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

by Addison Cain

  Unable to bear watching his mate be bodily dragged away, he turned his back, obeying the Omega Superior’s orders to leave at once.

  Never had he imagined he’d see that old battle-axe startled.

  ***

  There was no chance in the twelve hells that Simin would return to his rooms. He waited outside the door of the Omega sector for hours on end. At first, he’d heard his kor’yr screaming even through the thick metal portal. Caught up in the sound of her fear, he’d tried to get back in, to rush to her, but the females had wisely sealed the gate.

  And then silence.

  Even with his ear pressed to the door, he heard nothing.

  A great warrior was to be patient, but for those hours waiting, he was anything but. Pacing, sitting, standing at attention—nothing helped.

  He’d never expected Morgaine to respond as she had. Though he should have suspected when she was unimpressed, and then flat out shaking at his first offering of fine clothes. Clothes he’d had specially made in his family’s colors and crests. Clothes crafted from the finest silks and encrusted with gems worthy of a Heidron’s mate.

  She had backed away from the folded green fabric, shaking her head, as if she knew he was dressing her only to take her away from the nest.

  Flat out ignoring when he’d called her name, she’d started pointedly cleaning the nearest item she could reach… with her hair.

  Gentle as he could be, he’d forced her to stop, dressed her, and took her straight to this place that left his mate broken and sobbing.

  And now he could not even see her. Without the pair-bond, he could not feel her. Utterly at a loss, he felt an unprecedented stinging behind his eyes, and hung his head.

  Then the door opened.

  It was not his mate waiting for his attention, but a young Omega of rank—a translator by the marks on her robes.

  Abrupt, he demanded, “Tell me.”

  The woman smelled shaken in her own right, but did her best to appear calm. “Morgaine is under the belief that you have brought her to something the Nierra refer to as pleasure chambers… that you have grown bored of her and left her here to be used at will by other males willing to pay your fee. I do not think I need to describe what she anticipated would be done to her in these rooms.”

  Simin’s face went ashen. “What?”

  There was much to explain and the hall was not a proper location for what had to be shared. The Omega, her hair shorn close to her skull as a sign she refused to take a mate, led him to a small waiting room and gestured for him to sit.

  When he obeyed, she sat across from his bulk, smoothed her robes and was openly trying not to tremble. “The pleasure chambers were to be her fate for at least two years had she remained in Nierra care. In fact, it was the fate required by the male who was to have her for mate. By their law, he could not pair-bond to her until his rank had increased. After gathering powerful supporters, the weight of his claim outweighed all potential rivals. She learned of this while on display for the males already signing up for their turn. They made demands to see her body, growled to encourage her arousal against her will. She was shamed.”

  The glass cage was a bidding area? The defeated soldiers in the Nierra’s ship, the ones he’d paraded naked before to shame them with his utter lack of fear had been signing up to abuse his kor’yr? How had he not considered this? Her clothing had been there, it was the reason he knew just what waited in that cage.

  The scent of her had wafted toward him even in a sea of the enemy’s stink. For the first time in his years, he had lost composure before his men. It had taken the whole mob to drag him from the enemy’s ugly chambers.

  He’d maimed males he’d known his whole life. For this woman.

  To get to her. To care for her. To take her to his heart and tie them in a pair-bond that would be sung of throughout the ages.

  The fire in Simin’s eyes when he snarled at the wispy translator confirmed the threat. “I’ll destroy every last Nierra, see their women despoiled and make slaves of their people. As of this moment, the treaty is dust.”

  “There is more.”

  Forcing his rage to quiet so he might know everything, Simin swallowed, steadied his breath, and demanded, “Tell me.”

  The nervous habit of running her fingers through her short brown hair showed itself for the third time. “The things they taught her, that they made her watch…”

  This Omega was outside of her sanctuary, snapable neck within his reach. “Tell. Me.”

  So shaken was the woman that she failed to see the very real threat before her. “I do not even know how to describe the damage that was done, Heidron.” She closed her eyes, openly disturbed. “Morgaine has no concept of estrous. She believes a pair-bond is equivalent to sex, and that all interaction she has shared with you any Alpha could inflict on her. Before today, she had never even seen another Omega. She… was told you would mutilate and rape her.”

  Foreign women were not protected by the Omari code of honor, and such things did happen in war. In battle, any subjugate people could be taken as slaves. Once under ownership, new stock was protected from savagery. An Omari cardinal rule existed. Omegas could never be enslaved, only pair-bonded, and yes, often by force at the onset of estrous. But, from the moment the bond was established, they were considered Omari citizens under the protection and care of their mate.

  The mateless Omega before him continued. “She thinks you bite her when she’s done something wrong.”

  That could not stand. Voice unbearably sad, hardened by pent up rage, the Heidron snarled, “I mark her to reassure her that when estrous arrives I will forge the bond. It was done to make her feel safe in moments of her fear. It was done so she would know to trust me.”

  Compassion glimmered in the upturned golden eyes of the woman across from him. “We know… but that does not change our verdict.”

  Simin’s expression turned deadly. “She’s mine.”

  “She does not recognize you.”

  Rising to his feet, vibrating with the need to rend the Omega messenger limb from limb, Simin curled his lip. “I am Heidron of this fleet, your prince, and I will challenge the Omegas to have my kor’yr returned to me.”

  Brave, unflinching like the best Omari woman, the Omega stood her ground. “A handful of days ago she was taken by force from her mother. This was after years of evading the Nierra who raided her village. She fought through the pain of pre-estrous out of hatred of Alphas and love for the woman who birthed her. She suspected they would one day take her, she didn’t know why, but she knew it was only a matter of time. In punishment for hiding her daughter, the mother’s face was disfigured with a brand and Morgaine was listed as feral.” Smoothing her robes then her hair, the Omega sat back, displaying so much sadness that even the enraged Alpha took notice. “Having spoken to her, it is an apt term. She is completely wild, totally ignorant, and indeed very scared.”

  Grinding his teeth, already imagining how best to bleed this woman, Simin hissed, “Why do you think I brought her to you?”

  “We will allow you to court her for one hour each day.”

  “That is not even enough time to pleasure and knot her!”

  Standing, meeting the eyes of her king’s fifth son, she said, “Sex will not be allowed unless Morgaine initiates it.”

  They both knew that would never happen. Smoothing dark hair off his face, chest expanding in a full breath, Simin stared her down. “Until she learns our language, I have no way to communicate with her outside of physical acts. What am I supposed to do? Sit here and stare at her?”

  “You claim she is your kor’yr.” The Omega translator had done her duty, and chose to stand, leaving the room in a soft swish of robes. “Prove it.”

  Chapter 18

  “This will be your cubicle.” The woman with hair shorn as short as the men wore theirs back in her settlement, Etaine, led her forward. Eyes shaded the verdant green of new grass were framed by an expression of shame, as if the wom
an thought the huge room disgraceful. “My apologies that it is not grander. Omegas who live within these halls choose an austere life.”

  Twice as large as Morgaine’s cottage, this cubicle was full of many wondrous things. Walls that glowed just like the first ship she’d been forced to live in. But these walls were not reflective, only warm and slightly buzzing under her hand. And there was even a separate area for sanitary purposes similar in style to the one in the Alpha’s quarters, only smaller and much more comfortable.

  Because it was private.

  For sleeping, she was assigned a cot—narrow, covered in fabric—and not an open pit in the center of the room.

  The Omegas offered all this after Morgaine had clawed many of them with her nails, kicked several when they’d held her down, and even bitten one until she’d broken skin.

  It was too good to be true. Fiddling with her battle-tangled locks, Morgaine asked again, “And you’re going to let me stay? He can’t come in here?”

  “You are welcome here.” Ever patient, Etaine answered the question for the tenth time. “And no, our Heidron cannot enter. No males are allowed to pass the Omegas’ sacred golden line.”

  “It’s just a mark on the ground. What’s to stop them?”

  Her guide didn’t blink. “Those who have dared, we’ve killed. It is against every law to intrude upon Omegas gathered in their consecrated space.”

  A snort, half amused and half disbelieving, stuck in her nose. The women in this place were small like her. They were no match for an Alpha.

  An elegant brow arched over what were probably the prettiest eyes Morgaine had even seen, Etaine challenging, “You don’t believe me?”

  “I have seen Alphas do terrible things.” Cold despite the room’s gentle warmth, Morgaine shivered. “When I fought back, I lost. They made me do whatever they wanted.”

  “Our Heidron? Did he force you?”

  It was a serious question; one Morgaine was unsure how to answer. Now that it had been explained to her what Heidron stood for, desperate to remain with the Omegas and far away from their prince, she vacillated. “I don’t know.”

  And she didn’t. She’d never fought back, but that didn’t mean he had not taken liberties that had he asked, she would have refused.

  Etaine offered what Morgaine suspected was a rare smile. “I’m glad you’re with us. Not all Omegas desire Alpha attention. There are many here who understand how you feel.”

  Those words, a single shy smile, and Morgaine felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “Like you?”

  “I am proud to be Omari. Proud to be Omega. For pleasure, I enjoy the attention of worthy males, but I do not wish for a mate. My career is my calling.”

  Many considered it tedious work, but Morgaine had loved weaving. Just as she had enjoyed her garden, the chickens, and goats. “I can sew clothes. Mend for the women here.”

  “If you like.”

  But what about sunlight on her face or the feel of a brisk breeze? “He’s not going to let me go home, is he?”

  “Never. It would be impossible.” Etaine became serious, those green eyes aglow. “Be who and what you will in these rooms. Rest. Cry, if you need to. Learn. But should you cross that golden line, he will not give you up. Heidron Simin Gralloch values you highly, and has chosen you for his mate.”

  Morgaine didn’t want him. “But I can stay here?”

  “Forever, if that’s how you desire to spend your life.”

  It was a start. Smiling, Morgaine thanked the women, unsure if she was to hug her or offer a hand.

  “Get some rest. Food and supplies will be sent. I’ll come for you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yes, the Heidron is to be allowed one hour of your presence each day. I will translate.”

  Panic, stomach-cramping terror. Of course this was too good to be true. “But I thought…”

  “He brought you to us because he knew you suffered. He will wish to see that you’re doing well… and Heidron Simin desires to court you.”

  ***

  The door to Omega Sector was due to be unbarred any moment now, and on the other side, his female would be waiting. A single night without her in their nest had set his teeth on edge.

  There were no warm curves to hold close. No soft sighs as he pleasured her. There was nothing but her lingering scent to remind him that he’d ever even had her.

  When slaves were summoned to scrub his quarters, he forbid them from disturbing the nest. Morgaine’s presence must not be allowed to fade from the cushions. Burrowing in the bedding, breathing deeply of her scent was the only thing keeping him sane.

  He had already considered five different methods of tearing down the Omega Sector door, ready to barge in and demand they return her to him.

  He could cut off their air, refuse them supplies until they starved. Without crossing their fucking line, he could have her back.

  But she would hate him even more than she already must.

  The rut was working on his mind so powerfully that he thought he could even hear her soft mutterings if he closed his eyes hard enough and held a slick-stained pillow to his nose and breathed in until his lungs burned. Cock hard as an iron bar, he’d taken himself in hand. No matter how he milked his knot, there had been no relief. His balls ached, the hand working his shaft drawing out every last drop of come until he’d begun to climax dry.

  It was agony.

  Agony it would seem he deserved.

  The Omega Etaine had been ordered to compile an expedited report on all Morgaine had shared. What Simin found projected before him pushed him past rage and into an emotion he could not name.

  Flayed, stripped down to cracked bone and insignificant soul.

  He had the names of Alphas, he had their rank, knew what ship they belonged to. In time he would have their lives. But first, he needed to help his kor’yr recover.

  The best, most coveted foods were sent to Omega Sector to tempt her to eat. Fine clothes, jewels, anything a female might desire. Rare sweets.

  She needed to see that he could provide anything she might desire, to learn that as a mate she would want for nothing.

  His father once presented his wife the severed hands of an enemy tribe who had harmed her cousin. Simin would give Morgaine severed heads, the male’s flaccid cocks jammed into their mouths, all atop a tray of pure gold.

  He’d buy her the cleverest slaves to amuse her.

  If she wanted a planet, he’d give her three.

  That damn door between him and his mate finally began to open.

  Morgaine already waited for him, but hovered out of reach past the forbidden demarcation of Omega space. It didn’t matter. At least he could see her, smell her… maybe even touch her if she took just one more step forward.

  Smiling, utter relief calming the bubbling agitation that had been burning the back of his throat, Simin entered. Their eyes met, he purred, but she did not return his joy.

  Instead, she took a step backward and darted a nervous glance to the Omega with cropped hair waiting nearby.

  His nervous bride spoke, her flittering language made solid by the translator. “I have been told that you are not allowed to cross this line.”

  The damned golden tile track between them held Morgaine’s attention. Blue eyes so expressive in the throes of passion, refused to rise up and meet her mate’s after their single fleeting shared glance.

  Walking forward into a room sour with female fear, Simin rubbed at his chest where her fear stung him most. He wanted so badly to reach out and take her hand, but for his every step forward, she took another step back. “I’m not.”

  Morgaine was not adorned in any of the fine robes he sent to her, but wearing a style of dress Simin had never seen. It was plain, comprised of white fabric, and modest. “Did you make this garment?”

  “Yes, Etaine”—Morgaine glanced to the translator facilitating speech between them, smiling—“offered me some supplies.”

  “It’s ve
ry pretty.” But not what he had given her. Why was she not wearing what he had given her?

  Hinting at a blush, Morgaine smoothed her skirt. “My mother taught me to sew, to weave, and to dye fabric. It was not considered a useful skill to the Alphas. None of my skills were. But here I’ve already collected a basket of items that require mending.”

  Cutting a sharp look toward the translator—allowing the heavy, penetrating nature of that glare to speak for him—Simin flat out threatened her. Mending was the labor of slaves, not queens. But… Morgaine spoke of her work with pride.

  Furthermore, it was nice to hear about her. Daring to step forward to toe the dividing line, he coaxed, “Tell me of your talents.”

  Morgaine seemed embarrassed, cheeks turning pink as her eyes went back to the floor. “In my settlement, I was known for the quality of dyes I could produce… for fabric.”

  “And are you going to dye this dress? My household’s colors are green.” He was too eager, desperate to gain a glance. “I can find what you need… if you like. You would look beautiful in green.”

  She did not answer his offer. Speaking in a defensive tone even he could pick up without knowing her language, she carried on, “I raised fine goats and made cheese. Built houses, kept a garden. I was educated by farmers.”

  “Did you have many friends?”

  She blinked and finally raised her head. “Aren’t you going to mock me? I said farmers. I didn’t even know how to work the door panel on this ship until Etaine showed me.”

  “You are industrious and, from the amount of skill I can already see worked into your gown, talented. Ascertaining the workings of this ship will come quickly to a mind keen to learn. The universe would do well to remember the endless labor of those who live simply.”

  She didn’t know what to make of his answer, stared at him as if measuring his words and looking for the jibe.