The pretty things speckled shelves and table tops, and I touched all of them. Dug through drawers looking over private papers, fingered his books, curling my lip to find the journal I had seen him hold when I had first awoken in this place.

  A Guidebook on Pleasing Young Mates.

  Handwritten by some hybrid chauvinist who must have stolen another unwilling female to torment for fun, no doubt.

  Flipping through the well-read pages, I imagined males trading these copies with one another, a secret library of hybrid sex manuals waiting for any man who wanted information.

  While the females had nothing.

  Your young mate will be nervous, no matter how attentive you are to her sexual pleasure. Every choice you make will have consequences, so you must be prepared to deal with them as they arise. Excessive firmness will result in resistance. Overcoddling poor behavior will result in her insecurity. Females require strong mates. Yet never forget, there is a fine line between overpowering a woman and leaving her to her whims.

  You will not earn her honest submission if you are not worthy of it. You will not be worthy of it if you cannot conquer her.

  Give her options, and guide her with care. Should she be a female of extraordinary heat, do not let her suffer. Give her means to ease the transition.

  Bathe her.

  Feed her.

  Fuck her often.

  Should it be required, submit her completely so she understands your ability to curb counterintuitive behavior and that you will wield authority over her when necessary.

  Affection will develop naturally over time. Be patient.

  Rapt, I read on. Cyderial had followed many of the suggestions, touching me in places the author recommended. Employing gentle language and compliments. There were detailed diagrams of female anatomy the likes of which I had never seen. The name for each nerve in my newly open slit and even greater detail on nerve bundles deep in my reproductive tract. Actual diagrams of what the female body underwent during opening, and detailed descriptions of how the male might assist to ease pain.

  I looked weird inside, a labyrinth of twists and turns, specific nerves that must be stimulated by a dancing male organ. There were even exercises the man was suggested to memorize for maximum effect.

  Not to mention that the soft seam between my legs, which seemed straightforward in appearance, was actually the mouth of a stretchable passageway lined with rings of muscle that would give a male pleasure—delicate and ready to be extorted with the proper method and a powerful cock.

  Knowing the general had meticulously practiced every last technique over the ten years he had prepared for me. Imagining him naked, flexing and contracting that prehensile thing between his legs, learning the intricate performances needed to stimulate nerves to relax me, nerves to sexually excite me, nerves to make me climax until I saw stars….

  There was even a series of nerve strokes that would reduce female discomfort from the expansive stretch male fluids inevitably caused.

  The inflexible human meat stick I had seen in the pornographic video would never be able to do any of this.

  The hybrid male sex organ in these images was far more capable, much larger, and less threatening on the page than in real life.

  Still, it made me nervous to look upon that snake-like appendage in the diagrams. Pointed tip, with a wider flange following—to anchor it within, should a man be able to coax it inside female, willing or not. A series of segments, accordion-like, could flex to thicken or stretch to invade, the sensation of the ridges against female muscles stimulating for both parties. A knot would grotesquely expand at the broader root of the organ once she signaled orgasm, to lock her pelvis to his. It was his duty to ensure she continued to reach completion until satiated and compliant to male authority.

  His fluids were addictive, the ultimate balm to soothe a heat. Sexual ejaculation the ultimate cure, saliva enough to soften the fever, but not to end it.

  One sexual encounter and no other man would ever be able to ease the female’s compulsory chemical dependence. Other hybrid males would no longer hear her song and would therefore have no interest in copulation.

  Whoever knotted a desired mate first was the eternal winner. Courtship, getting to know your female, could be enjoyed following intercourse and compelled addiction.

  The language the author had chosen to describe these actions was deeply unsettling. This was a manual on forcing a woman who may not be willing but needed to be made compliant.

  Compelled addiction.

  After the agony of organs ripping apart and reforming, no female would want sex, and no male would be able to resist forcing a bond.

  Cyderial had done this to me.

  Unless some miracle came to save her, General Thayer would do this to Maeve.

  Every girl I knew at the academy would suffer, only to be mounted moments later by a male who was most likely a stranger. What if the men had not read this manual? What if they didn’t know what to do to make the pain as minimal as possible?

  The thought was horrific.

  Why were we not taught this about our bodies?

  Because there was no motivation for women to mate. We were not driven to insanity by the song. We did not have the sexual appetite boys had to struggle with growing up. If we did not want children, there was no reason to engage in something that would rip you in half and then bind you to a man who could make you fall asleep with little more than a sweet scent, a rhythmic melody, and some soft words.

  If we knew, many of us would refuse men altogether.

  We were born and confined until maturity so the stronger gender of our species could snatch us right off the list, our ignorant little heads filled with nonsense.

  Or in my case, taken as punishment for wanting to be free.

  Saddened, I set down the book, unable to read any further.

  An entire society existed in support of this—humans who wanted more of us, hybrids who wanted to fuck us.

  Enthusiasm for exploration dried up completely, the chair in his study as good as any place to sink into a depression.

  I didn’t like that I had been left alone in the house. Accustomed to the bustle of many sisters and constant company, it was lonely there in the dark.

  Lonely enough even the presence of a man I didn’t like would have been an improvement.

  What did that say about me?

  I hated the academy the majority of my life. Now, all I wanted was to either be back home… or be with him.

  Addicted indeed.

  And getting hotter by the hour.

  The hydraulic hiss of the front door unbolting announced my tormentor’s return. Down the hall, lights came on, drawing me from the dark study toward the opposite side of the dwelling.

  A jumble of mixed feelings, most of them awful, shared space with an uninvited sense of relief.

  Bare feet padded silently toward him, unsure what I would say to the villain now that he was here.

  My anger had cooled, but my resentment had only grown.

  I had every right to tell him that what he did was wrong. That he didn’t get to bully me and compel me to do things, not if he wanted me to respect him on any level.

  Mates were supposed to be loved by their males.

  Silent, because I had endured years of painful training to learn how to be so, I stalked toward a room aglow. Only to halt in my tracks at the sound of soft female laughter.

  Peering from the doorframe, somewhat hidden by the dark, I saw them. The general tall and proud, a woman on his arm, smiling at something he said.

  Silvery-blonde hair and perfect ingenue features, she looked like something straight out of a storybook. From the shining blue of her dress to the glittering jewelry around her wrists and throat, the peak of femininity I dreamed I might one day aspire to. Yet her beauty was something I could never achieve, and that made me instantly timid that she was looking up at me, with my tangled hair, hunched shoulders, and wrinkled naked dress, and seeing gracelessness and faults.

  Why was she smiling up at the general after taking one glance at me, arm intertwined with his as if they were familiar?

  And why did murder feel like the appropriate response to her friendly “Hello” when she acknowledged me watching from the dark?

  I had never disliked another female so much in my life.

  Disengaging from my mate, she eased closer to where I flared clawed fingers in warning that she was not welcome.

  Threatening her as I was, she waved my stance off with a smile. “It is completely normal for you to feel uncomfortable that I am here. And I must add I appreciate that you have not threatened murder… thus far. An unknown female entering your den so soon after you were mated is generally frowned upon. But I have come as a friend. Cyderial thought you may appreciate having an experienced woman to talk to.”

  Cyderial, standing by the door, wisely kept his distance.

  The glare I gave him let him see clearly that he and I had unfinished business.

  The stranger’s arm dared loop with mine. “Let’s get you cleaned up while we chat, hmm? Have you ever had a hot bath before? I remember the academy only had those horrible cold showers. When I was first mated, a hot bath might have been the only reason I softened at all toward my beast. Ah, he was awful in the beginning! I love him now, but how I dreamed of peeling the skin right off his bones all those years ago.”

  Okay, I could get on board with this. Violence toward men seemed like a valid option. Narrowing my scathing glare at the man waiting across the room, I hissed, “I would rather slit his throat while he sleeps.”

  With a conspiratorial laugh, she breezed me out of the dark, urging me into the light and closer to my mate. “Come, give him the opportunity to apologize.” To him, she lost her smile and softness. “His behavior was abominable, and he won’t do it again.”

  It didn’t matter if she was his guest or if she had been brought here for some nefarious purpose; she must have had a death wish. No one, especially a tiny wisp of a woman, talked to the general in that manner.

  Clenching my jaw so hard my teeth began to ache, I watched him run his gaze over me from toes to throat, finally landing on my face as if seeing me—even raging mad—was really quite a gift. But he did not apologize.

  “Don’t worry about him.” Voice annoyed, the odd female motioned for me to look away from the man and pay attention to her. All seriousness, she said, “Order him to make you something to eat. That will keep him out of our hair.”

  The whole moment was utterly absurd. “What?”

  “Like this.” She spun us about so we might fully face the stiff, observing male, employing a tone of stern command once more. “I want to eat braised hilp cabbage smothered in bacon and cream.” Giving me a quick wink, she added under her breath, “A salted meat from Earth so delicious our human ancestors brought pigs on the ship should they find a home after their apocalypse. It is very rare and expensive. Now, you try.”

  Extracting myself from whatever kind of foolishness this was, I shook her arm off. Yet as I began to retreat into the dark, she grabbed my hand, pulling me back with more force until we were face-to-face. “Don’t be intimated by his rank. He’s your mate now. You own him. Command him to serve you.”

  This pantomime may have been cute had it been acted out on another academy girl, but I was not that naïve. “My life is not some game! What is it that you want here? Trouble? Because I’ve had enough trouble to give me years of nightmares.”

  Cupping my shoulders in her hands, she gave them a squeeze. “I want to show you that Cyderial isn’t scary at all. Not when it comes to you, at least.”

  The silvery-haired waif was starting to seem like the scary one. Incuriously, I blurted, “Have you met him? He’s horrible!”

  Laughing, she conceded a bit of the point. “To earn the rank of General required a great deal of sacrifice. Having to endure over a hundred years of loneliness while waiting for his mate to appear may have roughened him around the edges a bit.” She squeezed my hand a bit too hard, her voice congenial. “But see what happens when you order him to serve you.”

  Academy students do not issue orders, not unless they want to be beaten to a pulp.

  “Try, Lorieyn.” Her arm slipped around my shoulders, the female giving me a chummy jostle. “Don’t be such a baby.”

  It was hard to tell if I was starting to like this woman, or if I really wanted to thumb out her eyeballs. The bones in my spine cracked as I stood taller, the wiggle of my shoulders a clear sign I wanted her arm off. “I am very hot, and I would prefer if you stop touching me.”

  Her arm did not move, the smile she gave me a bit fierce. “I have just the thing for that, but first… I can’t help you much if you won’t make an effort to try. If in the traumatic early day of my bond a female had told me I could order my mate to get me anything I wanted—that they have an uncontrollable urge to please you—it would have saved me ten years of being locked up in a room after he found me and dragged me off to be raped. Saying no is not enough, princess. Not if they feel it is in your best interest to go against your will. Clear orders that will directly benefit you would be very difficult for your mate to deny.”

  With a sudden sense of horror that Cyderial might do the same to me, I grew shrill. “Ten years?”

  “There, there, child. Your remorseful mate over there confessed it all when he asked for my guidance.” Cutting a glance at the male, she tutted. “A little glass on the floor, Cyderial? Really?”

  He said nothing, intently watching my reaction to this overbearing slip of a woman and her nonsense.

  “As you may have noticed, sweet girl, the menfolk can wield a certain control over their women—when it is to entice her sexually or submit her for her safety.” Glaring at him, she added a bit more loudly, “It should not be used after arguments to silence the woman you love.”

  And boy, was I still mad about it. “He insulted my mother!”

  Telling on him to whoever this female force of nature was felt good! Especially when she agreed with me. “Yes, he made a poor choice while trying to teach you an important lesson. Let’s forgive him for a boyish mistake and order him to be a proper mate. Start simply. Tell him to make you food.”

  Sucking in a breath, self-conscious, I looked at my naked toes and muttered, “Make whatever food your guest wants.”

  Bracelets tinkling, she threw up her hands. “You’ll have to do better than that. Look, he’s not even moving. The order must be for your benefit, remember? He couldn’t care less about my comfort.”

  Gritting out, “Please make me the dish she suggested,” had me sweating.

  “It would be my pleasure.” How velvet the words were when they fell from his lips was utterly inappropriate. Especially considering his obnoxious guest and how widely she grinned to see a flush break out over my heated skin.

  “Wine too, young man. Something sweet to help her relax.”

  Cyderial went from languid to divergent, interjecting immediately, “I don’t think that’s a good—"

  “I didn’t ask you what you thought!” she barked. Throwing me a wink after a moment of tense silence, she added, “Lorieyn, tell him you want two glasses of wine served with our midnight snack.”

  The strange woman just interrupted a fully ranked general, and he held his tongue like an admonished pup. Deeply intrigued, I looked away from my scowling captor and gave the glittering waif my full attention. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Miranda.” There was nothing pretentious in her introduction. Just a factual statement of “One of the first hybrid females born in Risa Colony.”

  Then she was at least four hundred years old! Beautiful, ageless, and absolutely perfect in every female way… and Cyderial’s superior on every level.

  A hybrid of her age and experience could literally snap me in half like a twig.

  I had shown her my claws and been unforgivably rude. Had we been in an academy setting, I would be a bloodstain on the floor right now.

  But she treated me with kindness at my obvious embarrassment. “We did not know then what we know now about mating urges or the madness of the song. You don’t have to suffer what I went through—ten years of being bullied by a well-meaning male who could not control his impulses. Nor do you need to be afraid of me. Let me counsel you on how to handle a mate of his temperament.”

  Drinking her in like she might actually be able to save me, I managed a soft order at last. “Cyderial, I will have a glass of wine, as will Miranda.”

  Beautifully smiling, she gave me a gentle pat. “Well done, my girl. Come, let’s see about that hot bath.”

  There had been baths when I was very little, in the sink of my mother’s small apartment. Though I understood the concept and had even recognized the raised tub in Cyderial’s bathroom, I would have never thought to actually use it.

  Already sweating, I confessed to the strange woman, “I am too hot for a hot bath.”

  Adjusting the settings so steaming water might pour out, Miranda said, “I know it seems counterintuitive, but it doesn’t really work that way. If you prefer, I can fill it up with cold water, which might feel helpful, but the heat will have a soothing effect on your nervous system and subsequently buy you more time. The cold will actually stimulate it, and your symptoms will progress at a faster rate. Absurd, isn’t it?”

  Well, that was solid information. Shaking out of the soiled dress, I asked, “What else can you teach me?”

  Nudity between females was a way of life, but this was the first person to view my body since I had been opened. There was a vivid seam between my legs now, but she kept her eyes on my face as she helped me into the tub.

  Old Miranda was right. Sinking into steaming water was really very comforting.

  Yet the entire tenor of the woman altered the second she had me in the water. Lathering soap between her hands to work it into my arm, there was a sudden urgent quality to her low-spoken secrets, as if she suspected he listened at the door. “He won’t tolerate my keeping you to myself for much longer, so I want to be plain with you, child. There is no breaking the bond. I tried everything when I was in your shoes, all it led to was suffering. You may not have wanted this male, but ultimately females cannot choose based on personal preference. Nature demands the strongest mates. We are made from this planet and must follow the rules of this world. Our ranking system requires a great deal of violence between the men. One does not earn the title of General only from excellence in the field. Cyderial had to physically defeat every other male vying for the position. Thousands. He still takes challengers once a year. Not all of the males eager for rank walk away. Before it was outlawed, humans used to make a sport of it. He was very popular, filling up stadiums so they might watch that man tear apart his peers.”