One day. All she wanted was one day without some part of his body inside some part of hers.

  Heaven help her if she winced at any of his handling, because that meant a session with the pliarator.

  As if any machine might stretch her enough that his member would ever fit without pain.

  “You will struggle to deliver children, petite as you are,” Jacques had murmured, manipulating the pliarator as she writhed. “It is a pity we will have to scar your beautiful skin to get them out.”

  The idea of baring a child in the Centrist fashion—one that would be exposed to this man—led to a reaction that ignored logic and ended in disaster. Instead of struggling against the pliarator, she lifted a leg and kicked him right in the chest. The machine slipped from her channel, the man was displaced long enough for her to escape that gross puddle and run out of the bed.

  Right into the bathroom.

  Where she locked the door as if that might actually keep him out.

  He ripped it off the hinges, wood splintering as if it took little effort.

  Naked, slimy, cornered, thin arms around her middle, and trying to hide behind her hair, Brenya shrank.

  “You won’t even be awake for the procedure, Brenya. There is no reason to react in such a way. Your penchant for violence and threats is….” He took her arm, dragging her from the room. It was hard to keep up with his stride, her legs still shaking from the pliarator’s effects on her nerves.

  He never finished his statement, spinning her about until the mattress hit her belly and her legs dangled to the floor.

  She heard the clicks and knew what it meant. He was resetting the machine, altering the program, before that horrible thing might find a new home.

  He was going to force it up her ass, a torture he had yet to inflict on her.

  Crying through it all, she bore the burning anal stretch, hiccupping when the Alpha allowed the machine to simulate a knot that must have stretched her until her burning ring was bloodless and white.

  The hands stroking her back and the unwelcome platitudes did nothing to ease even a moment of it. Her suffering was so sharp that Brenya couldn’t even reach out to the dangerous void of Jules Havel.

  Jacques yanked the link far too hard, far too skillfully, and inundated her tattered soul with lust. Battering down her misery, crushing it underfoot so she might experience his victory, he left that mechanical knot in her ass and fucked her cunt any way he pleased.

  There was not enough room for a cock of his size and the pliarator’s girth. Certain he was damaging her beyond repair, Brenya screamed, yet still he rode her. Plucking beaded nipples, flicking a swollen clit, dumping his elation and ecstasy to do such things to her little body through the link until she was washed away and forced into a climax that singed each nerve all the way down to her fingertips.

  It was awful, the greatest pain she had ever known.

  When the pliarator’s cycle was finished and her throat was raw from sobbing, still hard and seated in her sloppy cunt, Jacques removed the thing, showing her the device bore no trace of blood. Chastising her for her lack of trust and overreaction.

  And then he finished what he’d started, thrusting into her cunt until a knot might be set.

  While they were joined, his fingers sought out the tender places he might tease to life, whispering that when she needed correction, double penetration would be her gentle punishment.

  His gift to her.

  For soon, she would be able to take him up her ass and relish his knot there. An act he greatly desired to enjoy with her, and one he was not willing to forgo.

  Not when a few more weeks of practice would see her body prepared.

  Smiling, he swore she would find such pleasure from his knot up her ass that he might reward her with the pliarator in her cunt.

  After all, she had deeply loved it during estrous.

  With practice, it would give her only pleasure. Just as obedience would.

  If she would only behave, he would say, she would learn that all he did was for her pleasure.

  To argue with him, to speak the truth, would only see her stuffed full of that horrible machine a second time. Doing her best to no longer cry, Brenya had wiped her nose, tolerating a knot in a place that felt almost numb from abuse. Staring at nothing, she nodded acquiescence.

  And he was gentle with her afterward.

  That was why there was a soft pillow atop her chair at their shared dinner.

  He tried to chat with her as if another punishment had never happened. Already, he assured her she was utterly forgiven.

  After she had calmed and accepted the endless throbbing soreness of being a female Omega, Brenya was able to slip back into the emotionless space of a Beta who had a Rebecca.

  The Alpha across from her increased the volume of his purr as if pleased at her perusal, and stated for the second time, “I said, you seem unusually hungry.”

  Voice lacking feeling, Brenya agreed. “Yes. I am very hungry.”

  The demeanor of the man before her went from preening to assessing. “Yet you have already eaten enough for a fully grown Alpha.”

  That was true, and her belly did ache for it. But what did that matter? She hurt everywhere anyway.

  Studying her intently, Jacques asked, “Are you in pain?”

  It wasn’t like he couldn’t see the bruises, the bite marks. It wasn’t like he had not been the person to place the pillow she was sitting upon, because her labia and anus were stinging and swollen. So, she didn’t answer. The question had to be a rhetorical one.

  Heavy male fingers trilled over the tabletop, Jacques’s voice terse. “Specifically in regards to your digestion. Are you in pain?”

  Unwilling to engage in the dangerous line of questioning, her fork stabbed noodles and carried them to the waiting spoon so she might spin another bite.

  Bringing his fist under his chin, the Alpha narrowed his eyes and leaned his weight forward. “You are ordered to tell me when you are uncomfortable.”

  He was not going to leave her alone, so Brenya muttered, “I am uncomfortable.”

  Sighing, he threw his weight back in his chair, hand to the air as if beseeching the Gods for help. “Brenya, please try.”

  More pasta was chewed and swallowed, to land in a distended belly that ached with emptiness. “I don’t understand what answer you want me to give you. You know I am in pain. You are the one who hurt me.”

  Snarl on his lips, Jacques barked, “You wish to discuss what happened earlier? A lesson took place, Brenya. The harder I fuck you, the closer you grow to accepting your place as my mate. When I am gentle, you are restless, lying under me with your eyes closed and your body limp. When I am rough, you engage.”

  “You want me to fight back, because I no longer say no when you mount me?” There were so many flaws in that statement, so much ugliness to it, that her stomach roiled, and all the noodles were about to come up.

  “You don’t touch me, mon chou.”

  That was untrue! “I stimulate your erection with my hands in the exact way you taught me to. I use my mouth and tongue to fulfill the commands given as you move my head. I swallow.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Jacques’s sneer was replaced with a smirk. “What if I were to organize an event where you could watch an Alpha and Omega mate properly? Is that what you need to see to understand you are more to me than the pretty pussy I knot? Your place is in the moment, seeking pleasure from your mate instead of tolerating.”

  The thought turned her overstuffed stomach to such a point she refused to think about it at all. Reaching for something else to discuss, Brenya asked a reasonable question. “At lunch, your coat had exactly twenty-four buttons. Now, you wear a coat with seven. Why are you wearing a different coat?”

  Why did Centrist do anything the way they did?

  The male sighed. “Because it is dinner, Brenya. And that’s how things are done.”

  And of course, that made no sense to her. “And if I touch you when you mount me, you’ll make it hurt less? Because that is how things are done?”

  The man looked as if her words cut him, as if she were the one causing him pain. “You are tormenting me with your indifference.”

  The Alpha had no idea what torment might be. But each day, Brenya grew more certain Jules Havel—empty, vacant, and horribly controlled—knew exactly what suffering was.

  That he starved.

  Because she starved no matter how much food she ate, and it was growing worse by the hour.

  And she had finally figured it out.

  Under his endless, vast black lake of nothing, Brenya felt the oddest stirring that the Beta was preparing to inflict his revenge for all that had been done to him. On Jacques, on her, on all of her people.

  Unless she could change his mind.

  Eyes darting back to the golden cutlery, Brenya prepared another bite.

  12

  Considering the subject matter, a straightforward approach would serve better than manipulation. After all, the Commodore had tried the simplicity of allowing things to run their course, offering dignity to a man who deserved none. It would have been a simple thing for Jules Havel to eat his meals, the Beta mellowing after digesting the proper dosage for a male of his size and strength. The secondary buffer—beyond the joint pair-bond—necessary.

  The entire fate of Bernard Dome was at stake—not to mention the safety of Jacques’s precious mate.

  And though he would prefer the ease of simply killing the man, Jules needed to be alive and well to serve his function. Protecting Brenya, and therefore all of his people, from Chancellor Shepherd’s threat of unleashing the virus.

  But these exchanges were growing tiresome.

  Or, lack of exchange, more accurately.

  With Brenya back in their nest, knowing she slept fitfully without him, Jacques had rushed dressing to confront a burden, grabbing a midday coat instead of an evening jacket. The enlightening dinner he just shared with his mate changed everything regarding forward momentum in retaining her happiness.

  It made Jacques leave the peace of his bed to deal with a fiend where they would not be overheard by a sweetly chiming Omega soul.

  Entering the viewing area outside the cell of his caged rabid dog, Jacques adjusted his cuff. The male within undeserving of his full attention, considering his behavior. “Ambassador Havel, did you know there are no prisons in Bernard Dome? Until your arrival, they were unnecessary.”

  The man behind the clear amorphous metal did not so much as turn his head to acknowledge the Commodore paid him yet another personal visit.

  Jules Havel, mercenary and madman, simply sat on the floor and stared at the bleak, gray wall before him. His behavior predictable, boring even.

  With patience, Jacques explained, “I ordered this installation converted the night I agreed to Chancellor Shepherd’s trade. Previously, this storage room was stocked with racks of aging red wines. As you must have noticed, Ambassador, the walls are solid—a meter of cement to maintain the optimum temperature with little intervention of electricity. Unfortunately, there is no plumbing, hence the bucket. A short-term solution should a complicated situation arise.”

  And a complication had arisen, Jacques grateful for his foresight. Which was why he was Commodore and all who contested his rule were dead.

  “Ambassador Havel, this was never intended to be your long-term home.” Yet it had been the perfect kennel for a foreign threat. “Merely a place of transition and transformation. Yet it seems you wish to stay.”

  The cuff of Jacques’s fresh shirt was properly adjusted, the Alpha moving to correct the other sleeve. “You see, in Bernard Dome, on the rare occurrence of criminal behavior, the instigator is instantly euthanized—a humane process that has worked for centuries and led to a peaceful population. My city, it is a treasure of culture and refinement in this empty world. The perfect civilization: ordered, organized, maintained, and cultivated. Paradise at the price of a steady decline in the Omega population… until there were none to be found. Being Beta, you cannot imagine what it is like to be an Alpha missing his other half and living in a world where it will never appear.”

  Just like every other encounter the males shared since they both fucked an estrous-high Brenya Perin into the perfection of a three-way pair-bond, Jules Havel still refused to acknowledge his presence.

  But that did not matter. The ancient fables were correct, and the Beta was fully bound.

  “Brenya was in a room similar to this one for days after an accident almost took her from me forever. Previously a janitor of sorts, my precious girl fell down the side of the Dome and shattered her helmet. After being exposed to unfavorable conditions, she needed to be quarantined for several days. That is why the wound on her face healed so poorly. She had no medical care or access to Beta pharmaceuticals. I love that scar, the perfect reminder of the miracle that brought my Omega to me. It is a symbol of what must be done to weed out females who might potentially find their own miracle in monitored seclusion. Fifteen more Omegas have been discovered with this method in the last seven days. A percentage of the population that will bring hope to so many. Discovering such a prize has freed me from any further association with Greth Dome, Chancellor Shepherd, or unenlightened foreigners.”

  Sleeves perfected, Jacques finally ran his attention over the silent Beta and let out a sigh. “You have been given a great gift despite your threats to my people. Freedom from the tyranny of your past, an opportunity to contribute to greatness. A greater gift still in knowing a bond with a pure-hearted Omega. Brenya is goodness itself. Considering the taboo even in mythology, not one in a billion Betas has ever known such a thing.”

  At last, Jules, brown hair falling over blue eyes of unnatural brightness, deigned to turn his head.

  Progress. So, Jacques got to the point. “You are making her sick by refusing to eat.”

  His prisoner did not so much as blink. He just stared in the eerie way of the dangerous and the evil.

  “I have been reasonable with you, Jules Havel. I invited you into my home, extending goodwill. Furthermore, I have kept to Chancellor Shepherd's request that Bernard Dome not interfere with Thólos.” As if Jacques would waste his people’s resources on a failed civilization that had birthed the very men who had turned and eaten it.

  No intonation, no apparent interest in negotiation, Jules replied, “I won’t swallow anything that I have not seen Brenya Perin taste first.”

  With a scoff, Jacques offered a dangerous grin. “I will not expose my mate to you.”

  Those piercing eyes burned, saying in their unwavering stare that Jacques had fully exposed the female to him. That there was no part of her that he had not seen, no sexual act that had not been performed before him. That he had fucked her too. “Continue to attempt to feed me Beta rations, and she won’t be your mate for much longer.”

  Enough of this.

  “I saw the way you looked at her at the state dinner and on your ship. Your eyes follow everywhere she goes.” Jacques’s nostrils flared, his ire rising at the audacity of the cretin who had nothing to barter with. “How you salivated watching me claim the female who is mine. You even have my sympathy. One glance and I wanted the strange girl too. Yet, I allowed you to taste her once... so she could be safe from you forever. You will not enjoy her again. That will be your burden in exchange for your survival.”

  Jules turned his gaze upward, as if he knew right where she slept several floors above, drinking her down in all her glory. “The Omega told me why she stole my ship. Candid to a fault in her desperation to be free of you. I felt her grief to wake bonded to a male who disgusts her. Ever since, she has been calling to me, seeking me out, unknowing how much control I could exert over her with a snap of my fingers. The female gets a little closer every day. A little more trusting. Imagine what I might do to her once it’s too late to retreat.”

  The pure evil of Jules’s grin, the way those piercing eyes burned, Jacques wanted nothing more than to kill the dog and be done with it. Hating that he couldn’t… just yet. “I will have you sedated and fitted with a feeding tube.”

  Piercing blue eyes returned to the commodore. “You can try.”

  The Beta had not eaten in five days, was no doubt weak from starvation, and very much in need of a serious beating. One Jacques could not administer without causing further distress to his mate, now that he understood her bond to the Beta was just as weighty as her bond to him. A minor annoyance that would be handled soon enough. “Consider it done.”

  Unfolding in a graceful, sinuous motion, the Beta stalked to the glass between them. “I can tell by the fact that you stand this close to the glass that you truly have no idea of who I am or what I am capable of. The Omega is uncomfortable, because your botched attempts to poison me have failed, yet she eats. She sleeps. You are whining over an inconvenience to a woman who will hate you either way. And you are coming to terms with the fact that this situation did not unfold as you expected. The greatest mistake you have ever made, Jacques Bernard, was tempting me with a taste of her. Brenya Perin could have been safe from me. Now, I will see that you suffer more than you might imagine.”

  Something about the trapped Beta’s threat unsettled Jacques deeply—the honesty that rang through the tiny sliver of the man he could feel. The dead-eyed stare. “Let’s not waste time with empty threats. I could make your life here one of luxury. It is in Brenya’s best interest that I do so. As an act of good faith, I have let you watch me fuck her. What if I were also to have her used clothing sent to your cell so you can smell sweet slick? A skilled Beta female can be provided for you to mount, one who can simulate the experience. I am only asking that you eat and end this charade. I cannot let you starve to death any more than I can let you walk free as you are. I will even offer you another gift.”

  The projection altered again to show an Omega at her most vulnerable. One too small to be pumped full of Alpha cock with such roughness.

  “Right there.” Jacques waves a hand, pausing the display at the exact moment Brenya’s lips parted on a sigh. “Right there is where she gave in.”