Omega's Deception

by Lillian Sable

  Ianthe slid into the seat next to her sister and picked up the nearest bottle. “At least he had some in stock.”

  “It didn’t seem like he was much interested in selling anything at all.” Circe began opening bottles and counting the pills contained inside. “In fact, he closed up shop right after I finished my sale and it was only noontime.”

  “How strange.”

  “These are strange days. Did you hear there will be another execution in the public square this week?”

  Ianthe did not obsess over the newsfeed the way that her sister did, but obviously she knew of the political unrest that seemed to always simmer in the city. She had heard stories of the rampant corruption that plagued every sector, even the highest levels of the government weren’t free of accusations.

  She never paid much attention to it. There was little room for politics when she was so immediately concerned with basic survival. But Circe seemed practically obsessed with the power players in the upper levels, she knew the names of every Senator and official of any significance.

  “Do you know who?”

  “Emilio Tintori, for crimes against the crown.” Circe’s voice had gone low and conspiratorial as if she was sharing a secret. “He was convicted of murdering the prince, even though no body was never found.”

  “And which prince would that be?” It was common knowledge that King Rolan, more figurehead than a true ruler, had a harem of Omegas who produced his heirs. There were at least a dozen princes.

  “Castor. Sky above, Ianthe, how do you not know this? His skycar malfunctioned and blew up over the Forbidden Zone and everyone knows it was tampered with. It had to be Tintori, he’d made threats against Prince Castor in the past. He was convicted fairly quickly and now they’ve scheduled the execution.”

  Ianthe had not heard of this and it momentarily distracted her from her own pressing problems. “Even without a body? How do they know the prince isn’t still alive?”

  “Apparently, it was a spectacular explosion. No one could have survived it.” Circe’s voice dropped even lower. “You know people say that Tintori was acting on someone else’s orders, that the assassination attempt originated from within the palace itself.”

  “And who is Elmedio, again?”

  “Emilio,” her sister promptly corrected. “Here, let me show you.”

  “You really don’t have to do that…” Ianthe started, but Circe was already up and moving toward the CommNet terminal.

  Circe held up the screen that now held the scowling face of an unfamiliar man. “Emilio Tintori, former palace guardian and now convicted murderer.”

  The image flashed away to another picture inside the palace, clearly both images were part of an album that defaulted to scroll across the screen. It changed again to a group of men with one standing on a raised podium in the middle. She vaguely recognized that man as King Rolan.

  Ianthe would never understand her sister’s fascination with the royal family and other elites in the upper levels. Circe was like a hungry child pressing their face against the glass of the finest sweet shop, able to see all the delicious things contained inside but unable to have any for themselves. Ianthe preferred not to have the constant reminder that she was wallowing in the dirt while others lived surrounded by luxury. While her sister yearned, she raged.

  Ianthe did not want to think about murdered princes or the political machinations that kept so many people subservient to the very few at the top. She wanted to focus on the more immediate need to get through the night. “How much of this do I need to take?”

  Her sister slapped away her hand before Ianthe could get close to the pile of carefully stamped pills. “I’m not an apothecarist, you know. I’m only guessing at what dosage will work.”

  “Why can’t you give me whatever you gave me before?”

  “Because I don’t have the same combination of strengths and amount as I did before,” Circe huffed, sounding more aggrieved by the puzzle in front of her than with anything else. “If I had the proper equipment, I could titrate things with more accuracy but this is really just a crap shoot.”

  After enough dithering to make her want to pull her hair out, her sister finally placed a small handful of pills in front of her. “Is this it?”

  Circe shrugged as if she couldn’t be sure one way or another. “There’s only one way to find out.”

  “Down the hatch,” Ianthe murmured, voice heavy with sarcasm. She tossed back the pills then chased them with a gulp of filtered water from the glass beside her. “Let’s hope you got it right.”

  Circe rolled her eyes at that, but could not hide the flash of concern in her gaze. “It isn’t us that I’m worried about. It’s you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Ianthe assured her, with more confidence than she actually felt. “Everything will work out fine.”

  Now if only she could convince herself.

  Her sister had set the portable CommNet screen down on the table between them as pictures continued to flash across its surface. When another appeared, a candid shot of a man alone in a dark room, Ianthe moved quickly to pause on it.

  “Who is this?”

  Circe glanced down as she continued to count pills back into their respective bottles. “Oh him, that’s another nasty one. His name is Legion, or at least that’s what he calls himself. He’s not a political Alpha, but he still has way more power than any one man should. I’ve heard people say that he’s a terrorist who controls the Senate through threats, but that’s probably just rumors. I think he just has a lot of money and spends it on controlling politicians.”

  Legion. So that was the name of the Alpha who had put her over his knee, spanked her and then fingered her into oblivion, all while whispering the nastiest things that she had ever heard into her ear.

  Somehow it didn’t make it better to know his name, to put an identity to the man who had invaded her dreams. It made things that much more intimate and she wanted nothing to draw them closer. She wanted to forget all the things that he had forced her to feel.

  Except she was going back that very night to do it all over again, now armed with his name.

  Sour bile rose in the back of her throat, spurred by the overdose of alterants and her own fear.

  She only had to get through one more night.

  Chapter Nine

  This time, the Alpha was already waiting for her. The same burly guards who had driven her the last time escorted her into Eros House and straight up the massive staircase without so much as hesitating at the door.

  Ianthe wasn’t allowed the luxury of milling in the around the lower room with the others like she had before. She caught a brief glimpse of Casi, who cast her a small smile before they whisked her away. She wondered how long the blonde girl had been coming to Eros House. Was that a brief vision of her own future, just after she grew accustomed to the easy credits and her Alpha lost interest?

  Unlike the first time, they had not required her to change into one of those ridiculous scraps of sheer fabric that served no purpose as a body covering. Instead, she again wore the simple blue dress that the Procurer had so cruelly mocked. But it was also the only item of clothing she owned, aside from her work uniform, that did not have holes in it.

  She recognized this place for the trap that it was, and yet that hadn’t stopped her from showing back up inside it. It was hard to feel superior when she made the same mistakes as everyone else.

  And knowing that it was a mistake hadn’t stopped her from coming here, so what did that make her?

  They left her in the same room, darkened just as it had been before, but this time lit sconces lined one wall and created a soft glow. A small table sat below it, arranged with a light buffet of fruits, cheeses, and sliced meats. She wondered how much of that food, laid out more like artwork than anything meant for actual consumption, would go to waste. They would dispose of enough food to feed a family in the slums for weeks without even a second thought.

  And that was why she hated th
e citizens of the upper levels, especially the Alphas who did whatever they pleased regardless of the consequences.

  Ianthe turned slowly to take in the entire room although most of it remained shrouded in darkness. She then started in surprise to find Legion sitting in the corner of the room in a large chair, completely silent and staring at her.

  Words froze in her throat because what was there for her to say?

  Legion continued to stare as he raised a wine glass to his lips and took a careful sip.

  She hesitated, completely unsure of what do with herself without explicit instructions. Somehow, she instinctively knew that she should not be the one to break the silence, that he wouldn’t like that. A draft of cold air blew across her bare legs, her skin dimpling with gooseflesh in response.

  Every instinct in her body was primed for flight, sending a tremor coursing down each muscle. She wanted to race out the door without looking back.

  Except she knew better than to run from a predator because then he would be compelled to chase her down.

  With a herculean effort, she forced herself to focus only on her own breathing to calm the rapid pace of her heart. How bad could this possibly be?

  “Take off your dress.”

  The sound of his voice, dropping like a stone on the surface of a still pond, shocked her. A shiver overtook her small body as she tried not to succumb to panic. It wasn’t until a low growl escaped his sneering lips that she realized she had failed to comply with his command.

  Stiff fingers gripped the hem of her dress. It took several tries before she finally got it over her head as the fabric kept slipping from her trembling fingers. She let it drop to the floor beside her as he watched, stone-faced.

  He rose from the table, body elongating like a serpent to rise above her. She swallowed a gasp as he slowly came to stand before her, the center of his chest level with her forehead. His shoulders were broad enough that she could not make their span even with her arms spread wide. She had to tilt her head back uncomfortably far to meet his eyes, which seemed to glow in the candlelight as he glared down at her.

  It was impossible for her not to think about how easy it would be for him to physically destroy her, wrap his large hand around her throat and snap it with ease. She hated the unfairness of the universe, that it would create such an imbalance of size and power.

  But that was it meant to be Omega, weak and powerless.

  His gaze broke from hers and she let out a gasp, unaware until that point that she had been holding her breath.

  He circled her slowly as she stared straight ahead, practically frozen in place. She felt the whispers of air on her skin as he moved, but he did not touch her.

  “Panties as well.”

  She closed her eyes, desperate for a way to separate herself from this humiliating moment but her fingers still complied. The scrap of fabric pooled at her feet and she pushed it aside with one toe.

  The low sound emanating from his chest changed in pitch, becoming softer. A muscle clenched deep in her belly. He was purring for her.

  “Use your fingers to spread your cunt, wide so that I can see it.”

  Ianthe made a choked sound in her throat, shocked at the demand. Blood rushed to her face, reddening every inch of exposed skin with her embarrassment. He had allowed her to be a barely willing participant at their last encounter and simply endure his attention. She wasn’t prepared to take a more active role.

  The purr abruptly stopped. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

  Her shaking hands moved between her legs to do what he had ordered. With clumsy fingers, she reached between her thighs and spread her folds, eyes squeezed shut in exquisite embarrassment. When one of her knuckles just barely brushed her already aching clitoris, Ianthe couldn’t hold back a moan.

  He took the few steps the would bring him back to face her, gaze locked firmly on the exposed flesh between her thighs. He knelt in one fluid movement, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply.

  The man was smelling her. She wanted to grab the back of his head and force it against her mound. The effort to resist the urge tingled painfully along her skin. She prayed to the gods who lived above the skies that he would not discover her secret, that the alterants were enough to disguise the unique flavor of an Omega’s scent.

  Need, a wholly unwanted sensation, quaked through her. Her knees trembled, and it was only sheer force of will that kept her standing as his face hovered mere millimeters from where her fingers still kept her opening exposed.

  When he spoke, sharp breath struck her most sensitive flesh. Large hands rose to grip her hips which was all that kept her standing upright. “Do you ever touch yourself here, in the dark where no one else can see?”

  “Yes, sir” she confessed, unable to offer him anything but the truth.

  “And how many other men have touched you here since I last did?”

  She wanted to lie, wanted to scream that a veritable train of men had run through her bedroom in the last week, anything to make this torture stop. But she couldn’t do it, she could not lie to him. “None, sir.”

  “You truly expect me to believe that this hungry little pussy has gone unplowed for so long. That’s difficult to believe. Look at how it weeps for me.”

  And he was right. A tiny bead of moisture already gathered at her opening as her body responded to his growled words.

  “Have you thought about when we were last together while you touched yourself?”

  Ianthe couldn’t understand why he was doing this. Alphas were supposed to take, like the savages they were, not seduce with poisoned words that turned her own body against her.

  “Yes,” she choked out, unable to stop herself.

  “Did you dream of me?”

  Her throat closed on a plaintive sound. She couldn’t respond even if he could see the answer in the tense lines of her body.

  He moved an infinitesimal distance closer until she could feel the heat of each breath he took. “Show me how you touch yourself. Show me what you want me to do to you.”

  With a soft sob, she moved one finger over the tiny nub of her clitoris, rubbing in tiny circles that left her gasping. Two fingers from the opposite hand dipped inside her slick-drenched channel, pumping in and out. Need arched through her like the sharp slice of a blade, the sensation so harsh that it bordered on painful. Only a few strokes brought her so close, a moment more would send her over the edge.

  “That’s enough.”

  Her hands stilled, frustration leaving tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

  Legion stood and took a step back. She did cry then in harsh sobbing breaths, the lack of release more than she could bear after all he had forced her to endure.

  Moving to the table, he roughly swept plates and silverware off its surface, sending it all crashing to the floor. He seemed unconcerned with the wasted food or crockery that shattered at his feet.

  The violence of it was so unexpected that Ianthe took an involuntary step backward, hands falling away from where they held her body open to press against the locked door at her back.

  “Come here. Now.” His face remained expressionless but she couldn’t miss the thread of anger in his voice.

  She walked towards him on unsteady legs, careful to avoid the shards of porcelain that littered the floor. When she was within arms’ reach, he swept her off her feet and into his arms. He clutched her against him for only a moment before pushing her face down onto the table.

  Her breasts pressed painfully hard against the wooden surface, leaving her naked backside exposed to the cool air. He came to the side of her shivering body, took both her wrists with one hand and pulled up to the edge of the table above her head until her muscles strained in protest. He turned her wrists until her palms lay flat.

  “Do not move your hands or I will tie them.”

  She gasped something that was the closest she could manage to an affirmative.

  His fingers traced the bruises on the backs of her thighs that had not
been given enough time since their last encounter to heal completely. She shuddered at the gentle caress, knowing what was about to come.

  He shifted to the other end of the table but her neck could not crane enough to follow his movements without removing her hands from the table. When her head turned to the other side, she caught his dim reflection in a mirror hanging on the far wall.

  She watched as his hands moved to the waist of his slacks and he removed his belt.

  A belt! She made a move to turn, her hands lifting slightly from the table.

  “Be still,” he said sharply.

  She froze in place, heart pounding in her chest as terror and desire warred for dominance within her. Her fingers dug into the wooden tabletop. “Please!”

  “Please what?” He lowered himself enough to kneel beside her head, seeming unconcerned with the bits of broken plate and glass that crunched underneath him. When she turned her head to face him, their eyes were level. He held the belt in one hand as it swung gently in the air. “Are you afraid?”

  A tear slid down her cheek. Wasn’t that what he was paying two thousand credits for — her fear? She nearly choked on her own words. “Yes, sir.”

  “Fear reveals us, did you know that? It is only in facing our fears that we find out who we truly are.” He paused and leaned in closer to place a gentle kiss on her tear-soaked cheek. “And I very much want to know who you really are.”

  He abruptly stood. In nearly the same moment, the belt came down. She heard the sharp whistle of it slicing through the air just before pain exploded across her backside. It hurt significantly more than any strike delivered by his hand.

  She screamed, more from shock than actual pain. And the shock came not because he had struck her, but because it only made the flame of pleasure inside her burn brighter. Her belly clenched with each strike and she could feel the growing pool of moisture that streaked her thighs.