared to be ignoring her insolent tone if he noticed it at all. “I will have a bowl of soup without additives, if you please. Are there any specials?”

She hated having to be a player in whatever game had brought him, a man clearly born of privilege, into her slum. “You cannot be serious.”

“No specials, then?”

“The farmfish is special, if by that you mean it’s still a few days from turning.”

“I believe I’ll pass, thank you.” He surveyed her silently for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Might I suggest that you fetch me a cup of hot tea while you take a moment to soothe your ruffled feathers. Perhaps then, we can speak like civilized adults.”

The warning in his voice was clear as a bell. As much as she wanted to continue mouthing off, her actions had clear consequences. This man was an Alpha from the higher levels. He could ruin her if he chose — get her fired from her position at the cafeteria or her family kicked out of their apartment. Slum dwellers relied on those from the upper levels for their very survival, angering the Procurer would gain her nothing.

“Fine,” she said through gritted teeth.

Miranda was on her the moment that she reached the service counter.

“You spent a lot of time with that man? Do you know him? He smells like an Alpha.”

“I don’t know, Miranda. Why don’t you ask him for yourself?”

Miranda looked as if she were considering doing just that before her greater sense of reason returned. “You two just seemed very cozy.”

Ianthe resisted the urge to roll her eyes so hard that they’d fall out of her head. “He’s just a customer.”

She busied herself at the drink station, trying to ignore Miranda’s overpowering presence, wishing she had the strength to just walk out the door and never return.

Miranda followed her to the edge of the counter, stopping short of accompanying her all the way to the table. Even that miserable woman was smart enough not to force an unwelcome interaction on an Alpha male. She might get the attention she craved with a boot on her neck.

Ianthe set the metal teapot and a cup on the table, keeping her eyes trained on the items in her hand. She could feel his gaze on her as he watched her movements, but she avoided looking at him.

Standing straight, Ianthe fixed her gaze firmly on the air a foot above his head. “Are you ready to order, sir?”

The Procurer laughed, the sound like a piece of ice running down her spine. “Poor little darling, so confused about what she needs.”

Her fingers clenched in a fist as a wave of anger and fear rolled over her. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Don’t you?” Fingers too large for elegance lifted the pot and carefully poured hot water in the cup. He picked up a spoon and twirled it. “I think you know why I’m here.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I truly don’t.”

“Stop it.” He set the spoon down with a hard click. He moved to rise. “Some may enjoy your little spark of insolence, but it does nothing for me. Perhaps I should leave you to the service sector and be done with it.”

“Wait.” The word spilled from her lips before she could stop it, and she cursed her own weakness. She was supposed to be stronger than this. The Procurer was obviously here because of him — the Alpha who had owned her body and still consumed her thoughts. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry enough to abandon the poor attitude?” At her small nod, the Procurer brought the cup to his lips and took a small sip. He grimaced and set it down again. “It seems your temper is somehow attractive enough to some that I’ve had specific requests for you. Consider this an invitation to join us for another night at Eros House.”

Her Alpha’s face, because what else was she to call him, swam in her vision. It was useless to pretend that there wasn‘t a small and crazy part of her yearning to see him again. The more realistic side of her understood just how very dangerous that would be.

She didn’t even have to think about it. “No.”

The Procurer’s eyebrows rose in surprise, clearly not an emotion that he was used to experiencing. “And why not?”

Ianthe’s hands clenched into fists. Why wouldn’t she want to whore herself out to the Alphas of the upper levels? “I have my reasons.”

“Have you picked up a new moral compass? Or did your previous encounter somehow disappoint? I can assure you that you performed admirably.”

Ianthe felt something deep in her belly clench as an answering wave of shame coursed through her. “The answer is no. I’ll get your soup.” She had already turned away when his voice stopped her.

“Every woman is a whore, you know.”

Her shoulders stiffened and her gaze immediately flew to Miranda who still hovered by the service counter. She prayed the overly curious woman was out of earshot.

Pivoting on her heel, Ianthe glared down at the smirking Alpha. “Do not call me that.”

“It’s simply a matter of supply and demand, my dear. There’s no shame in it. Nature has blessed you with a valuable commodity and it would be a shame not to put it to use. How many of the mated Beta females in the upper levels would be there if they hadn’t been willing to trade their bodies for wealth and privilege? It’s simply the way of things.”

Ianthe bristled at that, even as his words rang with some small twist of truth. “And all you Alphas are the same. Just because the game was rigged from the start doesn’t mean you’re not still a cheater. And I’m choosing not to play.”

“Your mother was a slum-born Omega, was she not?”

“I don’t have to listen to this—“

“Do you think your father would have raised her out of the dirt and into a life of relative comfort, if not for her beauty and his desire to possess it? Supply and demand, dear girl. This is simply how the world works. The sooner that you accept it, the happier you will be.”

At that moment, she had never hated anyone more.

Face carefully blank, Ianthe took a deep breath. “Your soup should be right out. Is there anything else that I can get for you, sir?”

“If you return for another night at Eros House, payment will increase to 1500 credits. All other contract terms remain in force.”

Ianthe froze, caught by his words before she could flee his presence. Her mind couldn’t help but turn to thoughts of what that amount of credits could do for her family. It was likely pocket change to a man like the Procurer, but for her, it was so much more.

And had the last time really been so bad?

She could pay for a year of Eaon’s breathing treatments and buy an air purifier for the apartment that might actually prevent the return of his sickness. But she also wasn’t so naïve as to think that this transaction was fair in any way. The Procurer was hoping to take advantage of her desperation.

“I understand it’s not something that you’re used to hearing, but when I say no that’s precisely what I mean.” Decision made, Ianthe almost relished the look of shock on the older Alpha’s face when she spoke. It wasn’t true courage that loosened her tongue. Ianthe recognized that she had to burn this bridge completely to be certain she would never cross it again. “I’ll send Miranda over with your soup. If there’s anything else you require, please alert the service staff.”

She did not get to spend much time congratulating herself before the Procurer spoke again.

“He requested you personally, you know. That doesn’t happen often.”

There was no need for him to say who he was, it could only be her Alpha. “I’m not for sale.”

“This is Pandora, everything and everyone is for sale.” The Procurer’s tone was mocking. “It’s only a matter of the price. Perhaps yours isn’t measured only in credits.”

She glared down at him, very aware of the fact that she hadn’t yet walked away. “I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

“I mean that I’m offering you fifteen hundred credits to do something that you want to do anyway. It’s only your own inhibitions that stand in your way.”

But the risk was just too great. And she was no longer for sale.

Her head was already moving in a negative, even as she felt an answering pull deep in her chest. She had to remember what just one night with that Alpha had done to her, she couldn’t afford another. “No.”

The Procurer appeared unconcerned by her harsh tone. “You’re more willful than most, which I assure you is not a compliment. I can offer you two thousand credits, but it must be tonight.”

“I’m sure there are at least a dozen girls, willful or otherwise, he’s had before that would be just as satisfactory.”

The old Alpha smirked. “There are no other girls. Just you.”

She felt her heart skip a beat. “You’re lying.”

He raised an eyebrow at the insult but appeared otherwise unfazed. “Why would I?”

That an Alpha whose name she did not even know had some sort of preference for her shouldn’t have mattered. She should not have felt the tremor that clenched her stomach and made her feel briefly lightheaded. But somehow, it did. Perhaps one more night would finally banish the specter of him from her thoughts and her dreams. Like an addict desperate for a fix, she couldn’t help but think to herself: just once more and then I can be done.

“Okay.”

She truly was a whore.