by Addison Cain
“Well, girl.” He cocked a brow. “Tell me your thoughts.”
Her thoughts were the most dangerous topic and would never be mentioned again. Rubbing her lips together, formulating an admissible reply, she said, “It’s time for breakfast.”
This displeased Sergeant Uriel. “Describe your distress.”
“I’m hungry.”
Lower went his unconvinced brow. “What is wrong with you?”
“I didn’t sleep well.”
“Enough, Omega.” He marched to where she stood meek and submissive just as he’d trained her. “You will explain this temperament.”
The more he pushed, the more Morgaine grew certain it was all some test. If she were to slip and explain a single thought in her head, she would fail.
And her mother would be mercilessly beaten.
He was waiting for an answer and she needed to find an appropriate one. A half-truth was the best she could do. “I have a slight headache.”
In fact, her head was pounding.
“My Omega enjoys when I brush her hair.” The locks that had modestly covered her bare breasts were gathered, Sergeant Uriel rubbing the golden waves between his fingers. “Would you enjoy such attention?”
Another test? “Does an Alpha enjoy offering it?”
“There is a deep satisfaction earned in pleasing one’s mate.”
Back in the settlement, after long days laboring over a loom, her mother would comb out her hair—offering her only child comfort, compassion, and love. The manipulation of large male hands wouldn’t erase the memory, only make it more painful. “Then I would be expected to comply.”
“That is an unsatisfactory answer, Morgaine.”
Anxiety bubbled into depression. Silent tears fell, Morgaine afraid if he heard her so much as sniff, a lesson would follow. “I don’t have a mate to comb out my hair, so I cannot answer you.”
“Do you want a mate?”
She wanted her mother. Eyes red, sinuses swollen, she stared forward and strove to be obedient. “You say a mate will make me feel happy. Everyone wants to be happy.”
“What’s wrong, Morgaine?”
She shook her head and did what Sergeant Uriel had told her was her purpose. “Nothing. What would you like me to do next?”
He wiped her tears, gentle in action but stern in voice. “Stop crying.”
Quiet, she nodded… and failed.
The wet drips kept falling.
With a resigned sigh, the sergeant dropped his hands from her hair and took a step away. “This will not do, Omega.”
Scrubbing her cheeks with the back of her hand, Morgaine sniffed. “I’m trying. I swear it.”
“And I believe you.” Abandoning her to her mood, he moved away. “Eat. I will return later.”
With that last word, he disappeared, leaving her a whole day alone to sit with her thoughts. The time was spent instead in dark, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 9
Half buried under the scented furs, Morgaine barely stirred when Uriel burst in for the next day’s work.
His demeanor had altered drastically. Pensive agitation was gone, fresh determination behind his words instead. “We knew you would be feral, but having analyzed your complaints, we agree you are also under the false impression that you are not safe or cared for by our strict standards.”
Pacing back and forth, he spoke as if addressing soldiers at attention. “Every law has been followed. Every rule exacted with precision to ease your adjustment.”
Rubbing her eyes, Morgaine sat up with all the enthusiasm of a woman about to be fed to lions.
Appraising the unenthusiastic bend of her spine, he paused his march. He even bore the look of regret. “I cannot provide what you require. As such, there is only one recourse. Your belligerent temperament has altered the timeline for the selection of your mate.”
Unmoved, almost unfeeling, Morgaine asked, “Who?”
Coming to stand at the edge of the sleeping pit, Uriel frowned down upon the sad scene—an Omega who refused the comforts offered. “Despite your protests, I will no longer deny suitors from their rightful turn for physical interaction. Corporal Esin holds the greatest claim, he shall be first. Penetration will be permitted.”
Her fate was inevitable. Perhaps it was best to have it over with. “When?”
“At bedtime he will share your nest, with or without your initial cooperation. Tomorrow the next in line shall attend you, then the next, until arbitration has ended. You will acquiesce immediately if you are wise. Remember what is at stake if you… misbehave.”
Yes. They would publicly maim her mother… again.
Morgaine slumped back against the pillows, utterly defeated. “If Esin already has the greatest claim, then why draw out handing me over? Just give me to him and be done with it.”
Sergeant Uriel gestured toward the fur scraps she so pointedly refused. “Each pelt is a sampling of those who would contest his stake. As you can see, there are many soldiers to consider. Had you favored a scent from your nest, it would have altered the odds and ended arbitration more quickly. You have not done so.”
There was a way to have a different outcome? Shooting up to her knees, Morgaine grabbed at the furs, holding a bunch up to her nose to sniff. “What if I favor one now?”
Crossing his arms over a barrel chest, Uriel scowled, entirely unamused. “It would be an illegitimate response. Had you recognized the scent of the most compatible male, you would not have scattered the fur away and tried your best to sleep uncovered despite modification to the room’s temperature.”
There was nothing to say, nothing that Alphas might listen to. Six days with these males and Morgaine knew ugly nursery rhymes were correct. Being born Omega was far worse than any evil.
Shaking his head at her stubborn silence, he warned, “You continually reject Alpha attention, are unaccustomed to adult urges—that will change quickly with this new curriculum.” Reaching down, he took her hand and urged her from the bed. “Sexual release accelerates acceptance. You cannot know what it is Corporal Esin offers you, and so your fear is misplaced.”
She knew what he offered. Every last muscle was still sore after what he’d done the day before.
The hollow feeling in her chest rattled with the deep vibrations the older man confidently projected. His purr might have been unwelcome, but the rumble was enough to allow her ribs to fully expand. Breath brought color to pale cheeks.
This was the submission they desired.
“Where I come from, being forced to have sex with strangers would see you executed by Alphas when they invaded to steal your crops and livestock.”
Not a single flicker of compassion was to be found in Sergeant Uriel. Cold discipline, the true hardness of a tried and tested warrior—he was unmoved. “There is no Alpha on this ship who would cause you pain. All they want to offer is pleasure. Corporal Esin is no different. The decision is out of your inexperienced hands. As with all Omegas I have trained, you will thank me once you’ve grasped what a knot might bring you.”
Even though she offered no resistance, Morgaine was dragged by her elbow to the table. Once seated, a plate was piled high.
“You will need your strength today. Eat.”
The Omega swallowed the food Uriel had chosen for her without tasting a bite. Afterward, a bath was ordered, tonics given to be swallowed that he claimed would cheer her. For the first time ever, the sergeant stood over her as she soaked. He ordered she clean under her nails, lather her hair with soap, oil it with a slimy unguent left in a jar by the rim.
All the water drained.
“I did not command you to rise.”
Half out of her seat, the soggy girl hesitated. She always hated this part, being wet and naked before an audience. But at least today the audience was not Corporal Esin.
Eyes on Uriel’s boots, Morgaine rearranged herself and kept her eyes downcast. Wet hair lay plastered over her breasts. Legs together, hands in her lap to cover as much of he
r secret place as possible.
“Before we prepare for today, I have news for you.”
Chin still tucked, she glanced up under her brows and waited for this news.
The Alpha looked pleased with himself, as if expectant to see her smile by what he would share. “Your genetics were run through our database to assure that none who offered for you were a blood relation.”
Unsure how to answer, Morgaine lifted her brows.
“During this process, your patriarch was also discovered.” Sergeant Uriel extended his arm, so she might obediently take his fingers. As she did, he added with a smile, “The Alpha in question was executed this morning.”
“Executed?” Her mouth fell open, her foot missed the mark, and Morgaine’s heel slipped on the tile.
Before she could do more than tangle her legs and bruise a shin, Sergeant Uriel caught her. He hauled her out and stood her far enough away from the ledge to prevent another accident. Steadying the girl, frowning, he said, “As I told you before, Alphas protect Beta settlements. Such a grievous breach of protocol had to be answered for. All are safe from him now. This should please you.”
She had never thought of the male who’d fathered her as a real person. Even her mother had never spoken of it. Morgaine had only learned of such a thing from cruel neighborhood gossip. As a child she had questioned why her mother had been shunned, why she had no friends beyond her aunt.
It had been Hanna who had told Morgaine she was an Alpha’s bastard when her boy had decided to play in their yard. She had said it as if letting her son play chase was the most magnanimous offering she might make as a neighbor.
Her mother had never complained, but there had been far-reaching consequences. No man in the settlement had asked for Elizabeta’s hand, no matter her sweet smile or skill with needle and thread.
She was tainted in their eyes.
But they had one another. Their lives were quiet and happy, with no need of outside interference.
And though they had avoided her mother, the same neighbors had never been cruel to her. In harsh winters, no one went hungry. When her aunt’s body had been found swinging from the rafters, many had come to offer solace.
As far as parentage, for all Morgaine knew, her mother had been a willing participant the day she was conceived.
And now her father was dead. Did he even know why? Had he too watched Esin rub between her legs?
Guilt, disgust, and shame left the Omega white as a sheet. Morgaine knew she had to answer, had to give Sergeant Uriel something or else a punishment might follow, so she muttered. “Alphas keep Betas safe.”
Uriel was pleased, a smile in his eyes. “Well done, girl. You are learning.”
She was learning. Every day she learned Alphas were closer to monsters than men. “What is my lesson today? Shall I sit in the chair and watch the screen?”
“No.” Genuinely exultant, Uriel took her by the elbow and offered clothing. “Today we leave this room so that you can be introduced to those in the fleet with an interest in knowing you better.”
Chapter 10
It took less than ten steps outside her room for Morgaine to discover that the Alphas’ ship was incredible. In contradiction to her smooth-walled prison, the halls were etched, carved with jagged geometric shapes unlike anything she had seen in the settlement. Light seemed to emanate from the very metal—each glowing panel appearing warm to the touch. But the instant her fingers reached out to explore, her wrist was caught in a vise.
“Eyes forward, Morgaine. This is no place for an Omega to linger.”
But why? After all those days tucked away, with the first inkling of excitement she’d felt since waking up in the sleeping pit, why could she not enjoy this? “I thought—”
“Don’t think. Walk.” Her guardian was stiff, marching her forward with an air of menace he’d never displayed, even at his angriest in her room.
What happened to the reserved authority figure?
This aggressive warden—who held her wrist in a harsh pinch and yanked her to keep pace with his relentless gait—wasn’t the aloof Sergeant Uriel he portrayed in private. Proof again that Alphas were never what they seemed.
Murderers, thieves, rapists… liars.
Trotting in an effort to keep up with the larger man, Morgaine knew better than to complain. After all, he was dragging her to meet potential suitors, and had already told her that when it was time for rest, Corporal Esin would be allowed to do more than use her hand to give himself pleasure.
No matter her feelings on the subject, Esin was going to rape her. Thrust over her flattened body like the Alpha she’d watched rutting the Omega on-screen.
Bunching shoulders, pinned wrists… slick or no, no matter what Sergeant Uriel claimed, Morgaine would never welcome such attention.
The man had ordered her mother’s face to be branded. The same man treated her as his plaything.
Act in any way these Alphas might term as insolent? She would face lessons.
Mention her mother? Earn herself a caning and her mother a public whipping.
Walk too slow? Her arm would be yanked so hard her shoulder ached.
Stay silent? Be rebuked for not speaking.
Speak? Dark looks and castigation for failing to amaze.
They murdered a stranger because of one retort spoken in anger…
These Alphas didn’t want Morgaine at all. They wanted the part of her Uriel referred to as a cunt. A cunt that dripped slick and was attached to a machine that made noises and did as it was told.
In the settlement, women did not leave their hair uncovered. They certainly didn’t let men touch them without permission.
Rape was punishable by immediate execution.
Not here. Here Alphas did as they pleased.
Walking down those glittering corridors, Morgaine let that concept sink in. Don’t think. Walk.
Don’t complain. Obey.
You are no longer a person. You are property.
It did not even matter that their pace had left her flimsy garment loose, her left breast bouncing free of its covering. Not one of the males in the halls or galleries cared her modesty was gone or her hair flowed free and loose.
Don’t live. Serve.
“Morgaine, pay attention. I’ll not say it again.” Pulling her to an abrupt stop, Sergeant Uriel turned on his charge and gave her a look that said now was not the time to misbehave.
Winded from the effort to keep up, feet aching from pounding against cold floors, Morgaine curled her toes and tried to catch her breath. “What?”
He did not release a frustrated sigh, but his glare alone made it seem Sergeant Uriel greatly desired to. Shoulders back, neck tense, he stood as if on display for the multitude of Alphas milling about the gallery.
It was them—the soldiers in their vermilion armor edging nearer—that had made him this way. Without thinking, immensely nervous to see so many eyes on her, Morgaine toed back a step. Uriel’s tightening grip made retreat impossible. Staring at his face as he scanned the waiting crowd, the tense lines, the way his lip curled… the threatening growls offered to any who dared approach—she understood that she was prey in a room of circling predators. And only Uriel’s snarls kept the beasts at bay.
There is no Alpha on this ship who would cause you pain. All they want to offer is pleasure.
These males didn’t seem to have interest in her well-being, smirking, and glowering, and tasting the air.
“They are not permitted to touch you.” Sergeant Uriel passed her into a glass enclosure, so small that any position other than standing would be almost impossible. “Present yourself for their inspection. Explain your situation and special handling.”
She knew what he wanted her to say… what she was supposed to announce to all who showed interest, and frowned.
As if reading her closed expression and the taciturn intent of her thoughts, he amended, “Answer their questions. Show them your beauty and qualities. Behave.”
; Locking the entrance, Uriel stepped back and signaled that introductions could begin.
Surrounded in glass, males on all sides with nowhere to hide, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of Alphas were given their chance to approach and look upon her.
She was an item on display in the ship’s main gallery, males stopping by to stare, to mark the tally with potential bids, and to handle an array of her used clothing. Clothing that Uriel had laid out after she’d been locked away. Even the filthy dress she was abducted in was fought over by the masses, lifted to the noses of strangers, each eyeing her as if she were to be devoured.
Before he’d left, Uriel reminded her to stand and be seen, to look at them, to answer their questions. Morgaine had not lasted ten minutes after his departure before she was crouched upon the floor, hiding her head in her knees.
She was discussed as if she wasn’t there. “Why does it look unhappy?”
“According to her record, this Omega has yet to be knotted. It needs release.” Someone banged his knuckles on the glass. “Omega, lift your head so we might see you.”
She’d jumped at the taps, lifting red-rimmed eyes and setting them upon yet another stranger in vermilion armor. He looked like all the others, overly large, intimidating, and entitled. “My name is Morgaine. I have been ordered to tell you that I am feral. As of this morning I learned a feral designation necessitates I be separated from the regular female population for at least two years. I will require specific training.” Like a dog. Her voice caught in her throat, Morgaine on the verge of tears. “It is suggested my future mate mount me multiple times a day, otherwise I might regress.”
There were many males gathered, more stepping closer as she began to speak, only one of them asked, “Are you okay, Omega? I have never seen one of your kind cry.”
She had been warned by Uriel that tears in front of potential mates were unacceptable, but she could not stop them from falling. The only thing she could do was lie in an effort to appease. “I am lonely. A mate will rectify this flaw in my character.”
