And her third?

  Her third was that she wished it had been real. That she wished he would order her to her knees, pull out his cock, and fill her mouth.

  “Brenya?”

  Body languid and soft, she leaned closer. “Yes?”

  “I cannot join you for dinner tonight.”

  “Oh.” She took a step away, toying with her hair, unsure why she did it. “Um.”

  With a rare smile, the man said, “It’s going to be a spectacular clock. Promise me you won’t stay up too late working on it.”

  There was no way she was going to be able to work on it until this strange sensation had passed.

  She needed relief, release, completion, fulfillment… for him to brush against her one more time.

  But, he left her.

  Alone, the door barred from her side, she sank to the floor, her eyes on the ceiling. Looking upon the beautiful fresco, Brenya let her hands stray where they would.

  She indulged, just as she had indulged in the creation of her clock.

  Fully.

  Left nipple rolled between her fingers, labia glistening as her hand stroked a part of her that no longer hurt, she allowed herself to chase what she needed. To know that this was her body, that she could touch herself if she wished, that it was safe in that room, and her hand felt nothing but good.

  Orgasm swept in, building up its beautiful presence in her belly, sparkling like glitter as it formed and burst through nerves and bone, trickling all the way to her fingertips.

  One that was hers and hers alone.

  That had been safe.

  The Gods had seen it all. Even the smile on her face.

  Yet, on the other side of the barred door, a man groaned. As if he had been pressed against the wood, listening to her touch herself.

  As if he had shared her climax.

  Staring at the barrier between them, Brenya gathered herself from the floor and dared approach. Wanting something from the male, unsure what it was, but certain he would give it to her. The man who swore he would keep her safe. Cheeks flushed from more than just release, Brenya reached for the latch, only to shriek when a knock shook the wood before she might open the door.

  An Alpha guard spoke through the wood. “Madame Havel. There has been an incident regarding Jacques Bernard. We are to return you to the Red Room and follow Security Procedure Level Five.”

  Instantly sobered from whatever insanity had stolen her reason, Brenya felt the weight of fear steal her effervescent lightness. Heart in her throat, she obeyed the guards, hastening into their care.

  The Red Room was less than ten meters away, but she had been rushed there as if her workspace across the hall were up in flames. When the door closed, it was barred.

  Sealed like a vault.

  Locking her in a supposedly impenetrable room, yet still, she was too nervous to approach the window.

  Instead, she chewed her nails to the quick, sitting in Jules’s chair and worrying.

  It was an hour before the Beta arrived with food and drink. So much for their dinner apart.

  Arranging the food on the table, he invited her to eat. “He is contained, and you are safe. I apologize I could not come to you sooner.”

  Because Jules was handling Jacques for her. Keeping him away, contained.

  Tangible gratitude, making her burn all the brighter in his endless sea, encouraged Brenya to relax her shoulders and say, “Thank you.”

  Reaching for her spoon, she prepared a bit of rich stew, working hard to calm her nerves.

  He watched her eat, his own food untouched, staring at her as if waiting for her to acknowledge why it seemed so warm in the room. It wasn't until a gasp left her lips and legs involuntarily parted under the table that Brenya went from cautious to frightened.

  A knot was blooming, dumping wretched filth.

  Shooting out from her chair, staring down at her lap, she found there was nothing there.

  Just a small pool of slick she had not even realized had grown between her legs.

  “Jacques is awake and, at my explicit order, currently knotting Lucia,” Jules began, watching her as she groaned from another unwelcome sensation. “A pregnant Omega who has lost or has been separated from her mate requires tending, or her child will abort. He cannot have you. Lucia has no one. It is the solution that benefits all parties… to a point… and will keep the Alpha distracted until he learns control.”

  Jacques was coming again, Brenya catching her weight on the back of her chair, eyes rolling into her skull.

  Whining as if the shrill noise might bring her relief, Brenya squeezed her thighs shut, hoping it would stop the waves of sensation and the churning gush of slick.

  Jules sounded almost sorry. “He is your mate, Brenya. The pair-bond cannot be undone. For your wellbeing, there will be times you must spend in his presence. Is it not better if he is sexually exhausted beforehand?”

  “This is because of what I did today?” How she had touched her own body for relief.

  “He did not respond well to your pleasure. Even partially sedated, he killed two of the medical team assigned with monitoring him before he could be restrained.” Standing from his chair, Jules Havel circled the table and came to her. “But, Brenya, it is your body, and you can do what you want with it. Jacques must learn this and perhaps find a purpose serving an Omega in need.”

  A conflicting mess ate her up between climaxes, yet one emotion stood out against all others.

  Betrayal.

  He had touched her over the table. That had been real!

  Jules had known Jacques was awake… that all of this would happen as a result.

  Those eyes that saw everything, that burned like the heart of the hottest blue flame, held no remorse.

  Reaching out a hand, a man who had been very decent with her became anything but. Voice pure hunger, Jules Havel purred, “It’s time, Brenya. Invite me into your nest.”

  Thank you for reading CORRUPTED - Extended Edition! Jules and Brenya’s story is far from over. Preorder DEVOURED Now!

  Want to shop the best deals on Addison Cain books? Snag your discounted bundles HERE!

  Subscribe to my newsletter for the latest news, teasers, and sexy secrets.

  Now, please enjoy an extended excerpt of my new release, HIS DARKEST DECEIT!

  THANK YOU FOR READING!

  Did you enjoy Corrupted - Extended Edition? Please consider leaving a review!

  Join my Fan Group, The Lounge, by Addison Cain, for sneak peeks, giveaways, and a whole lot of fun!

  Ready for more? Turn the page for a full chapter preview of my latest release, HIS DARKEST DECEIT!

  NEW RELEASE: HIS DARKEST DECEIT

  To fail within the academy amounted to certain death.

  To shine, to draw our illustrious general’s attention, would result in ruin.

  Every last recruit contained within the academy’s walls had been created by the human government of Risa Colony. We were owned by their military, our genetics mixed with the hostile planet's apex predator, the vorec. Given life for a single purpose—to protect humans.

  Fail to perform in that purpose, demonstrate that you were unworthy of the vast expense and time spent in one’s creation and training, and your life was forfeit.

  Once per annum, a compulsory evaluation was required for every hybrid recruit. A student would enter the cold-blooded General Cyderial’s office. My colleagues, friends who had grown up beside me—some would enter those doors and… never come out again.

  I had learned from the age of five that if I portrayed a front of absolute mediocrity, I would mostly be ignored by those in power.

  Never test too high, regardless of how well one comprehended the materials.

  Do not build strong relationships with professors or staff.

  Be immemorable.

  Stay respectful but distant.

  Friendships were for later in the day, in the privacy of dorms, when the vault separating the female students from the academy proper was sealed. Armed watchers—elite male guards—were forbidden from female spaces. With no one cataloging our every move, there was a semblance of freedom. Our own secret after-hours culture.

  But where the watchers lingered, conversations were to be kept to an absolute minimum.

  Making eye contact with an authority figure was tantamount to instant punishment.

  Minor infractions could result in death.

  Never get caught breaking the rules, break them in such a way that culpability was questionable. If you were apprehended, it was smarter to say nothing, accept the punishment, and leave without complaint.

  With only six weeks until graduation, it was required that I endure only one final meeting with General Cyderial until my future placement would be decided. I had calculated the exact scores I would need to squeak by and maintain my façade of middling intelligence. With a ranking so unimpressive, I would be given the position of surveyor—a dangerous job for the more expendable hybrids.

  A post the majority of my colleagues would cringe to be associated with.

  One I greatly coveted. One where I could explore this fog-covered hostile planet with a small team of genetically modified hybrid humans like myself.

  Leave the academy behind, forever.

  I had no fear of the wilderness that surrounded our burgeoning city. I was mesmerized by what I might find within its dense mists. Heard the call of the beasts who lived there, and knew the fog was where I belonged.

  One final meeting with a terror and I would be free.

  I was so close to my ultimate goal.

  And damned proud of myself for making it so far.

  Formal uniform impeccable, brown hair pulled away from my face and tightly knotted at my nape, I walked through the general’s office door stiff with decorum—in exactly the way expected of me. The nature of the chamber was unusual for a workspace, the main area housing his desk past an extended museum-like vestibule.

  But it was beautiful… so many pretty things on so many delicate shelves.

  Once, when I was very young, in a fit of temper, I'd swiped a little geode off the fancy display near the door. I still had it tucked away where no soul would ever find it. It was pink, glittery, and still one of the prettiest things I had ever seen.

  Even though I had been only twelve when I had taken it, I’m pretty sure that if he had ever noticed it was missing or had the general suspected it was me, I would have received far more than a beating.

  Hybrids regenerated at an extreme pace, making torture survivable and a real threat to consider. Every student had seen the consequences of his wrath in those who failed to live up to the academy’s high standards.

  Death.

  It had not always been so bad for recruits. General Cyderial did not take the position of Academy Director until I was twelve. His predecessor had been stern but far more gentle. Too gentle, by Cyderial’s estimation.

  He expected killing machines and perfect poise. There was no room for anything soft. Not when we were reminded that this was a boot camp for children. That we were being trained for war.

  Against what? A planet where everything wanted to kill you.

  That’s why humans had broken an ancient taboo and genetically modified select embryos for a higher purpose—so hybrids, like myself, might keep the humans alive and guarantee that the survivors of a desiccated earth might build civilization anew.

  For a human mother to undergo the treatments and bear a hybrid baby was a guarantee of comfort for the rest of one’s short human years. It raised a family’s status socially and was done with great honor.

  I had even been told there were some human women who saw gestating hybrids as their holy calling. However, it was not easy work to bear and birth my kind.

  To bond with an exotic baby you knew you could not keep.

  We looked more or less the same as our human counterparts, but hybrids were stronger, faster. For some, the reptilian Vorec genes were more dominant—iridescent scales blended with our skin. Unusual colorings in moments of high emotion.

  Much of what set us apart was concealed at all times under uniforms, yet some key traits could not be hidden.

  My nails were hooked and required daily tending to remain at a length that made holding a stylus possible. Extremely sharp talons were a common trait amongst the females in the dorms. We were not taught human anatomy, so I had no basis of comparison, but I did know they had only one heart. We had two.

  Our respiratory systems were more advanced than a humans, to facilitate breathing the planet's toxic fog with no issue. Hybrids possessed a vorec internal organ tucked near our lungs. Its purpose? To pulse out a drum-like rhythm when we grew especially aggressive.

  For the vorec, that thumping sound alerted whoever was on guard that an enraged beast was preparing an imminent attack. In the hybrid population, to be able to create that deep booming drum came with age. I had only accidentally let out a series of threatening thumps and hisses when engaged in rigorous hand-to-hand combat training or in battle defending the humans from wildlife that strayed too close to civilization.

  It was considered the apex of threatening, and absolutely unallowed in the academy, the aforementioned circumstances aside.

  Most remarkably, hybrids lived significantly longer than unmodified humans. Physical aging ceased upon maturity. Some of the earliest hybrids still lived hundreds of years after their birth.

  I had been five when my birth mother completed her duty and handed me over for collection. Five when an instructor handed me a sharp training sword, locked me in an empty room, and unleashed an enraged adolescent vorec looking for blood. Through an observation window, I was observed fending it off with my unfamiliar weapon. Ultimately, I had killed it quite by accident. My jab pierced its soft palate, and the poor, small female died in minutes.

  I was given top grades.

  Nothing like a brush with death to welcome one to one’s new home. And those were the gentle years.

  That was the previous general who didn’t look at me as if he wanted to swallow me whole.

  General Cyderial possessed an unholy stare that even the blond hair that hung over his eyes could not conceal. Broad-shouldered, anything but relaxed, my first impression of him was… to steer clear.

  Only twelve, I had polished my brass buttons, donned my best uniform, stood at attention before his desk, and made the mistake of meeting his eye.

  Lesson learned from that point forward—avoid eye contact with the man at all costs.

  Not once did he speak to me upon that first appointment. No comment on my subpar marks, no feedback nor encouragement. Nothing more than that unnerving, weighty glare.

  I’d left that odd encounter feeling as if I had been marked and found wanting. The whole exchange was painfully uncomfortable. Keyed up and agitated, I had done the unthinkable on my way out. I swiped that pretty pink geode off one of his fancy shelves.

  I still couldn’t tell you why I dared such a petty, stupid crime. Perhaps it was because I was young and embarrassed. Perhaps I had wanted to punish him for making me feel so strange.

  Perhaps it was because his office had been so unusual and smelled so nice, yet the man within it was awful.

  I learned to hate him.

  Change for the academy came hard and fast after our initial meeting. Life became much more complicated. Training harder, classes more intense.

  Punishments far more severe.

  Recruits entered the office and were never seen again.

  One of them had been my seat partner in biology, a nice boy who smiled at me and shared his notes.

  Shortly after, classes became fully segregated. Girls to the right, boys to the left. Our classrooms were invaded by grown men, armed watchers positioned in every corner to ensure the genders did not intermingle.

  Violence would be used on any boy caught glancing at the female side of the room. Those boys who thought to tease by sticking out their incredibly long tongues were beaten beyond recognition. The watchers were relentless.

  There were no more jokes in the hall. There was no more comradery at meals.

  The women had no one but each other, and the culture in the dorms underwent a dramatic shift.

  After a few years, it seemed almost normal to live in such isolation, but there were mental consequences to the general’s edicts.

  It appeared worse for the boys, but the girls suffered too. Loneliness, an unnatural life of isolation. It took some time to find a new female-only equilibrium.

  Changes in behavior that no one talked about, lest they get a fellow sister in trouble.

  Some of the older girls began to act in strange ways. They started to wander in the night. Headed for our male counterparts.

  To be caught out in the halls unchaperoned was unthinkable.

  The older the student, the more severe the reprimand.

  A young man caught fornicating with one of the older female classmates led to immediate public execution.

  I had witnessed frightened boys dangling from a rope more times than I cared to remember. Had to live with the terrified girls in the barracks. The brokenhearted, the lonely, and the very, very sad.

  The women who participated in sexual escapades and got caught were never seen again. Their fate, I feared, was far worse than a noose.

  At twelve, I had little more than a passing interest in boys, but I understood the older girls' sorrow. They had already taken our parents, then they had segregated us from our brothers, and finally stolen their sweethearts.

  And I was one last meeting and six final weeks of training away from freedom.

  Assuming the general was unaware of the contraband hidden in my dorm room: a tube of lipstick, three women's magazines, and a dress I had sewn myself from old uniform scraps collected over the years. A very pretty dress, considering what I’d had to work with.