chapter 2

Rhonin sat in his car, staring at the building in front of him. 

It looked like a fucking five-star hotel. Tall, sleek and bathed in golden lighting with tinted windows that screamed, 'If you have to ask, you can't afford it.'

"This cannot be real," He muttered. 

The place had a name, too. Eden. Because of course, it did. 

He checked his phone, scrolling through the website Kane had sent him. He'd already spent the entire night digging through forums, news articles and anything that might prove this wasn't some elaborate organ-harvesting scheme. 

Turns out, Eden was the real deal. 

- Exclusive, invitation-only. 

- Clients were high-status omegas who wanted children without marriage. 

- Alphas were medically screened, legally contracted, and paid out only upon a successful pregnancy.

- Failure to conceive meant the alpha owed compensation.

That last part still made him want to throw up, but at least it proved one thing—this wasn't some sleazy backroom operation. This was high-end, high-stakes, and probably full of people who would eat a broke mechanic like him alive. 

His phone buzzed. 

Kane: u there yet? 

Kane: remember: confidence. alphas gotta act like they own the place 

Kane: even if ur broke & smell like car air freshener 

Kane: good luck lmao 

Rhonin rolled his eyes. Asshole. 

But his heart was pounding and he hated that he actually needed the stupid pep talk. 

"Okay," He exhaled. "Just an interview. No big deal." 

He got out of the car, adjusted his hoodie and tried to ignore the fact that he looked like a guy who should be parking cars here, not walking inside. 

Too late now. 

Rhonin stepped inside and the first thing he noticed was the silence. Not the usual kind but the expensive kind. The kind that only existed in places where the air smelled like money and no one had ever been told 'We're out of stock.'

The lobby was sleek—dark marble floors, glass chandeliers and a receptionist desk that looked more like it belonged in a private banking firm than whatever the fuck this place actually was. Even the scent in the air was fancy, some mix of expensive cologne and the type of flowers that probably had Latin names. 

He tugged his hoodie sleeves down and approached the front desk, where a ridiculously polished beta woman gave him a once-over like she was scanning for signs of poverty. 

"Appointment?" She asked, perfectly polite but with the kind of tone that suggested he didn't belong here. 

"Uh, yeah. Rhonin Winter. Interview for…" He hesitated, then forced the words out. "The alpha program." 

She nodded, tapping something on her screen. "You're early. That's good. Please follow me." 

No "Welcome," no "Good luck," just straight to business. The walls in this place had probably never heard casual conversation in their lives. 

She led him through a quiet hallway lined with glass offices, stopping at a door before gesturing for him to step inside. 

"Your evaluation will begin shortly. Please wait here." 

And then she was gone, leaving Rhonin standing in a room that looked like a fancy doctor's office, but worse. 

A sleek, white desk. Two chairs. A goddamn medical bed in the corner. 

This was a mistake. This was a huge fucking mistake. 

The door opened again and a man in a white lab coat entered, carrying a clipboard. He was tall, omega-scented and had the look of someone who took his job way too seriously. 

"Mr. Winter," The doctor said, glancing at his notes. "Welcome to Eden. I'm Dr. Reid. Before we proceed with the interview, we need to complete your preliminary medical screening." 

Rhonin tensed. "Medical screening?" 

"Yes," Dr. Reid said, already moving to the counter and opening a drawer. "We have very high standards for our alphas. Your overall health, hormone balance, and genetic compatibility will be tested. We'll begin with a blood sample, followed by a full-body physical, and then…" He turned, handing Rhonin a sterile container. 

Rhonin stared at it. 

Dr. Reid looked entirely unbothered. "We require a sperm sample as well." 

Rhonin blinked. "You're joking." 

Dr. Reid gave him a very 'Not joking' stare. 

"You—you want me to just—right now?" Rhonin gestured vaguely, like that would make this entire situation less humiliating. 

"You may use the private collection room," Dr. Reid said, already walking toward a side door. "It's soundproof." 

"Oh, well, thank fuck for that," Rhonin muttered. 

Dr. Reid either ignored him or just didn't care. "Please provide the sample within the next ten minutes. If you require assistance—" 

"I don't," Rhonin cut in. 

Dr. Reid gave him a knowing look before stepping aside, motioning toward the door. "Then please proceed." 

Rhonin grabbed the container, scowling. "This is the worst job interview of my life." 

Dr. Reid didn't even blink. "Good luck."

_

Rhonin stepped into the so-called 'private collection room' and immediately wanted to walk the fuck back out. 

It was worse than he expected. 

The walls were sterile white, the lighting was way too bright and there was a tiny-ass couch that looked like it belonged in a therapist's office. A flat-screen monitor was mounted on the wall, already displaying the Eden-approved adult content menu like a fancy hotel porn subscription service. 

On the small table beside the couch, a neatly arranged selection of magazines and lube packets sat waiting, like some cursed welcome package. 

A fucking laminated sign above the table read: 

"Please ensure all samples are deposited in the sterile container provided. Do not dispose of waste materials improperly. Thank you." 

Rhonin dragged a hand down his face. "I hate it here." 

He sat on the couch, staring at the porn menu like it was a hostage situation. The categories were ridiculous. 

- "Elite Omega Heat Sessions – High-Class Clients Only" 

- "Submissive and Breeding-Ready" 

- "The Perfect Omega Mate – Moaning, Begging and Taking It Like a Good Boy" 

Rhonin squinted. "Who the fuck writes these?" 

None of this was helping. He could already tell his dick was not on board with the situation. 

With a sigh, he grabbed a random magazine from the table. The omega on the cover was gorgeous—flushed, slick-covered, mouth parted like he'd just taken a knot—but the second Rhonin flipped through the pages, all he could think was, 'How many other guys have jerked off to this same magazine?'

He dropped it like it burned. "Nope." 

He leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself into the mood. Nothing. His brain was too busy screaming 'THIS IS A MEDICAL OFFICE' to let anything happen. 

Five minutes in and his dick was still on strike. 

"Come on, man," He muttered. "We've been through worse." 

But nope. Not happening. 

His phone vibrated in his hoodie pocket. He pulled it out, half-hoping Kane had sent him another dumb text but instead, he saw something that just might save his life. 

Reddit. 

More specifically, the 18+ ASMR thread he definitely didn't browse at 2 AM when he couldn't sleep. 

Desperate times. 

He plugged in his earphones, scrolled through the most upvoted audios and clicked on one of his personal favorites. 

A deep, sultry voice filled his ears, smooth as sin. 

"Mmm, baby, you're so good for me. Just like that… yeah, let me take care of you." 

Rhonin exhaled sharply, his body finally reacting in a way that didn't make him want to set himself on fire. 

"You wanna give it to me, don't you? You wanna fill me up, alpha?" 

"Jesus fucking Christ," Rhonin muttered under his breath, heat rolling down his spine. 

Finally. 

He let his head fall back against the couch, eyes closed, hand slipping lower. 

At least now he might actually survive this fucking interview.