The Golden Line: An Omegaverse Dark Romance (Knotted Book 1)

by Addison Cain

  There had been no love in any Alpha action Morgaine had ever seen. Even this one had already threatened her, yanked at her hair, and made demands. That’s all Alphas did: take and harm.

  They didn’t know how to love.

  But they knew how to strip a sleeping girl naked, terrorize, and show her things that would give her nightmares for years. Revolted, Morgaine choked out, “Did you force the woman you love to watch that?”

  Sergeant Uriel reached for a pitcher, poured a glass of water, and pressed it to Morgaine’s lips. “It was not a lesson she required.”

  Teeth chattering, cold and unable to stop shaking, Morgaine refused to swallow the offered water. He tipped the glass. When she began to sputter and water ran down her chin, he gripped her hair in his fist again.

  He didn’t pull; he just made it clear he would correct her if he had to. “You will drink this water.”

  Their eyes met, inflexible yet equally forgiving, and Morgaine knew she’d lost whatever battle had just taken place.

  She would lose all battles. He wanted her to know that.

  He wanted submission.

  And it felt like that was worse than death.

  Again, she started to cry.

  The Alpha’s purr increased significantly. His point had been made, and the slump of her shoulders was concession enough. He refilled the glass and lifted it to her lips a second time.

  She didn’t fight him, let herself be lulled by the purr enough to manage the rapid gulps required before he might tip the glass back further and drown her in it. Once drained, he pulled it away, and set it on the table.

  Sucking in air, Morgaine stared. Sergeant Uriel was old enough to be her father. Gray marked the brown hair at his temples, there were creases on his face, and the hands that had touched her were callused from years of use. This was a man hard through and through.

  And yet he purred.

  Morgaine wilted under his unflinching gaze. Hopeless, exhausted, and scared, she whispered, “I want to go home.”

  He ran a pat over her tangled hair and held back any cruelty as he asked, “After what you just saw, knowing that would be your fate?”

  Her eyes closed and she shuddered, shrinking further into herself. Of course she didn’t want that. Even now she saw the mass grave and it was as if the faces in it were people she knew, grew up with, loved.

  Pathetic, Morgaine could not help but call for the one thing that might make it all go away. “I want my mother.”

  The weight of his hand left her hair, just as the gentleness left his voice. Gruff he said, “Soon you will have a mate. A night with him and your mother will be forgotten.” The Alpha straightened, pointing at the table before her. “Now you will eat. When you have finished, bathe yourself in that corner over there. If these two things have not taken place by the time I have returned, there will be another lesson.”

  Chapter 4

  The bizarre toilet, the deep, gilded tub—both items of such a personal nature were exposed to the room.

  No screen, no curtain… they were just there out in the open.

  Sergeant Uriel had warned her, presented two clear commands, and then he had taken his purr and his presence away. Curled in on herself, she had not even seen where he’d gone.

  Having slid from the chair the moment the weight of his hand had left her back, she’d crouched down on the floor, trying to make herself as small as possible.

  Lessons.

  Her mind would break if another lesson had to be endured.

  That poor Omega. From what Morgaine had seen, the girl had done no evil. Evil had been done to her.

  Why? Why would her townsfolk commit such a heinous act?

  The questions came out unbidden, muttered brokenly to the air the same way Morgaine had prayed to the spirits. And just like when she prayed to the spirits, no answer came.

  The only response she received was the room growing colder.

  Skin prickling no matter how she ran her hands up and down her arms, she began to shiver, and would have given anything for a blanket.

  Naked, utterly exposed to an empty room, feeling the cold seep into her bones… was messing with her head.

  She let out a frustrated breath and saw fog hang in the air before her eyes. Seeing the mist dissipate, knowing the room had been made cold on purpose, pushed her over the edge.

  “Help!” There was no door in the room to bang upon, the frantic Omega scrambling off the floor in search of a way out. All the walls were smooth, unchanging, and icy to the touch. “Please, anyone. HELP ME! I need to get back to my mother!”

  She banged on the reflective surface, she begged.

  Silence.

  Growing colder by the second, her teeth began to chatter. Arms tight around her middle, she understood there were only two options: the odd sunken bed full of smelly bits of fur, or the exposed tub that had miraculously begun filling itself.

  Twirling steam rose from the surface, beckoning her to step into the heated water and find comfort.

  Eat, the Alpha had ordered. Then bathe, he had said.

  Do these things or suffer another lesson.

  Crying in earnest, her attention went to the table.

  Legs heavy enough to be weighted with sand, carried her to it. Her naked rear set upon an embroidered cushion. It was a pretty chair, one that could have been stolen from one of the finer houses in her settlement. Morgaine would have preferred the polished wooden seats that her mother had provided in their simple cottage—just as she would have preferred the smell of fresh baked bread to the rich dishes lain out before her.

  The tears had dried up as she looked over the spread, or maybe they had frozen on her cheeks. Even the panic seemed to have grown ice cold.

  Numb, inside and out, she made herself reach out for the nearest piece of food. A bite of sweet sliced fruit hit her tongue, but all she could think of was blood and parts of a man that had drawn that blood.

  Ugly parts.

  Parts that she’d witnessed just moments ago spurting grotesque fluid on the face of that dead girl.

  Morgaine threw up every bite.

  Less concerned about her body’s rejection of the food, and more concerned about looming punishment, she forced her head up and looked around like a spooked animal for the predator she knew was hiding in the shadows.

  Except this room had no shadows. That odd glowing light came from everywhere and illuminated everything.

  Certain she would be punished for the mess she’d made, Morgaine gave up. It was as if something else controlled her limbs, some sort of self-preservation forcing her to act. She stood, took a beleaguered step forward, and then another one.

  The toilet was there.

  First she vomited into it. Then, glassy eyed, she’d sat on the rim and tried to pee.

  She couldn’t squeeze out a drop.

  The lights dimmed.

  Urine splattered inside the bowl, as if a silent voice had commanded and her body had obeyed.

  She staggered from her throne to the steaming tub.

  Like the cushion and fur-filled sleeping pit, the tub was sunken into the ground and ornately decorated. An array of blue tiles, the patterns of flowers vining through the mosaic, warm soothing water...

  Morgaine knew it was a lie.

  Not one thing in this room had offered comfort in any measure: not the bed, not the food, not the strange toilet or this steaming pool.

  The water began to swirl and offer up frothy bubbles.

  Too cold to be properly startled, her only reaction was the insignificant widening of her eyes.

  Rooms were supposed to have doors.

  Tubs should not fill themselves.

  Walls should not show horrors.

  Was this hell?

  Is this what she’d brought upon herself for lying to the village?

  As if the room could read her thoughts, the very wall that had terrified her only moments before transformed in a rippling blur. In place of rape and murder, Morgaine wa
s given a window. From corner to corner, the space displayed verdant forest. Even the air grew warmed by a soft wind and the chirp of birds.

  Technology of this sort this did not exist in her settlement.

  Wise enough to know there were no birds singing, no tree branches bending to soft breezes, she frowned at the view. It was nothing compared to forests, to real trees. The image, in its entirety, was an insult.

  Gorge yourself on food most likely stolen from your settlement. Bathe, hair uncovered, like a whore.

  Or watch more horrors…

  There was no question.

  Lowering her body into the steaming water, Morgaine kept her eye on that false view of the forest. She sank like a stone until the water hit her chin.

  The heat stung limbs that had grown ice cold. It hurt.

  She wanted it to hurt.

  The tub whirled, streams of steam mixing with soap until more bubbles covered the surface.

  The scent was not to her taste. The instant she wrinkled her nose, she would have sworn it altered. What had been roses became herbal... tolerable.

  Nausea slowly subsided. Extreme exhaustion took its place.

  Drawing a deep breath, she let her head slip beneath the water, listening to the churn and slosh until her lungs began to burn. She wanted to stay like that, in her own underwater world until her heart stopped.

  But the tub began to drain on its own.

  Her momentary sanctuary was stolen away.

  Dripping wet, she sat in the empty bath and hung her head in her hands.

  She recognized that the tub wasn’t for comfort. It might be pretty, it might have smelled pleasant, but its purpose was for her to listen and obey.

  To be clean because Sergeant Uriel had ordered it.

  To be trapped within flower mosaic tiles because there was no towel and nowhere to hide.

  She had not been able to get out, but he had found a way in. She’d heard the bootsteps, could smell who’d come to invade and stand in triumph over her.

  Morgaine did not give him the honor of lifting her head or even addressing his presence.

  The intruder began to purr.

  Still, she refused to raise her neck and meet his eye. What was the point? “Is this what you had in mind when you claimed you knew what would make me feel better? Leaving me naked, wet, shamed, and frightened? Whatever punishment your people have decided I have coming, just get it over with.”

  An unwelcome hand came to rest on the top of her head. Voice just as gruff as she remembered from her cottage, said, “That is not an appropriate way to address an Alpha.”

  Disgusted that he would touch her, Morgaine squeezed her eyes shut. “Uriel? Was that his name, the one managing my transition?”

  He corrected, “Sergeant Uriel.”

  Digging the heels of her palms against her lids, she pressed until she saw stars, and said, “Sergeant Uriel said only you could tell me what became of my mother.”

  “Look at me.”

  It was a gentle command, one Morgaine supposed was intended to entice. But that was not why she raised her head. She did it because her heart was breaking, and she needed to know her mother lived.

  The man who had fondled her breasts in her home, who had threatened the person she loved most, who had dragged her away as if he had the right, smiled.

  Unlike Sergeant Uriel, he no longer wore the vermilion armor. He was dressed in knit fabric that stretched across his chest yet left his arms bare. Loose pants hung from his waist, held up with what looked to be no more than a drawstring. Casual.

  At her attention, the soldier tried to soften the harshness of his craggy voice with gentle speech. “My name is Corporal Esin.”

  There was only one name that mattered in this moment. “My mother’s name is Elizabeta. Your friend held her by the neck when you threatened to burn her alive. And then… I couldn’t see what was done to her.”

  He stroked her head, seemingly distracted by the way her curls hung limp while weighted with water.

  Wary, angry, scared, Morgaine whispered, “Please tell me she’s okay.”

  Brown eyes met hers. Clear and concise he answered, “Her face was branded for treason.”

  It was like a knife in the heart. Throwing off the hand that played with her hair, daring to raise an expression full of hate toward the very soldier who had stolen her from her house, Morgaine spat on the man kneeling at the edge of the tub.

  Indifferent, Corporal Esin wiped her spittle from his cheek. “It was the most lenient punishment I could offer. Considering the offense, she should have been executed… not paid as handsomely as she was for the trouble. Be glad she still lives and has a fortune to see to her comfort.”

  Blood boiling, Morgaine drew up and hissed, “If I ever find a way to brand your face in exchange for what you’ve done, I will do it. Better yet, I’d rather see you dead.”

  Her threat made his smile fade, and the Alpha’s expression grew dark. “If you continue to speak this way, I will be forced to act, and you will not like the outcome.”

  Morgaine was so very tempted to scream at him, to strike him, but her tongue grew fat and all that came were silent, angry tears.

  Rising from his crouch, he offered her a hand. “Step from the tub.”

  Not only did she balk at the thought of touching him, the thought of him seeing her bared breasts and mound was more than she could handle. She shook her head and shrank further away.

  “It was not a request, Morgaine. Get up so that you might be dried.”

  She swallowed, eyes showing every ounce of her trepidation and humiliation. “It is not right for you to ask such a thing or look at me this way.”

  “Because you are naked?”

  Nodding, she added the other cause for concern. “And you are purring. It’s only done when a male is... interested. I don’t want to—”

  He finished the sentence for her. “You don’t want to be mounted.”

  Before this horrid day, she’d never heard sex described that way. Mounted, climbed over, held down—her mind filling with images of what happened to the Omega on the wall... the writhing bodies... the screams.

  If he tried to do such a thing, she would die.

  He extended his hand even further. “I have not been given clearance to penetrate you today.”

  If Corporal Esin thought to offer reassurance, he’d failed. Morgaine did not know what was hidden in his statement, but it certainly was not a comforting thing to hear. “Today?”

  “There is much that must be explained, and I refuse to have this conversation while you are dripping wet and shivering. Come out of the tub or I will climb in and get you.”

  What dignity was there in being dragged out like a child? None. There was none.

  Breaking her eyes from his, she turned her face to the wall, covered her breasts with her arm, her mound with her free hand, and tried not to cringe when he put his hands on her body to help her manage the steps.

  After pulling her to stand atop an absorbent mat, he produced fabric softer than the finest weave her mother had ever produced. Starting with her cheeks, blotting the tears, Esin wielded his huge hands deftly and with caution... until he reached her breasts.

  She refused to budge her arm.

  So much stronger than her, he took a solid grip of her wrist, and forced her shield from her chest.

  Every muscle in her body went stiff. The arm he held shook, her breath grew shallow, and she was moments away from screaming for help.

  Purring all the louder, his eyes tracked over the swell of a generous bosom. “You are a pretty one, renegade.”

  Towel forgotten, he measured the weight of her right breast. His fingers pawed and explored, a determined thumb swirling her nipple.

  Seeing that pink flesh grow tight, his breath caught, voice husky from excitement. “Tell me, has another male touched you this way?”

  There had been caresses from boys in the village, a few stolen kisses, but none would have dared to grab her b
reasts. The fact a stranger was doing it now, that he still held her captive by one arm, was mortifying. “You mean without permission?”

  The corner of his lip ticked upward. He was not at all ashamed. “Upon your initial examination your hymen was found partly ruptured before it was removed for your future comfort—”

  She abandoned boring a hole in the wall with her eyes, slack-jawed. “What?”

  “Here.” He moved the towel to her mound, tapping where she pressed her legs together as if to block his view. “Your hymen.”

  She knew what a hymen was, and could not believe that some stranger had examined her close enough between her legs to see it.

  Face turning red with a blend of fury and embarrassment, trying to think up something worthy to shriek, Morgaine was silenced by the Alpha’s next probe. “Have you touched yourself there? Slipped your fingers into your body? Did you use a tool to stimulate yourself? Or was it a Beta’s attentions that damaged the membrane?”

  “That is none of your business!”

  “Actually, it is very much my business.”

  This was not to be borne. Degraded, Morgaine sneered and tried her damnedest to appear as undesirable as possible. “I have lain with many of the boys in my village.”

  Her answer amused him, Esin grinning. “Boys? Not men?”

  “Uhh.” Awkward in her reply, Morgaine fumbled. “I meant men. Lots of men.”

  “And you are lying.” Chuckling, he ogled her body, tracing the embarrassed flush on her breasts. “You have never been with a boy or a man... let alone many of them. It was your own fingers that did the damage. Either that, or your age thinned it in preparation of your first estrous.”

  Of course she had explored that part of her body in the dark, but only a few times when her mother was out of their small one-roomed dwelling. And this brute had the gall to laugh at her? “How would you feel if I asked you intimate questions about your body?”

  Eyes instantly smoldering, Esin licked his lips. “You can ask me anything. Anything you want.” He drew closer, the towel falling from his hands so he might grip the nip of her waist. “Ask to see my body. Ask to touch me.”