Chapter 2
Jamie's POV
I stared at the glowing blue system screen, the word "Omega" burning into my retinas like a brand. My brain, bless its stubborn, single-minded nature, tried to process the information, but all it could come up with was a string of frustrated, incredulous curse words. An Omega? In a world ruled by hulking, savage beast-men, a world I had only moments ago been blissfully unaware of? And to top it all off, I was a straight man. This wasn't a video game with a ridiculous plotline; this was my life. And my life had just jumped off a cliff and into a pile of… well, beast-men.
My stomach, ever the drama queen, grumbled in protest. The gnawing hunger from a few hours ago had been replaced by a new, more profound sense of dread. I sighed, running a hand through my hair, a gesture of pure bewilderment. This was insane. But as the system continued to explain the lore of "Forever Savagely," I had no choice but to listen.
It was a story about a disgraced alpha, a Siberian tiger named Lucien, and his awful omega mate. I scrolled through the text, a sense of mounting horror gripping me as I read about the world's most brutal and feared alphas and omegas. It was a world of raw power, instinct, and a complete lack of personal space.
"Okay, but why am I here?" I thought, my mind struggling to find a familiar anchor. I had been at my desk, a bowl of instant noodles waiting for me, and now I was in a literal dungeon.
I read on, the system's text painting a grim, horrifying summary of the original Jamie's life: how he hated Lucien for losing his power, abused their children, and tried to betray his mate by sleeping around with other alphas. The previous Jamie was a complete piece of work, a character so vile and self-serving that I felt a shiver of disgust just reading about him. Just as the previous Jamie was in the middle of a particularly nasty, self-serving plot, he had been tricked and captured by a rival pack. Now, as a prisoner, he was a slave, about to be sold to the highest bidder.
My blood ran cold, and the reality of my situation finally hit me. I was in a slave market. My body, my life, was about to be auctioned off. And the only thing I had with me was a bag of lukewarm instant noodles and a new, terrifying reality.
Before I could even finish panicking, I jerked up to the unmistakable sound of a door being unlatched and the equally unmistakable stench of something that had been dead for a very, very long time. I was in a cage, a filthy, foul-smelling thing made of rough wood and cold, damp dirt. It felt less like a set from a low-budget fantasy film and more like a real-life nightmare. The reality of the cold, damp dirt under my feet felt all too real, a painful reminder that this was not a dream.
Before I could even finish processing the fact that I was not in my apartment, a large, calloused hand grabbed the collar of my tunic, the rough fabric scratching against my throat. I was yanked unceremoniously from the cage and into a harsh, unforgiving sunlight that made my eyes water.
"Get moving, runt," a gruff voice grunted, the words a low growl.
I stumbled forward, my feet barely keeping up with the brutish man dragging me. My senses were on high alert, a panicked symphony of new sights and sounds. The air was thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and something else… something wild and musky that made my skin tingle. I was surrounded by men—no, not men. Beast-men.
They were impossibly handsome and rugged, with a raw, predatory energy that made the hairs on my arms stand up. Their skin was the color of rich earth and burnished gold, their muscles corded and powerful, a testament to a life lived in the wild.
They were the kind of men who belonged on the cover of a fantasy romance novel, but the hungry, lecherous looks they gave me made my stomach churn. I was, and always had been, one-hundred percent straight. So straight, in fact, that my biggest crush in life was on a pepperoni pizza.
My mind, in a desperate attempt to find something familiar, something that made sense, latched onto one thought:
Is there a kitchen here? I bet they don't even have kettles. How on earth am I going to make coffee or tea?
My priorities, it seemed, had not yet caught up to my new reality.
My feet slid to a halt as I was pulled into the center of a large, open square. I was on a raised platform, a stone block that smelled of stale blood and a thousand broken promises.
Below me, a crowd had gathered, their eyes fixed on me with a disgusting mix of curiosity and lust. My hands trembled as I clutched the neck of my tunic, the fabric a flimsy shield against their piercing stares. A man with a booming voice and a smug smile stepped onto the platform, his eyes gleaming with greed.
"Feast your eyes, gentle beastmen, on our newest acquisition!" he bellowed, his voice echoing across the square. "A rare omega, unlike any other! Look at his skin—a unique, pale complexion you will never find in this land. He may be slender and curvy, but I can assure you his beauty is unmatched!"
I tried to ignore the stares, but it was impossible. My skin, a light, caramel color inherited from my Blasian heritage, was considered "abnormal" here. I was a spectacle. A prize. It was sickening. A single, hot tear rolled down my cheek, a silent testament to the fear and disgust I felt.
"We'll start the bidding at a single silver coin!" the auctioneer bellowed.
My mind was a million miles away, still trying to reconcile this scene with my life just moments ago. Was this a dream? Was I still asleep in my apartment?
I looked at the beast-men in the crowd, their rugged features contorted with lust. I was a foodie, a gamer, a loner. The last thing I ever wanted to be was someone's plaything, a piece of meat to be bought and sold.
"Five silvers!" a voice shouted from the crowd.
"One gold!" another boomed, and the crowd murmured in shock.
I felt a pang of… something. Was I worth that little? The thought was immediately followed by a wave of self-disgust. This wasn't about my value; it was about the sickening feeling of being objectified and sold. The price kept climbing: two gold, three gold, five gold… I just wanted a simple life. A life with food that I cooked myself.
I wonder if they have a coffee shop here? Or at least some tea. I really need some caffeine to deal with this.
My mind was still stuck on the fact that I would be a slave, and I wouldn't have the freedom to eat whatever I wanted. This was my worst nightmare. The thought of never again being able to walk into a grocery store or order a pizza was more terrifying than anything else.
"Ten gold!.
Suddenly, a voice, deep and resonant, cut through the crowd's excited chatter. A sudden hush fell over the crowd as all eyes, including mine, snapped to the source of the sound. He was standing on a large rock, a little away from the main crowd, his presence a palpable force. It was a raw, untamed power that made my skin tingle. He was impossibly tall, with a mane of wild golden-brown hair that seemed to catch the sunlight and muscles that seemed carved from stone. A cold, detached look was etched on his face, a mask of disinterest that was a stark contrast to the greed of the men around him. A faint, holographic symbol hovered above his head, a glowing message that only I could see: Lucien, Siberian Tiger Alpha.
It was him. The disgraced general. The man I was destined to be mated to in this horrible story. My stomach flipped, a mixture of pure terror and a strange, grudging admiration. He was breathtakingly handsome, in a rugged, savage sort of way. For a second, a fleeting, forbidden thought crossed my mind. Damn. He is hot. My conscience immediately slapped me. Jamie, what the heck are you thinking? He's a beast-man! And you are straight! Get it together!
The auctioneer looked confused, then a wide, ugly smile spread across his face. "Ten gold! The magnificent Lucien claims the prize!"
The crowd erupted into murmurs, the whispers like a swarm of angry bees. "The disgraced general?" one whispered. "Why would he waste so much gold on that useless thing?" another said loudly, hoping to be heard. "Well, what do you expect? He is here to claim his flirtatious, runaway mate." I knew what they were thinking. Lucien was a former hero, exiled and stripped of his status. Everyone saw him as a weak and useless outcast, a disgrace to his pack. His presence here was nothing short of a spectacle.
Lucien didn't acknowledge them. He simply walked toward the platform, his gaze cold and distant. It landed on me, and for a moment, I saw a flash of something in his eyes. It wasn't lust or desire. It was pure, unfiltered loathing. It was the same look I had heard about in the story—the look he gave the previous Jamie, a look of disappointment and disdain so profound it could freeze a polar vortex. He was buying me back because of a deep, unbreakable bond between mates, not out of love. He didn't even acknowledge my existence, his gaze colder than a polar vortex. My heart sank. This was it. This was my life now.
As he paid for me, the crowd's whispering increased. "The disgraced general bought him back." "He must be truly weak." "An outcast buying back a slave." Lucien ignored them all. He simply turned and walked away, and I had no choice but to follow. I scurried to keep up, trailing behind him like a disobedient puppy. My head was down, my mind a mess of frantic thoughts.
He was a general, but he had no honor here. I was an omega, but I was straight. He didn't even look at me. The reality of my situation hit me with the force of a tidal wave. I was trapped in this world, with a husband who despised me from the moment he laid eyes on me. But it didn't matter. As long as there was food.
The first order of business: figure out how to find a decent kitchen.
The second: try not to get killed.
The third, and possibly the most important: find a way to make tea. This world was going to be a lot harder to deal with if I couldn't get my caffeine fix. I just hoped the Millar System had a "coffee pot" option in its inventory. My survival depended on it.