Omega Society Auction (Rourke Book 1) by Eileen Glass

Author:Eileen Glass [Glass, Eileen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Glass Fiction
Published: 2017-12-15T16:00:00+00:00

Stephanie hasn’t let go of him. Which is good because Rourke could keel over at any moment. His insides are shaky and hollow, ready to spew out of his mouth. Stephanie takes his pallor and trembling for nerves and she’s full of soothing words.

“He’s going to love you, I just know it. Even if he doesn’t—which would never happen—he won’t be rude to you, you know. That’s, like, unthinkable to them. They haven’t handled omegas well in the past, with regards to free will and all…” She chuckles. “But they are reverent. I promise. You have nothing to worry about.”

All he can manage is, “Yeah. Uh huh. Okay,” while he’s thinking about retching in the corner of their pristine cargo deck. But if he did that, they’d haul him back into the clinic. They’d declare him unhealthy and revoke the whole deal. He underwent several physical examinations and a genetic history evaluation just to qualify. Health is of the utmost importance for producing alien offspring.

So, he can’t fuck this up. He has to keep it down and maintain a handle on it somehow.

The door makes a squeegee sound as it parts. The boarding bridge is a red carpeted hallway at a downward slant and another pair of doors waits at the end of that.

“You ready?”

Rourke nods.

“Poor thing. You’ll laugh about this memory later, alright? Let’s go meet your dream man!”

She starts off, but quickly discovers that Rourke’s pace won’t match hers. Fortunately, she’s patient and doesn’t let go. Rourke has to lean into her a bit too to stay standing, and she doesn’t say anything. Good ol’ Stephanie.

The downhill slope isn’t helping. The hallway wobbles, but actually it’s him swaying.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” she asks, and Rourke rights himself quickly. He’s so close to getting off this space toaster and starting a new life for his mother and him.

“What if he doesn’t like me?” he whispers, to throw off her suspicions.

“He will, sweetie,” she says, and frees one hand to brush the hair back from his forehead. But Rourke’s stomach makes a dangerous lurch, and there’s no pulling through now. His breakfast is coming up, immediately.

“Oh god.”

He lets her go and runs for it, hitting the door fast, scanning the room for a toilet or a trashcan. He sees a smear of chairs and a big window with the shuttle visible outside. There’s a few people standing next to him, but time has run out and Rourke hones in on the one useful object. A potted plant.

He’s feels bad inside and out for more than physical reasons. But it’s better than puking on Stephanie’s nice high heels, or the glossy marble floor. Despite his misery, he’s well aware that the building is nice.

“I’m sorry,” he tells Stephanie, or whoever is listening.

“It’s alright,” he hears, but it’s a man’s voice, soft and smooth.

Oh no. This is a disaster.

He looks up before he can stop himself—and before he can wipe away a wet spot under his lips. But another lurch seizes him and he has his head in the plant before he can even begin to stammer out a second apology.

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