He would die weak and gasping.

  When the knot began to subside, Jacques reached for a swath of lace laying over the polished mahogany table at his elbow. He brought it between her spread legs, using that delicate thing to mop up the rush of fluid at his retreat, dabbing at her sore labia before tossing it aside as if it were disposable.

  Exactly how Ancil had tossed Annette away.

  Jacques drew her to stand, bending down to right her skirts and make sure all signs of their coupling were covered. Yet she reeked of him, of Alpha musk, and of her failures. Her torn undergarments were gathered from the floor and stuffed in his pocket.

  When Jacques took her face in his hands and turned it to look down upon her, her eyes spurned his.

  He spoke anyway. “I accept that you will most likely refuse to speak to me for the remainder of the evening. But we will speak on this later. You think to play at games you do not understand, and must learn such things can be deadly.” He dared to press a lingering kiss to her slack lips. “I know you’re angry, but you took your punishment well. I suggest you do not put me in the position of having to do it again.”

  Taking her elbow, he led her back into the dining hall, pulled out her chair before all the staring faces, and sat her down. They had missed a course, and she had yet to eat, but when the soup arrived Brenya continued to stare forward at nothing, prompting Jacques to lean over and warn her. “Eat.”

  It was mechanical, spoon to mouth, tasteless cold green sludge sliding down her throat. Several more courses arrived, talk around the table having picked up as if nothing had happened. If Ancil was staring at her and gloating, she did not see. If he was fawning over his new, pregnant mate, she never knew. Her eyes were boring a hole into the wall.

  It was the only way to keep from breaking things.

  16

  When dinner ended, there was still more entertainment to be had—more guests set to join the festivities. Jacques stood to announce, “In the adjacent room companions of the female and Omega variety await our attention,” to the raucous applause of the room.

  The Commodore grinned, offering his hand to the brooding Omega so they might make their way into the adjacent chamber. “Your place is at my side, Brenya.”

  Her place.

  Looking at his outstretched palm, did not move her to take it. She could not bring herself to raise her fingers and obey. It was not an act of rebellion; it was the effect of finally comprehending that she was more a slave than even what Ancil intended to fashion Annette into.

  Because she could feel, and it was awful.

  Jacques wanted to take her to the room he’d punished her in. In that room that smelled of her slick, his come, and the lingering cloud of aggression and anger, she was to stand by his side and submit.

  “I can’t move.” Her words were small, a speck of dust in the air.

  He took mercy on her, reaching for her elbow to help her stand. When the female was on her feet, he swiped her nearest untouched glass, and held the dessert course’s sweet white wine to her lips. “Drink. It will help.”

  Gulping gracelessly, she swallowed every last drop. She even stood still as Jacques leaned down to kiss a renegade dribble from her chin, her disgust only betrayed by the closing of her eyes and rapid rate of her breath when he drew near.

  “I didn’t hurt you, mon chou. Your reaction is a bit extreme. Don’t you think?”

  She could not dissect the tone of the lips at her ear—if he was warning her, if he was offering comfort, she could not tell. All she could do was dip her chin and hope he’d leave her be.

  “Why do I get the sense that your nod is the first time you’ve lied to me?” Impatience made his voice far less beautiful. “Open your eyes. Look at me and tell me why you’re shaking.”

  Lashes parted, Brenya vaguely aware that the other males had already gone ahead. She looked into eyes the color of envy and muttered the honest truth in her heart. “You’re a monster.”

  A long, agitated sigh came from the Alpha. Eyeing her, he offered a condescending bow. “Truer words have never been spoken.”

  And then he left her there, rejoining his guests with a smile painted on his face as if he were king of the world.

  Brenya supposed he was.

  Unsure what to do with herself, she wandered as far from the party as the dining room would allow. Positioned beside a grand window overlooking the architectural splendor of Central, she looked down at the city she had dedicated her life to, and did not recognize it at all.

  “Those are the Bernard family diamonds. I have not seen them grace the neck of a woman since Jacques’ mother wore them.” It was meant to be a compliment, Brenya could tell by the kind tone of the elderly Alpha who’d approached. That did not mean it was welcome.

  Exhausted, she spoke to the view. “He said as much.”

  Rheumy eyes looked over her profile, lingering on her scar. “He never dressed his tarts in something of such value, dear girl. The statement in having you wear them now is… interesting. Just what do you suppose he is trying to say?”

  Turning her back to the window, arms limp at her side, Brenya found more than the old Alpha had crossed the room to speak with her. Beside him stood an unsmiling Beta. There was a lifelessness in the stranger’s expression that mirrored exactly the way she wished she felt.

  Empty instead of wretched.

  “You must be Ambassador Jules Havel.”

  “I am.”

  She had no idea what to say to him, no idea what she was doing. “Did you enjoy your dinner?”

  He blinked, abrupt in his answer. “No.”

  Whatever they wanted, whatever reason they had for breaking from the party and coming to her, Brenya didn’t care. All she desired was to be left alone. “Neither did I.”

  The old man had more to say. “It would be unwise for you to remain in here by yourself. You have not been bonded yet and the men are drinking and enamored with their company. They are distracted.”

  Distracted? Stealing a glance in the direction of the open doors, Brenya found several of the available Omegas lingering near Jacques, laughing as he spoke. One was even touching his arm. She was a beauty on rival with Annette: icy hair, flawless skin, eyes as blue and clear as the sky.

  Standing side by side they were a matched set. How many weeks before that lovely Omega was wearing the diamonds?

  Inevitability stared her in the face. “You’re right. I should leave.”

  It seemed rude to say such a thing before the Ambassador, but the old man did not hesitate. “You’re missing my point, Miss Brenya Perin. Those Omegas did not come all this way to be mated to mid-level bureaucrats. Go in there and remind them who is wearing the Bernard jewels.”

  Her time in Central had taught her one thing, the old man would not be making such a suggestion unless the potential action benefited him in some way. In what way, she could not say. She didn’t comprehend any of the plots and schemes everyone here lived and breathed.

  Her attention went back to the Beta, the limpid blue of his eyes a bit jarring. Her motivation for attempted polite conversation was halted by that look, and she was relieved that they might stand still and be silent.

  Until he ruined it by speaking in an accent as ugly as hers. “You should leave.”

  Heart heavy, she turned back to the view and sighed. “I don’t know how to get out.”

  “Brenya!” Jacques called, the sound of his footsteps crossing the room like soft thunder. “Come.”

  He was smiling when she glanced his way, but his eyes were malicious as he looked upon the men standing near her.

  Once upon their group, the Commodore immediately put an arm around Brenya’s waist and pulled her flush to his side. “Come away from them now and return to your monster. I find myself greedy for your attention.”

  He was purring loudly, so loud it seemed almost inappropriate. The sound coupled with the wine in her veins led her to beg, “Please, Jacques, I’d like to go to bed.”

  Twisting her words with a devilish smirk, Jacques teased. “I’d be a fool to resist such an offer.”

  The old man dared to laugh. The Ambassador did not.

  He carried her from the party in his arms, despite her yelp when he’d gone to swoop her up. On one hand, she’d hated it, embarrassed he made such a show of their departure for the group to chuckle at. On the other, it had given her a way to avoid conversation or contact with anyone else. Fingers toying with the lapel of his jacket, she’d kept her eyes on Jacques’ chest and off the room where he’d shamed her over the back of a couch.

  She’d even held her breath so she would not have to smell a thing.

  When they were in the halls, she closed her eyes and settled against his body, certain asking him to put her down would have been pointless.

  Jacques kept his silence all the way to his rooms. When they were at the bed, he lay her down with a grin.

  “My poor Omega. She had a terrible night and hates me.” Jacques took off her shoes and kissed the tip of her toes, kneading Brenya’s feet as he teased, “What would make her feel better?”

  Brenya reached for one of the larger pillows, her favorite one, and pulled it to her body as if she might curl around it and forget. “You said I didn’t have to talk to you.”

  He nipped her toe, earning a squeal, before lowering himself over her body. “I know what you’d like.”

  She wanted out of the constrictive dress. She wanted the jagged necklace off her skin. But to say so would be used as an excuse by the male to have his way with her.

  Which he was going to do either way.

  It was more than the weight of the Alpha hovering over her, a heavy burden sat on her chest. Eyes closed tight, she sighed into the pillow. “I’d like Annette to be happy.”

  “And she will be.” He was playful for a monster, kissing and biting his way up her body. “It is my duty to see that all under the Dome have purpose. Annette will find hers in raising Ancil’s children. She will find it in service as a Beta beyond the title of first wife.”

  “You mean Lucia’s children.”

  “The eldest and heir is hers. The law is clear on that, Lucia’s progeny will always be second. It will be the same for the other wives when they too are replaced. The contracted lineage is protected in case a mate is found after marriage.”

  “You have reduced her to something disposable.” Trying to turn under him and give him her back, Brenya grumbled, “And the other wives, will they be made into mindless servants? Will they be discarded and abused?”

  “That is up to their husbands.” Jacques grumbled at her lack of response to his games, turning her body where he would. Like a child denied a toy he barked, “I do not like you sullen, mon chou. Loving me can be very easy.”

  Mumbling into the pillow, Brenya rejected the idea. “No.”

  “What did you say to me?”

  Eyes open, emboldened by how much anger was in her heart, Brenya turned to face him so he might hear clearly. “I said no.”

  The immediate stink of Alpha anger singed her nostrils, Jacques glaring down, his lips tight and eyes hard. Long moments passed while he studied her face, the sounds of the bones in his fingers popping when he made a fist.

  It looked as if his every muscle swelled. “You are not the only Omega in Bernard Dome, Brenya.”

  And there were nine unmated, beautiful women ready to laugh and play his games. “I’ve seen what you do to women who are inconvenient, what you did to your friend—the public shaming. The display. First Annette, then me. I do not doubt you will do it to the other Omegas too.”

  He went from fuming to furious. “You know I can make you like anything I choose to do to you. I can make you cry out for me on my whim. I own this body of yours, heart and soul. You’re mine no matter your refusal or tonight’s paltry rebellion. I can do things to you in the dark that, come morning, will leave you smiling and humming in my arms.”

  He was going to hurt her for saying what she would, might even have her terminated that night. It didn’t matter; resentment had control of her tongue. “Like bend me over a couch and rape me while your awful friends listen?”

  “You came. There was no blood, I checked.” He reared back to his knees, large and looming, every vein in his neck standing out as he growled, “More importantly, ignorant Omega, the lesson was one you should take to heart. I’d rather abuse you, as you put it, than give any of those males cause to see to your demise. Every player at court is dangerous. If I don’t correct you, they will. If I fail to mark you as mine, one of them will take you. Ancil was the greatest contender, now he has his own mate to protect. I may no longer have to worry about him salivating over you, but he is the last Alpha under the Dome you want as an enemy.”

  His explanation did nothing to cool her temper, in fact, it drove her to grind her teeth. “I didn’t say abused, I said raped.”

  Jacques slammed a fist into the mattress, snarling, “I demand you forgive me this instant!”

  “NO!”

  There was a deafening roar of a monster pushed too far.

  Self-preservation broke through Brenya’s rage. She stilled, watching the threat stare down at her as if ready to snap her neck.

  When the man grew instantly, unnervingly composed, when he smiled as if formulating something truly terrible, she was already shaking her head no and trying to scramble away.

  “Brenya…” In a flash he had her wrists in a careful grasp, rubbing his thumbs in soft circles over vulnerable flesh. “Brenya, where are you going?”

  Refusing to answer, she faced the predator and lay as still as stone.

  He set one of her hands free, collecting the fingers of the other to rub one by one. Next he turned her palm upward, his thumbs kneading the flesh. Her wrist, forearm, elbow all received attention. When his grip made it to her shoulder, Brenya swallowed, sure her neck was next.

  Would he look her in the eye as he broke it? Or would it be a slow strangulation?

  Menacing fingertips trailed over diamond covered collarbones, moving to the opposite shoulder. He treated the second arm as the first, gently working stiff muscle groups, holding her gaze with misleading, soft eyes.

  Warm palms engulfed her rib cage, smoothing downward over flank and hip. Over her skirt he kneaded a thigh, taking ages to feel out all tension and reflexively command it away. The lightest of purrs colored the air, the male inhaling deep and slow as he watched her, until Brenya too was mirroring his breath.

  Over many long minutes, antagonism drained into the mattress, the hypnotic power of his purr, the slow moving touch of his hands instilling an inescapable physical response. Her eyes grew heavy, so heavy she could hardly keep them open. She was already fading into dreamland when he slowly turned her body over.

  The soft grate of the zipper was ignored under the weight of his purr. She even groaned into the pillow when those warm hands began to work on her uncovered back.

  It was many hours before she woke to find herself naked, tucked into bed, the Bernard diamonds still strung around her throat. There was no Alpha body warming hers. But he was there, watching her from his chair, Jacques’ jade eyes aglow in the dark.

  17

  Greth Dome

  * * *

  He had promised her a new world, but standing in it felt strange. Where Thólos, in its glory, had been cramped concrete and crowds, there was little of that in her life anymore. Greth was built to mirror nature, rocks, growing things, water—all amidst civilization.

  But she avoided Followers. She avoided the city below.

  Though Shepherd had not voiced it, Claire knew he would rather keep her separate from his men—too many Alphas coming and going. Twice she had tried to walk outside her rooms, to see if she could do it. The first time she had hardly crossed the threshold, unable to move further. The second time she walked to the palace grounds. Shepherd had been at a distance, working with his men. He was her goal, her first test of herself in ages.

  Those silver eyes had watched her every step, her mate having been notified of her approach. When he’d gone still, so had the rest of them—as if they were all infected somehow by her being there. Those first steps ended right past the carved wood doors that separated living quarters from bureaucracy. Claire had frozen, actually immobile, and could not move forward or back. There was some weird limbo, a feeling of wobbling in her belly.

  It had been a beautiful day, one of the first in spring. It had also been the second day since she had secretly stopped taking all her medication.

  Anxiety was an old ghost, but in those moments—on that first solid try—the ghost had become the devil himself, and Claire could hardly hear over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. Unsure of the expression on her face, all she could think was that it had to be bad for Shepherd to have made his way to her so quickly.

  “Have you come here to see me, little one? There was no need for you to leave the nest to do so. I could have been contacted.” Shepherd’s large hand closed over her shoulder, the man frowning because she had unknowingly wandered out in only her nightclothes and robe. “I will return you to our home.”

  “I don’t want to go there.” But he was already herding her away from the inner workings of his order, shuffling her toward a high walled segment of the palace grounds very few would dare to enter.

  “Why? Are you displeased with our home?”

  Swallowing, Claire felt her legs move because he moved her. “No, Shepherd. It is a beautiful home.” And it was; it was lovely.

  “Then why would you come here, little one? Are you lonely, do you require companionship?”

  No, she did not want companions. “I don’t need a babysitter, Shepherd. I just wanted to take a walk.”