Her Broken Alpha

by Isoellen

  Nervousness bubbled up, burning her throat. There was the possibility of answers she didn't like coming. It had never been her place to ask questions and the awkwardness of it added to her inner discomfort.

  She was struggling for her next words when a wave of masculine reassurance washed over her. Monster. He felt her through their bond. Her emotions and lack of confidence had reached him, and he’d answered with an outpouring of comfort.

  His response melted her. Fortified her. Rubbing her chest over her heart, she cleared her throat. "How long were you a servant in that man's parish?"

  Sara's smile was grim. "Slave, Miss. We are slaves. Not paid, no choices, no will of our own."

  Naya straightened her shoulders. "It's wrong. Horrible. I have heard of factions who want to enslave all drones, saying they deserve it for first engineering and creating breed in their labs. I don't agree. That was over a thousand years ago, and much has been done to humanity since. We must learn to live with our biological differences.

  “Apologies aren't enough from me, so I'm not going to offer them. Just know I don't agree with slavery. Not that it really matters."

  Sara looked Naya in the eye. "I shouldn't be talking this way with you, Miss. I could be killed for it—beaten."

  "You won't be. But Sara…" Naya stopped herself, thinking carefully. "If you cannot find it in your heart to be loyal, to trust me, then it would be better if you go now."

  Sara laughed, brisk and harsh. "I don't want to go. Forgive me. The last twenty-four hours I've felt safer than I have my entire life. I'm a bit lost with it. My tongue gets away with me."

  "I prefer your loyalty and your honest tongue. How long were you at the parish?"

  "Three years, miss. My last master lost a pit fight and I was sold."

  Naya asked questions, trying to find out about Sara's life. She wanted to know her as a person. It would go a long way toward helping them trust each other.

  Not born a beauty, Sara had spent much of her life doing menial tasks. She’d spent time hauling water, working in gardens, and sewing clothing. Naya asked her if she would be able to help her make clothing, and she offered a confident smile.

  "It's one of the tasks I enjoy doing, sewing. I made a few of the dresses for Tenbel's ladies." She frowned. "Poor girls. He wanted them dressed like he imagined a harem of ready breeders would look. Then I see you, all modest and proper—not what he envisioned at all."

  Naya didn't feel modest or proper.

  The drones had found her a long scarf she used to cross over her chest and tie at her back in an effort to give her breasts some support. When she’d realized earlier in the day that Monster's intense attention had made her chest extra sensitive, binding them became a priority she wouldn't put off.

  While it helped a little, it didn't feel proper. She wore the scarf under another of Monsters shirts, this one made of soft leather, gaping at the neck down to her navel and hanging like a dress to her knees.

  She kept reaching up to pinch the neck closed so that the sheer scarf covering her chest wasn't hanging out for all to see.

  With Monster about his business, she also braided her hair, but her curls had gone wild and frizzy. A braid couldn't contain the mess of it. She needed conditioning cream.

  Her mother would have had a heart attack if she saw her youngest daughter's appearance, and her older sister would have laughed for days.

  "No breeder I know would tolerate a harem or share space with other women. They'd have to be forced," Naya said with a frown. "It's not in an omega breeder's nature to share. We are as territorial as alphas. More so, because we invite the alpha into our space and not vice-versa. That man did not understand breeders."

  "It was in his book. But that was all make-believe anyway. There were passages about how the faithful would become fruitful and multiply, and their children would be the strongest and most beautiful in the land," Sara said.

  "I'd like to read that book." A book that made breeders out to be willing brothel workers? What fantastic drivel, Naya thought.

  "It promised everything they ever wanted for themselves and their future. Just follow the way of truth and life comes together like ripe fruit to the hand."

  Monster had asked if Crispin could have betrayed her—uniquely gentle Crispin, first-born son of her father's faithful, longtime friend and Second. Father and son had both been in the house the night she was stolen, waiting for her estrus to begin. There had also been other family members and other friends of her father's. The household drones were sleeping elsewhere, but some of the guests who brought drones had them bunked down on floor mats.

  That drivel in the book sounded like something that would appeal to males who felt powerless and disenfranchised. It was the type of book meant to give meaning to those who had never felt valued or as though they had a significant a purpose in life.

  Was that Crispin? A cousin? A drone?

  Anyone could have drugged her and moved her during the night.

  But why her? Had Naya done something? Enemies who harbored a hatred that would see her in a world like Sector 2 and in the hands of the black-robed priest Tenbel seemed impossible.

  Who could hate her so much? Every person in her home had known she was near estrus, that she would be vulnerable to alpha pheromones. Forcing her out of her home at such a time was the height of cruelty.

  A knock at the door startled Naya. Expecting Tee, Naya called out for the person to enter.

  The door opened slow and cautious, an older drone man peeking through from the other side. "Miss, I'm to see if you are all right or need anything from the alpha."

  "Oh, he sent you?"

  "Yes."

  Warmth bloomed in her heart. That wonderful, beastly man.

  "Tell him I am fine. Just chatting with Sara here. I was being silly. Did he say when he would be finished?"

  "No, miss."

  "Okay. Well, I am fine. Thank you for running up here to ask me, sir. What's your name?"

  The man looked embarrassed. "Just call me James."

  "All right, James. Thank you."

  "You’re welcome," he mumbled at the floor before shutting the door.

  After watching the exchange, Sara said, "You're the first omega breeder I have ever met. It's true what they say, then? That omegas tame their alphas?"

  Naya was surprised. "Is that what they say? Among the drones?" She laughed lightly. "I don't know if we tame them. It's in their nature to be a certain way, and nothing can change that."

  "The alphas I've come across don't worry about a woman's feelings."

  "No. They are rather self-centered. That's the bond you are seeing, I think."

  Naya could see from the look on Sara's face she didn't quite understand. She shrugged, not knowing how to explain it. "Do you know where the other parishes are? Who runs them? That would be information the alpha would want to know."

  "I know who runs them, but I don't know where they are. Someone else might. I know that drones were traded back and forth between the parishes, and some of the beta women too."

  "This Louis you spoke of, what was his role?"

  "He was called the first scribe. He oversaw the parish credits, but I also got the feeling he managed Tenbel and those other priests. When they got off track with their goals, he would get them all focused again. He could be quite manipulative, if you know what I mean. It's hard to explain."

  "Sounds like something an alpha would do."

  "All the black robes were betas."

  "I know you said that. But my father is a scribe house master. If you ever heard him at court, or talking about a contract, you would think he was commanding and manipulative at the same time. Father isn’t big and strong, not like Monster, but he wouldn't be a Master if he wasn't able to enforce his will."

  Sara looked at her thoughtfully. "I thought that the way to recognize an alpha is by their size and physical strength."

  Naya nodded. "That is one way. But you must remember, alphas command and betas
follow orders. It's biological. Even if they don't want to, if an alpha gives an order, they obey.

  “They also smell like alphas. It can be masked, I've heard, but it's a natural thing that happens at puberty and has nothing to do with how they look."

  "I didn't realize. I always thought it was size."

  "It's interesting that an alpha might be pretending to be a beta," Naya murmured. "I arrived at the parish in a packing crate. One of the girls said that happened to her too. Do you know anything about that?"

  "I think they were getting boxes before I was bought for the parish. Tenbel was always excited about shipments. I'm sure you know there are not a lot of breed women in this district. It's a strange place for a cult that believes every male deserves ten females."

  "Were the girls kidnapped or sold by family members?"

  "Both, I think."

  "That's awful," Naya said. It sounded horrific. If she hadn't been given to Monster, she would’ve shared the same fate, sucked up by Sector 2, raped and enslaved. Since she had come from her own home, her own bed, had she been sold? Had someone in her home owed a debt to Tenbel?

  Naya was looking at Sara, thinking of what she would say next, when Tee and the other two girls returned with food and a basket full of items Naya had requested. She let the conversation go to lighter things.

  There was much to discuss with her Monster. Hopefully, when he returned, he would be in a frame of mind for conversation.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Darre

  The Hole was on the lowest floor of Darre's tower. Being an Administration building, there were actual unpleasant holding cells down there with metal doors made to withstand feral breed rages. Made worse by the seasonal floods and sewage issues, it was not a pleasant place.

  There weren't enough individual cells, so the crow boys had all been placed in a common area. It wasn't very large, however. There was room to stand, though there were benches lining the walls that were barely wide enough to sit on, and a half of a foot of wet filth every square foot of the small space.

  There was also a mesh and metal balcony platform above where a guard could stand watch. Since there was no electricity in Sector 2, there was no light in the Hole. His own people used head lamps to see, or torches and battery-powered flashlights.

  Without aid, Darre would only be able to get a general sense of the space. It was a good place to send his enemies to ripen.

  Tenbel's betas smelled very ripe.

  He was surprised, though, that less than twenty-four hours after their arrival, three of them were already dead. They were betas, not weak-ass, breakable drones. The filth in the water would kill a drone, but breed had a higher tolerance for that sort of thing. Even standing in it for a week with an open cut shouldn't have caused more than a mild reaction.

  Messing with betas was fun, but Darre remembered having ordered the men not to kill any of them until he'd had a chance to chat with them. Unless there was infighting, no one should have died.

  Darre picked a clean room, found a chair for himself, turned on the lamps, and had one of his men bring him a crow to talk to.

  One by one, stinking of defeat, they entered the room. They knew his capabilities. Lies were useless. Silence was impossible. He compelled their answers, asking the same sets of questions each time.

  He got religious drivel back as a response at first, making him impatient. He had to show every single one of them what kind of man he was. Darre hadn't come in wanting to draw blood, but breed responded best to a show of superior force.

  The screams from the first interviews helped to loosen the tongues of those who came later, making the process go much faster.

  At one point, his claw hooked in the throat of a prisoner he had on his knees, Darre felt a strange ache in his chest, weird and uncomfortable.

  Naya.

  Darre almost ran out of the hole like a madman to get to her before realizing she was just worried about something. Yet her discomfort bothered him and called forth his purr.

  His captive's eyes were bulging, his face red, mouth gaping, a deadly black claw hooked in the top of his throat as he gazed at Darre standing over him, full of menace—and then suddenly he was purring.

  Fuckin' hilarious. At least to him.

  He couldn't help it, and he didn't stop it. He purred until he felt the discomfort through the bond ease. Then he demanded a drone go to check on her.

  The beta prisoner ended up dead, but Darre still wasn't getting the answers he needed. Louis had been with them at their parish. They thought he had been rounded up. They didn’t see him leave.

  No, they knew nothing about the women. They’d come in crates. They’d assumed followers of the First Alpha had sent them.

  Yes, Louis was the man to ask. Louis knew everything. Louis had connections outside Sector 2.

  No, they didn't know who he was before Sector 2. They’d become followers of the First Alpha because of the promise of women. What hope was there in this life without the comfort of pussy?

  Darre had asked about the three men who died. No one knew how it happened, but coincidently, they’d happened to be a part of the inner circle. They’d worked with Louis.

  After fifteen conversations and a mounting pile of bodies, Darre was sure he would learn nothing different.

  Outspoken and surly, a few of the beta males killed themselves with their own words. Their answers or their thinly veiled hostility toward Darre triggered his inner monster.

  Before he knew it, he was being hit in the face with the spray of arterial blood as he killed yet another worthless beta.

  His little mate had healed him, but clearly he was still a territorial bastard who had no patience for other people's shit.

  Breed males, even betas, were not like drones. They did not, as a rule, experience deep emotional growth, learn from their mistakes, or become better men. Once bad behavior became a part of their character, there was no rehabilitating them.

  When he recognized a threat, Darre killed it, even if it was just a potential threat. It was an instinct that would make him unable to leave places like Sector 2. He knew it, didn't pretend otherwise, and felt no remorse over it.

  Should he bother with the rest of them? It was clear the men he wanted were already dead.

  Narrowing his line of questioning, he talked to the rest of the black robes on the off-chance he might find some scrap of information that proved worthwhile.

  He hadn't missed anything. He only added another three men to his pile.

  It was odd that so many of these beta males who followed the First Alpha bore hatred for the alpha right in front of them. He'd smelled jealousy and sensed disrespect on more than one of them, even as they pissed themselves and showed their necks in submission. They tried to hide it, but the threat of death hadn't been able to erase their deep-seated disdain for the alpha dynamic—and for Darre in particular.

  Trained or not, Tenbel had been gathering Darre's enemies all in one place like a half-worthless army.

  And none of Darre's men had seen fit to tell him.

  Once all the questioning was done, Darre left his men to clean up the mess. The rest of the betas would be fodder for the fighting pits where they would likely die in their pretentious robes at the hands of alphas. It seemed fitting.

  Standing under the shower spigot as water poured over his head until it went from red, to pink, and then clear, he contemplated what the hell his next step was going to be.

  He washed off the mess of blood and changed into fresh clothing. He kept a closet in the Hole specifically for this purpose and was glad of it now in a way he'd never been before. Glad his little mate wouldn't see him with blood up to his elbows and splashed across his face.

  He needed to talk to Mac. Find this Louis. And he needed to talk to every one of his alphas. Smell them. Test them. He needed answers from that pregnant beta girl. Was she a connection to Naya?

  Fuckin’ needed to protect his mate.

  In the end, that was the o
nly option for his next step. Trying to get answers from Tenbel's twenty-three males, he’d left her alone most of the day. Bringing her down to the Hole with him had not been an option. It was time to get back upstairs. Smell her, touch her, reassure himself that his treasure was where and how he’d left her. That no other male had gone near her.

  Meeting the eyes of every alpha he passed, he assessed them. Judged them. Were they as loyal as he had thought? He searched for hints of disrespect and betrayal in their mannerisms.

  Darre had beaten the pulp out of every male in his tower to prove his superiority, and they had sworn loyalty in return for their lives. Most of them couldn't hold his gaze, too overwhelmed by his predator, unable to challenge him on any level.

  He paid them a small wage, housed and fed them, and offered them a measure of safety. The other alphas of Darre's district—slumlords who were strong enough to own property—might offer their employees perks like drone slaves, drugs, and cheap homemade alcohol to lure them into loyalty. But very few slumlords offered any predictable routine or food for a man's self-respect.

  Darre had spent too many years in the Administration army to not want order in his territory. The men who worked for him had the same kind of need. He gained their loyalty through fear. He’d always thought he'd kept it because they liked how he ran things.

  Maybe he'd been fucking stupid to think that. Maybe he was surrounded by males who just wanted to take him down and be top of the alpha pile.

  The back of his neck felt twitchy. Something was coming—a storm. Just when he was at his most vulnerable with a young, pregnant mate.

  Darre was crossing through the dining hall when Alreck approached him. Since the other man was often on the twelfth floor guarding Darre's private space, Darre assumed the man was off-duty. He took long steps straight toward Darre, determination in the set of his jaw.

  "Sir." He tipped his head. "I want a chance to court a beta woman." Direct and plain-spoken in both words and personality, Alreck didn't waste time with ass-kissing.

  "Nothing but trouble," Darre muttered, looking the other man up and down. Alreck was younger than Darre by several decades. The two long slashes down his face that bisected his eyebrow and cut down his cheek had come courtesy of the monster when Darre established his leadership.