Sherlock Holmes reclined against the rich crimson velvet of the upholstered chair where he was seated. He glanced around, sniffing in derision at the opulence of his surroundings. He'd much rather be experimenting than gazing annoyed around him at the beautifully decorated room. He'd already deduced every possible detail in the many times he'd been in his exact same spot.

The space itself was large, built to accommodate many people. The size of it allowed for a huge sunken circle in the middle of the room, ten feet deeper than the seating area he currently occupied. There were golden gilded chairs on the upper level and luxury draperies hung from ivory pillars in a large circle around the room. The entire place was decorated with rich fabrics in deep purples, bright crimsons and ivory sheers. Above the middle of the space, there was no roof, allowing a gentle breeze to enter and for the light of the full moon to shine on the area. The only artificial light came from lanterns in the bottom of the circle, dimly illuminating the space up from the bottom. The floors were cold, white marble, and large stuffed pillows, upholstered in the same fabrics as the drapes, were strewn about the area, both along the top seats, and down in the lower portion of the room.

Sherlock glanced around, his keen vampiric eyes catching everything, not needing the assistance of the lamps, though a human would find the area too dim for much detail to be apparent. His lip curled in disgust at the display before him. All around the room, along the upper circle of seating, his vampire brethren were laying across chairs and the floor and each other. Some were feasting still, drinking blood either from each other or from golden goblets; others had moved on to fornication.

He hated that he had to attend these gatherings. They were held once each year, on the first full moon of winter. He detested the lack of control that was exhibited by his peers, the animal-like urges that overcame them. Not that he hadn't delighted in the flesh in the past, but he had never been overcome by his biological urges. Never had he hungered for a woman so much that he'd lost his rationality. For that was the purpose of this festival.

Each year, young omega women were brought before the unbonded alpha vampires. Some cruel trick of biology dictated that all the omegas would be in heat on that one particular night, so every year, the young women who had come of age were taken from their homes and paraded in front of the ravenous alphas.

The rules were simple: If an unbonded alpha vampire saw, or smelled, an omega who appealed to them, he would step down from the dais into the arena where the omegas were lined up. If more than one alpha wanted a particular omega, they fought for her, the winner being the one who mated her first. Sometimes the fights ended in death, other times, the defeated alpha simply walked away. Sherlock made quite a bit of money in the betting pools over which alpha would triumph in these confrontations. He was so good at reading people that in the past few years he'd been banned from participating in the gambling so he didn't even have that to look forward to tonight. As the omegas were claimed, bonded couples and uninterested alphas and vampire omegas would watch from their seats above the chaos, feeding on and engaging in relations with each other.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his brother who sat across the room with his omega, Anthea, draped across his lap. Mycroft forced his younger brother to attend each year, not only because it was his duty (being the younger son didn't mean he could shake the responsibilities of the royal line,) but because he was convinced that one day an omega would catch Sherlock's eye. Mycroft smiled coldly at Sherlock, his eyes glinting in the dimness of the room, before turning his attention back to his mate.

Looking to his left, he met the eyes of the one person in the room he'd rather avoid. James Moriarty smirked at Sherlock, mock saluting him from his position in a large chair, with several female vampires flitting around him. Sherlock hated the man more than he could put into words. Moriarty was always trying to engage Sherlock in a battle of wits in a misguided attempt to prove who was the more intelligent of the two. Sherlock readily admitted that Moriarty was brilliant, but he was also twisted and cruel, treating his household horribly and using others for his own personal gain. Sherlock was disgusted by him. He was a notorious womanizer as well and, though Sherlock was by no means pure as the snow, he was particularly diverse in his engagements. There were whispers that he was behind the disappearances of several human females over the past years.

Sherlock turned away from Moriarty and shook off the dark gaze of his enemy, promptly forgetting he was there.

He glanced to his right, where his best friend, John, was laid out on the floor with his own mate, the cold not bothering their overheated bodies. John had been his staunch advocate in evading the yearly event for many years until he found his own omega, Mary, during a festival over seventy years ago. Sherlock remembered seeing the light of reason leave his friends eyes when he smelled his mate, and shuddered, his brow furrowing. Not that he objected to Mary; she was intelligent and thoroughly approved of her mate's association with Sherlock. He admitted, it could've been much worse. But Sherlock valued his mind and was bothered that something as simple as a compatible biological makeup could make even the sanest person lose all rational thought.

He shook his head. It would never happen to him. He was sure of it. Sherlock leaned back in his chair, ignoring those around him, and waited for midnight to come and the main event to begin.

Molly Hooper stood barefoot in the middle of the small stone room, silently awaiting her fate.

She fingered the soft material of her ivory gown. It was soft and the feel of it under her hands soothed her battered nerves. It reached to the floor and would have been quite modest had it not been of a sheer, silky material that left nothing to the imagination. The only color on her body, besides her flushed skin, was a crimson ribbon tied at her waist to hold the gown to her body. The other girls were dressed in crimsons and purples, the bright colors attracting attention and bothering Molly. She was the only one who had opted for more simple attire.

The beta maids had been preparing her, as well as the other omega girls, all day. Her overheated body been bathed with care in the cool water, her skin rubbed with an unscented lotion that made it incredibly soft and smooth. Her pale skin was almost translucent in the moonlight that came in through the window, giving her an ethereal beauty, and her large brown eyes were almost black in the dim light of the room. She was small, almost elfin in her features, but she was more lean than skinny. Subtle muscles rippled under her skin as she stroked the material of the gown against her thigh. Unlike the other girls, who had the maids fix their hair with complicated braids and twists, Molly's long, wavy, brown locks hung loose across her shoulders.

She looked around at the other girls, most of whom were talking excitedly amongst each other. It was considered an honor to be taken for the festival, as it meant that, if chosen, they would be turned and taken to live in one of the castles that were home to the vampire clans.

Molly wasn't so thrilled.

At twenty-four years old, she was several years older than most of the girls, who averaged about eighteen. She was also more educated than any of them, her father having allowed her to study well beyond age twelve, which was where the majority of the other girls had finished their formal education, moving onto such boring subjects as how to run a household and social etiquette. Molly was bored to tears by the normal pursuits of young women, preferring to spend hours poring over textbooks of every type, from ancient literature to biology. She was highly intelligent, speaking several languages and having a knowledge of anatomy rivaled only by the town's doctor.

Molly's omega biology had shown itself later than was normal, so she had hope for many years that she was a beta. When her first heat took her, she'd raged and cried, knowing that her life as she knew it was most likely over.

Now, as midnight approached, she squared her shoulders and attempted to ignore the wetness between her legs and the heat of her body, though it was becoming more and more difficult. She still had a small hope that she'd be passed over and allowed to return to her home, but she was determined that no matter what happened, she would have a say in her future.

Sherlock rolled his eyes as the room stilled. The pompous old windbag of a servant was announcing the imminent entry of the omegas.

He drummed his fingers against his thigh as the line of girls were led into the sunken arena. His eyes flitted across the brightly colored gowns, selected to grab the attention of the eager alphas.

Boring, boring, boring.

He dismissed each of them until he got to the ninth, and last, in line. His gaze landed on her simple ivory dress, obviously not chosen for the effect it might have on a potential suitor. She was naked beneath it; he could see the hardness of her nipples as they rubbed against the soft material and he felt his cock start to harden as he stared at her. She kept her head down, staring intently at the floor, and he couldn't see her face through the veil of her unbound hair.

Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, leaning forward slightly, as the most delicious scent hit his nose. He inhaled deeply, savoring the notes of vanilla, lemon and cinnamon. His eyes widened as he realized that the wonderful aroma was rising from the tiny omega he had noticed a moment before.

A movement to his left caught his attention and he turned, his eyes narrowing, to see James had stood up from his seat and was gazing hungrily down into the circle. Sherlock followed his line of sight and his jaw clenched when he realized that James was watching the same omega Sherlock had been drawn to.

He smirked. The irony was not lost on him. Moriarty was always saying that he and Sherlock were the same. Of course they would want the same woman.

Sherlock's eyes were hard as he looked back down at the petite omega that had suddenly become the object of desire for not one, but two alphas, and two of the strongest and most influential at that. Sherlock was of the royal line, his father had been their ruler of the vampire clans and the title was passed to his annoying older brother when he was killed, years ago. Moriarty was from an even older, if not quite as influential, line.

He leaned forward, his elbows perched on his thighs and his hands coming up to steeple in front of his lips, as he studied the girl, who hadn't yet looked up from her scrutiny of the marble floor. He admired her body, his mind conjuring up depraved thoughts of what he could do to her. Never had he felt such base desire.

The servant who had announced the arrival of the omegas was down in the circle with them, introducing them one at a time and telling a bit about each girl, such as their age and interests. Not that it really mattered, in the end the biology was what determined interest in the girls, but it made the whole affair seem a bit more civil, so it was always done this way.

"Tell them your name, little one," the announcer said, as he came to a stop in front of the last girl.

Sherlock caught his breath as her head finally came up, her chin set defiantly, and her clear voice rang out. His eyes darkened as he took in her face. She was beautiful in an understated way, more pure than the flashy beauty of his former paramour, Irene.

"Molly. My name is Molly Hooper."

The man continued describing the omega, highlighting her intelligence and Sherlock was impressed. He was glad he would not be saddled with an idiot, no matter the chemistry between them. Speaking of chemistry, he was sure that she would be brilliant helping him with his experiments.

Her eyes flitted around the room as if she was searching for something, until they landed on Sherlock. As soon as she made eye contact with him, her eyes widened and she visibly gulped. Sherlock took a primal pleasure in causing that reaction and grinned wickedly at her. He heard a low growl from his left and looked out of the corner of his eye to see Moriarty looking back and forth between him and the omega girl with his fists clenched and his eyes black with rage.

Oh this should be interesting.

Molly inhaled deeply, savoring the smell coming from the handsome vampire above her. He smelled of leather and books and the woods just after a rain. In short, he smelled divine. She clamped her thighs together at the rush of wetness that accompanied her arousal. She looked up at the alpha and was rewarded with the sight of his pupils expanding and his hands tightening on the arms of the chair he was in. He stood slowly, leaning slightly towards her, his eyes dark with arousal. He was dressed all in black and it was too dark for her to see clearly, but she was sure that his cock was straining against his trousers and that thought made her shiver in anticipation.

Suddenly, Molly's nose crinkled as another odor hit her. She almost took a step back before remembering she'd been told not to move. Her brow furrowed and she glanced around, looking for the source of the smell. She found it, near the alpha she so desired. Another man stood staring at her, his eyes black with desire, and she cringed involuntarily. He smelled of sulfur and burnt flesh. Her eyes widened in fear as he smiled coldly down at her, his eyes raking her body. She felt the urge to cover herself and was only able to hold her ground through a monumental effort. She narrowed her eyes at the man and felt another stab of fear when he smirked, glancing at the alpha she desired and then back at her and shaking his head.

Sherlock ground his teeth together at Molly's obvious fear of Moriarty. He knew that he would be fighting for the omega and it took effort not to throw himself at his rival right then.

His brilliant mind began reviewing strategies to defeat his enemy as he ticked down the seconds until he could jump down into the pit and claim the small woman for his own.