Noah forced himself to stand on legs that felt like rubber. He noted, with a fleeting moment of relief and gratitude, that his clothes were still on his body. He straightened, then wobbled slightly for effect, fixing his gaze on the three naked men in the room.
"I saw something on television," Noah announced, his voice surprisingly steady despite the roaring in his ears. "A striptease. I want to give my first partner in bed one. Can you three kindly come up to the bed so you can enjoy my dance?"
Boss Ryan threw his head back and laughed, a loud, booming sound. "Of course, you can! I wasn't expecting you to still be this lucid, though. All the other Omegas would have been reduced to a whimpering mess by now, a pure bitch in heat. But you're different. You can still speak coherently. I like that."
Noah could feel reserves of strength within him, born of adrenaline and sheer terror, but he knew he had to maintain the illusion of being completely drugged. He let his body sway, exaggerating the effect until he actually staggered and nearly fell.
Boss Ryan was instantly at his side, helping him stabilize. Noah let out a soft, involuntary moan, hating the sound but knowing it sold the act. He even forced a simpering smile and said, "Thank you, darling."
He turned to the younger Alpha and the other middle-aged Beta. "Then can you come sit on the bed together, so I can start? I really want to do this."
Boss Ryan, already preening at being called 'darling' and captivated by Noah's unusual boldness compared to his past victims, agreed immediately. "It's okay, of course."
He scrambled onto the king-sized bed. The other two, not wanting to be excluded from the apparent fun and attention Noah was giving, quickly followed suit.
Now, the bed, occupied by three eager, naked men, was the focal point of the room, and Noah was closer to the door. He knew he could run out now, but he needed a safer margin, a crucial delay.
He started to dance.
Noah was a naturally good dancer, but now, he contorted his movements, making them appear clumsy, silly, and agonizingly slow, exactly as a drugged person would move. The three men, however, were not deterred by his drunken performance. They clapped their hands, mesmerized by the Omega in heat before them.
Noah seductively reached for his shirt. Boss Ryan had already undone a few buttons earlier. While other male Omegas usually had severe inhibitions about undressing in front of others, Noah was not a typical Omega. He often went shirtless at the beach, ignoring the strange looks he received, and he felt no inherent shame now.
He pulled the shirt off, his torso bare, and then, wobbling toward the young Alpha, he flashed him a seductive wink. The Alpha, thrilled by the attention, willingly raised his arms as Noah used his shirt to bind the man's wrists to the solid bedpost.
Noah knew that if he ran, the young Alpha would be the most capable of catching him quickly. Tying him up was a necessary tactical move. He tightened the shirt as much as he could, knowing Alpha strength was immense, hoping the cloth would provide at least a momentary delay.
Boss Ryan and the other Beta grumbled in mock complaint. "You can't show the young one love only! Don't leave us, the elders, dry, okay?"
The drug was starting to affect Noah quicker now, a searing heat and a growing fog making his need for escape urgent. He managed to smile at them in a deliberately silly way. "Don't be anxious, okay? Don't you want to watch the rest of my striptease?"
"Of course, we still want to watch!" they answered in unison.
"Then be calm, okay?"
Noah staggered toward the front of the bed, resuming his dance, a movement that was taking him closer and closer to the club room door. Boss Ryan remained oblivious to the danger, convinced that Noah, weak and drugged, wouldn't be stupid enough to attempt an escape, especially with legs that could barely hold him up.
But Boss Ryan was swiftly proven wrong.
With a final, explosive burst of concentrated energy that belied his drugged state, Noah reached the door, yanked it open with force, and bolted out, running with the desperate speed of someone fighting for their life.
Boss Ryan and the other middle-aged Beta were left speechless, frozen by the audacity of the betrayal. The young Alpha was the first to snap out of it. He yanked at the shirt binding his hands and, in less than a minute, tore the cloth that Noah had painstakingly tied.
"Let's go! What are you two sitting down there for?" he roared.
The three men sprang up and scrambled to chase after their escaped prey.
Noah ran with every ounce of his might, not appearing drugged at all. He wasn't foolish enough to run in a straight path; he weaved through hallways, dodging the main routes. He absolutely avoided the elevator, knowing his pursuers would expect a weakened person to take the easiest route.
He burst into the service stairwell.
The effort of climbing the stairs was agonizing. The exertion caused the drug to metabolize faster, and the heat in his body intensified. He felt a desperate urge to tear off the rest of his clothes and find immediate relief.
He cursed Nick's existence with every frantic step. To maintain his lucidity, he bit down hard on his hand, the sharp pain grounding him, a small anchor against the rising delirium.
He finally emerged from the stairwell into an upper hallway that was significantly more luxurious than the floor he had just fled.
Noah knew he was likely in the realm of presidential suites and VIP accommodation. He wanted to turn back, but the thought of running into the three men on the stairs pushed him forward.
He rounded a corner and saw a well-dressed man standing in front of a slightly ajar door.
This man was speaking to two other respectable-looking, powerful-seeming middle-aged men. "The President is sleeping, please," the well-dressed man said firmly. "Leave. I will escort you." He then forcefully, yet politely, guided the two men toward the elevator and entered with them, leaving the hallway deserted.
Noah was alone. The well-dressed man had not fully closed the door to the presidential suite in his haste. Noah hesitated, not entering the room, but just lingering in the quiet, empty hallway, battling the overwhelming desire to succumb to the drug's effects.
The need to escape became paramount. If he stayed here any longer, he would lose all control. He had to take the elevator and get out of the building.
He walked toward the elevator, passing the partially opened presidential suite door. As he walked past, a colossal, suffocating wave of Alpha pheromones slammed into him.
The scent was so powerful, so intensely masculine, that the already compromised Noah buckled. He fell to his knees, a helpless moan escaping him as he involuntarily began to release the Omega pheromones he had been desperately suppressing.
He fought with every fiber of his being not to crawl into that room, but the struggle was instantly rendered moot. A shadow fell over him, and a powerful hand shot out from the doorway, dragging him inside.
"Please let me go. I was just passing by," Noah gasped as he was hauled into the luxurious space.
He had jumped out of the frying pan and into a raging inferno. The man who dragged him in was devastatingly handsome, impossibly strong, and radiating authority.
Noah knew instinctively this was not a man to cross. He was likely deep into his rut, and Noah, a highly reactive Omega in chemically induced heat, had just stumbled across his threshold.
Even as his mind screamed for release, the drug dictated his actions. Instead of struggling, he clung to the man. At one point, before he was even fully inside the room, his lips were on the man's neck, kissing him desperately. Noah was going insane. He could still think, still recognize the danger, but his body had utterly betrayed his brain.
Then, the man's lips descended on his.
The last of Noah's willpower evaporated. He was exhausted from the fight, from the drugs, and from the terror. He simply let go. He offered no resistance when the man lowered him onto the bed, or when their bodies joined.
Though the initial connection was a searing pain that made Noah feel like he was going to die, he could not, or would not, fight the man's possession any longer.