Almost dreamy, Annette answered, “I am not the greatest fan of him at the moment either. But I do love him, Brenya. I love him so much it hurts. I know he must love me too.”

  It was genuine, even Brenya’s shy smile. “Who could resist loving you?”

  15

  When Jacques appeared before her, he was already dressed. The style of clothes was as strange as any she’d seen, but that was not the reason she stared at the broad shoulders filling his white jacket.

  His long hair was free of the plait, waving and golden around his unfairly handsome face. These were not qualities she would have noticed weeks ago. Just as weeks ago, she would not have looked in the mirror and paid attention to her own features.

  How many times in life had she considered the color of her hair?

  Never. She had never cared that it was light brown, or that her eyes were light brown, or that her skin was light brown. Appearance did not matter; accomplishments did.

  Yet seeing him so beautiful, she felt like a glob of mud beside a statue of gold.

  Annette was decidedly attractive. Even Ancil with his feline features and mean looks had the grace of a prime Alpha. None held a candle to Jacques. No matter the Commodore’s selfishness or abuses of power, he was breathtaking and he knew it.

  And she? She was not.

  Without Annette and her box of paints to make her pretty, there was only so much that could be done. It was up to Jacques, who took great delight in zipping her into a white gown—a dress with fitted lace sleeves, in similar style to his strangely cut jacket, and a skirt so long she would have to be careful not to trip. He even combed her hair back and tapped some color onto her lips with his finger.

  When his work was done, the man looked incredibly pleased with the result of his labor. Brenya just felt ridiculous.

  A string of glittering stones was set about her throat. When it did not elicit a response, Jacques frowned. “These were my mother’s. Before that, my grandmothers. And so on.”

  She had not asked for them, or for the dress, or the paint on her lips, or the butterflies in her stomach. “I have never worn jewelry before.”

  He stroked her cheek. “Only Bernard women wear this necklace.”

  Whatever significance that moment held for him was lost on her, Brenya aware she was doing something wrong. Hand patting the shape of the tangling web, she looked down to see a spangle of light across her breasts. Where the gown was cut low they sat like a beacon, made all the brighter next to her tan skin.

  They were pretty. Far too pretty for her.

  “I don’t fully understand the concept of motherhood or Centrists’ focus on lineage. Annette took such joy in holding and feeding her son. Your mother must have been the same way. I don’t even know the name of the female who birthed me.”

  He ran a finger down her jaw, smirking at her statement. “Would you like to know it?”

  “No. That knowledge has no value to me. It does not define who I am.”

  “Some days, I envy you that, mon chou.” He took the fingers still pressed to his family bauble and drew them to his mouth for a kiss. “There is plenty of time for me to teach you all you need to know. Someday, you too will take joy in holding and feeding our child, but there is no need to rush such things. Under my mother’s early advice, I have been taking contraceptives since… adolescence made use of them wise. When you are ready, I’ll stop. Until then, we’ll enjoy one another.”

  It was such a strange topic to insert into conversation that Brenya scowled, unsure what to make of it. She had not imagined herself in Annette’s position for even a moment, had not considered that someday Jacques might expect her to procreate.

  Years ago she had been notified she was not fit for the breeding banks. She had accepted it, relieved, in fact, that nothing would interfere with her duties. In Beta sector, once an idea was set, it was constant. In Central, things did not work that way. Everything shifted, impermanent and enigmatic.

  “What troubles you? The thought of children or the thought of no children?”

  Neither and both. “I don’t know if it’s appropriate that I wear your mother’s necklace. I am not your mate.”

  Jade eyes grew dark, Jacques’ tone lowering significantly. “You will be.”

  On that point, she felt there was nothing to add. Smoothing her hands over the flowing skirt he’d chosen for her, Brenya asked, “Is there significance in the color of the dress?”

  “You look beautiful in white.”

  Annette’s advice teased her memory, leading Brenya to offer a compliment in return. “I’ve never seen you wear your hair loose outside of…”

  Smirking like the devil, he finished her sentence, “When we play?”

  She could feel a blush creep over her chest and cheeks and could not fathom the why of it. “It looks nice.”

  He had explained to her in detail what to expect. A State dinner was a weekly event, this one particularly important as Bernard Dome had let in its first foreigners since the entry hatch was sealed over a century ago. Ambassador Jules Havel was the guest of honor.

  She was not required to talk to him.

  Brenya was not required to perform in any way. Annette would see to her entertainment while the Alphas conversed. All she need do was sit by his side and enjoy herself.

  Simple enough.

  Except Brenya had come to learn that nothing was simple, or straightforward, or honest in this place.

  After a walk through halls and rooms Brenya had not ventured through before, the couple in white arrived at a set of double doors. Behind those gilded panels a long table waited, set with linen and more silverware, plates, and crystal glasses than necessary for the amount of guests in attendance.

  Alpha males of all adult ages, dressed just as absurdly as the Commodore, talked amongst themselves.

  There were no females in attendance… except Annette, who smiled, and, careful of her tender body, made her way over to kiss Brenya on the cheek. “I’m thrilled to be included. I can’t tell you how good it is to be allowed out of bed!”

  Brenya could not help but agree, her innocent comment drawing the titters of many neighboring men, including a rich laugh from the Alpha at her side.

  Instantly embarrassed, she colored.

  Jacques pressed his smiling lips to her ear. “Come. You sit here beside me. Drink some wine, it will help you relax.”

  Everyone followed the Commodore’s cue, the rustle of chairs and the economic movement of bodies taking their assigned places short-lived. Annette smiled, nearly across from her, but there were two chairs left unclaimed directly before the Commodore and his ‘mate’s’ position.

  One had to be for Ancil, the other for the Ambassador.

  Brenya, as usual in this place, was incorrect.

  The owners of those honored seats arrived moments later, Annette rising to rush beaming toward the door once Security Advisor Ancil Dubois was announced. The gilded wood opened, and the look on the blonde’s face went from ecstatic to heartbroken.

  Another female was on her esteemed husband’s arm. Another woman had all his attention, Ancil so transfixed he walked right past his wife to announce. “We apologize, Commodore, for our tardiness.”

  The apology seemed only a formality, Jacques in the exact same languid position as if all were natural and expected—an elbow on his chair’s carved armrest, an unharried smile on his lips.

  As the couple came forward, so did the scent… an odor Brenya had grown very familiar with in the last weeks.

  Alpha, Omega fluids. Sex.

  The room was oblivious to Annette’s horror, men shouting congratulations, spoons being rung against crystal goblets.

  The black-haired woman, beautiful by every possible measure, smiled at the congratulations. Pushing her pin-straight sheet of hair from her shoulder, she revealed where teeth had punctured, the mark still swollen, for all to see.

  The cheers grew louder.

  When Brenya moved to stand, Jacques put a hand to her thigh. The silent command to remain seated, to leave Annette struck and alone, made the Omega turn her head and glare. “What’s going on?”

  The Commodore replied, “A cause for celebration. The first pair-bond under Bernard Dome since the time of our great-grandfathers. Ancil has claimed his mate.”

  “He has a wife.” A perfect wife who had just given birth to his son.

  “There is more news.” Ancil’s voice rang out, the man waving an arm to silence the room and declare, “We were blessed in our joining. Lucia is with child.”

  A small voice behind them muttered, “No…”

  It was then Ancil deigned to turn his head so he might look at his wife after her negation of his joy. Brenya could not see his expression, but the anguish on Annette’s face mirrored horrific pain.

  Tears were falling over pretty cheeks, Annette hardly able to call out to him, “Ancil?”

  Ancil’s reply was harsh. “Sit.”

  Stumbling toward the table, Annette obeyed, her body moving as if pulled along by marionette strings.

  It was a show for the room, a vast table of Alphas watching with rapt attention as Ancil brought his wife to heel. The blonde was placed at his left, the dark-haired Omega at his right, and in the middle Ancil sat nodding greetings to the nearest male. “Ambassador.”

  “This is wrong.” Silence descended across the room at Brenya’s proclamation. Chest rising and falling, she looked from Annette, to her husband, to the unknown woman who dared to glare back at her. “You have a wife.”

  “And by our marriage contract, signed by said Beta wife, I am also allowed to take a mate should the opportunity arise. All is legal and will stand in court if questioned.” Ancil lowered his chin, dark eyes hostile. “Ask your Commodore if you doubt my claims.”

  Brenya could not stop her tongue or the thundering of her heart. “When Annette signed it, there were no Omegas in Bernard Dome.”

  “Yet she signed the standard contract all the same.”

  “Standard?” Every marriage in Central followed such twisted rules? Were all Alphas just biding their time?

  It was Annette, her eyes downcast to the table before her who whispered, “Brenya, please be quiet.”

  Swallowing, Brenya thought she might be sick. Her eyes went around the table, to the men gawking… all the strangers… and it was she they found fault with, not Ancil and his Omega.

  Under the table, Jacques squeezed her thigh, but made no move to alter his bored expression or say a word on the subject. The only thing he did say was, “Please serve,” to the waiting staff.

  A team of synchronized Betas poured wine, removing the golden cloche before each guest so the first course might be enjoyed.

  It did not look like any kind of food Brenya was accustomed to. It was just one small egg, smeared with sauce atop a lettuce leaf. She hardly noticed it once something much more appetizing twinged her nostrils and caused her head to snap up.

  Not every member of the party had been served the same plate.

  There was a bowl in front of Annette. Inside the china dish something Brenya had asked for and been denied.

  Beta rations—the pharmaceutically laced food that turned a person into a cog. Food that would deaden Annette’s emotions and make her a drone just like Brenya had been.

  When the blonde began to understand what waited before her, her silent tears turned to sobs. And still… still she picked up her spoon.

  “Don’t eat it!” Brenya was half out of her chair, struggling against the weight of Jacques’ grip on her leg. Reaching across the table, she fought and failed to slap the food from Annette’s hands. “Annette, no. Don’t eat it!”

  The golden spoon was shaking before Annette’s parted lips, Ancil turning to snarl at his wife.

  The low threat of his growl was enough to push the woman over the edge. She shoved the poisoned food in her mouth, weeping as she swallowed.

  Frantic, Brenya called out, “Stop!”

  “Annette, it seems your presence is disruptive. Leave the table. The remainder of your meal will be taken in your room.” Ancil waved over a servant, ordering him to gather both the food and his wife at once.

  Orders were obeyed without question. The door opened, Annette rounded away, and when the portal closed, something in Brenya snapped.

  Ancil smirked at her look of hatred. “From now on, Lucia will serve as your companion. Annette will be busy raising my children and have no time for you.”

  Silence cut at her skin, fueling the fire growing behind her eyes.

  Staring down a horrible man, a voice came from Brenya as if born from another person. “As a Beta I labored every day to assure your safety, took on the most dangerous assignments, conducted complex repairs so you would survive. I studied harder, worked longer than any of my peers. I pushed the limits of my mind and body more times than I can remember. Tirelessly, each morning I spoke the same oath everyone under this Dome is trained to recite.

  “It is my sworn duty to protect the Dome and all who live within.

  “I meant those words. I love and would die for the people of Bernard Dome without question. There was cohesion and flawless symmetry amongst my peers. We did not compete or compare.

  “And then I was brought here and I met you. I was told I could not be a Beta anymore, that my training, education, and expertise were no longer necessary. My entire purpose for existing is a joke to you, the Commodore’s disfigured Omega toy.

  “Now I am learning the ways of Central. There is no oath recited upon waking here. You serve yourselves and scheme. You abuse your females. You eat off china plates and drink wine from five different crystal glasses. You’re cruel, and you are selfish.

  “If life in Central is a reflection of humanity before the Red Consumption, I can clearly see why everybody died. I now understand why Domes have failed. It was not due to women like me. It was due to men like you.

  “You are a disease.

  “But ultimately you are powerless. Should catastrophe strike, who would you come running to? You would come running to me. Would I help you? I don’t know anymore. I dislike you more than any person I have met in my life.”

  A snide lip curled, Ancil absently swishing wine in his goblet. “Control your female, Jacques. I don’t believe she’s learned her place.”

  Brenya was far from done. “I will find a way to make you pay for what you’ve done to Annette.”

  Fingers came around her throat, and they were not Ancil’s. Jacques held her in mirror to how he enjoyed restraining her when fucking her face on. Only he was not staring at her in wonderment, but in rage. No words were spoken as he forced her body back, as he squeezed to the point she gasped.

  Bracing for the coming blow, instead Brenya found herself dragged from table, feet catching on the carpet and tangling in her long skirt.

  He’d dragged her somewhere this way once before, and she was soon to learn the outcome would be the same.

  His words were colder than the diamonds cutting into her throat. “Pardon me, gentlemen, lady. I need to have a word with my mate.”

  The door closed, Brenya unsure what room they were in. There was no time to look before he bent her over the back of a couch. It was a marvel how quickly he bunched up her skirt, how violently he tore away the thin scrap of silk covering her sex. She could hardly reach back and try to stop him before he made the noise that would slicken her passage. Then his cock shoved in, Jacques fucking her so hard the couch scratched over the floor with each thrust.

  “You are never to threaten an Alpha! You are never to put yourself in danger that way!”

  Ribs pressed into the sculpted wooden top of the sofa, Brenya could not breathe to reply. She could do nothing but kick her leg in an attempt to brace.

  His invasion was all she knew, every stretch and pull of her cunt distracting until she was caught up and drowning past her horror and grief.

  He’d promised he’d never strike her in anger. This was so much worse.

  “You are never to growl at a male!”

  Had she done that to Ancil, or had she done it to Jacques when he’d taken her throat in his fist? Was she growling at him now? She could not think, could do nothing but claw at the couch.

  “There are laws, Brenya, and he broke none. Do not presume to know better than your leadership. Do not presume to think you know what is best for Annette. Would you have her languish away the rest of her days watching her husband adore another? He has shown her a mercy in this.”

  If it was possible for the Alpha to grow rougher, he did. Rapid jerks of his hips punished her from behind. It was domination, pure and simple, and she could do nothing.

  Meaner still, he reached under her body and began to patiently circle her clit.

  Brenya found that, in fact, she was capable of making a noise. A single cry, the single chirp of a dying bird.

  He compelled her climax and knotted her right there in the antechamber of the dining hall where servants might walk by with trays of food.

  Everything, every grunt, every shout—every last thing he’d done had been heard by those inside.

  When he began to spurt, the male changed tactics to draw out the pleasure he’d forced on her.

  Face twisted up, eyes scrunched close, Brenya tried to shut it out, but she was full of him, unable to escape. In the blink of an eye, he became another person entirely, cooing at her, petting her back, soothing her buttocks with a kneading grip.

  Strong arms came around her sore middle, Jacques gathering her back, pulling her until he’d found a seat and could settle her, joined as they were, facing forward on his lap. At her ear he whispered, “Now calm yourself, mon chou. We will take this time to gather our thoughts before we return to our friends.”

  He was still pulsating in her belly, and she had yet to come down from the high. Should she catch her reflection, her pupils would be blown, her eyes almost completely black.

  As black as the Commodore’s heart. As black as her hate for Ancil.

  Brenya refused to speak, no matter how Jacques cooed of her beauty, how much he claimed to adore her, how it was his duty to keep her safe… even from herself. Staring forward, she felt his hands caress where they would, felt the soft kisses on her neck and under her ear, and fantasized about deconstructing the air filtration in Ancil’s room. It would take her less than five minutes to alter the mechanism so it pumped carbon dioxide over the sleeping Alpha.