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

by Addison Cain

  “Tell me of your friends.” Simin gave her a smile, the kind he used to win over his mother and steal treats as a child. “Tell me about your homeland. I want to know about my kor’yr.”

  A ghost of a smile changed Morgaine’s face from pinched to considering. “My friends… well, I used to have many friends. As I got older, it grew difficult.”

  And one could easily sort out the reason. “Because you are Omega and the males wanted to be more than your friend?”

  “I suppose…” Shaking her head and seemingly lost in thought, Morgaine confessed, “We had nursery rhymes about Omegas. It was not a thing anyone would want to be.”

  She was wrong. “To be born Omega is a blessing!”

  Simin’s passion behind his outburst did not impress her. She took another step back, lower lip beginning to tremble. “What do you know of it? It is terrible, and now that I’ve seen what happened to Esmerelda I understand why.”

  “Who?”

  Etaine explained, sparing Morgaine from repeating what she’d confessed she’d been forced to watch. She told him of the lesson, of the bodies, how it had been her first time seeing a naked male. About the blood and fluids and nightmares.

  Every last cell in his body urged him to step forward and go to his mate. Instead Simin retreated one step. Breathing heavily, reeking of anger, he put a hand to his eyes. “That was not Esmerelda’s fault. How could she know the risks of estrous if she didn’t know what she was? If anything, it was the fault of the Betas for a lack of self-control. But ultimately the blame is on the Alphas who created a situation in which such a thing might happen in the first place.”

  Morgaine went still, met his eyes, and had no words.

  Simin had words. Many, many words in fact. “The Alphas showing you these things were employing psychological warfare. It’s a common tactic used to twist enemy populations’ thinking into the aggressor’s design. It simplifies invasion.”

  Muttering, the golden-haired girl said, “They told me Alphas loved Omegas, that they existed to protect them. That all of it was for my own good.”

  The look on her face gutted him. Simin needed to hold her, but could offer only a purr. “They lied to you.”

  “I know. Otherwise they would not have threatened to whip my mother if I continued to disobey.” Morgaine nodded, and looked utterly sad. “They never loved me at all.”

  Eager, Simin stood tall, reached out a hand in hopes she take it, and proclaimed, “I love you, kor’yr.”

  His movement sent her skittering back. “You don’t know me!”

  It had not been near an hour, but Morgaine turned around and rushed away from the prince who was contemplating risking death just to embrace her.

  Chapter 19

  Powerless to stop her, Simin could do nothing but watch Morgaine rush out of sight. To say that their first meeting in this place had not gone as he’d hoped was a laughable understatement. He’d frightened her off even though he’d bared himself to ridicule by announcing a public declaration of his adoration.

  Many prized Omari Omega mates went an entire lifetime without hearing so much as an I love you from their Alphas. Affection was demonstrated with action, with the quality of offerings and attention.

  Devotion was demonstrated with attentive and vigorous fucking.

  Never words.

  Rumor would spread that he had bluntly declared his heart and she had denied his offering. Many of his men would snicker. Some might outright challenge him for weakness.

  Simin did not care. He cared that he had frightened her.

  He cared that she was distrusting of men, that the enemy had cheapened the power of that monumental word. And that wherever she’d gone to hide, that she was surely crying.

  Because of him.

  Riddled with frustration, with the undeniable effects of the rut—with a throbbing cock that would not lie down no matter how he abused it—he turned on the translator, vicious, angry, and… disappointed.

  Had the short-haired Omega been wiser, she too would have retreated beyond the dividing line. Instead she straddled it. Easy prey.

  Looking to her prince and not the retreating Omega, Etaine offered an appropriate bow. “My Heidron.”

  Biting back the roar already trying to rip from his chest, he grabbed her arm, and hauled her away from that blasted line. “Where are the gifts I sent her? Why is it that you provided her clothing?”

  “Omega Superior ordered the clothing you sent be stacked neatly away. It will be offered in due time, but right now? She needs familiarity. Morgaine craves a purpose and to show others her worth.” Trapped arm hitched so high her shoulder brushed her ear, bruising in her prince’s crushing grip, Etaine kept her face composed.

  But it was the scent wafting from her collar that failed to support her collected demeanor; the Omega was nervous, and for good reason. Before her was a furious Alpha. A Heidron, no less. Capable and angry enough to end her in every way, and she was the one responsible for delivering news that would displease.

  “The Nierra took much from her. You won’t replace abused pride with fine fabrics and wealth she does not comprehend.” Breath hitching as if the pain had reached a threshold she could no longer pretend to ignore, she hissed, “There was more progress here than you recognize.”

  Lowering his face so Etaine might see his snarling mouth and feel his breath on her face, Simin grumbled, “Doubtful.”

  Under his grip the woman’s arm twitched, her brow furrowing as she tried to maintain composure. “Her hair was uncovered, Heidron. In Morgaine’s settlement, women only leave their hair uncovered in the presence of family, intimate friends, and to impress mates.”

  Golden hair had spilled around the shoulders of his pretty kor’yr. There had even been a few small braids worked into all those waves. And she had preened when he’d complimented the dress…

  That small bit of knowledge doused Simin’s ire. He released the female.

  To Etaine’s credit, she didn’t rub her arm or scamper back. Like the soldier her robes declared she was, she stood her ground and offered more. “She cannot abide raw meat.”

  The finest meat was always served raw. To cook it would destroy the delicate balance of flavors. “Explain.”

  “Their livestock carried parasites, and Morgaine’s people were never given the technology to sterilize food or water beyond cooking or boiling. That is why your offerings were replaced with plain dishes common to her people. Simple cheese, boiled oats. The look of relief on her face to be served something other than rich dishes spoke to the Omega Superior’s judgment.”

  Slave food.

  They were feeding a princess, a woman who would outrank all of them by a ridiculous degree, slave food. And they were in the right. He might not like it, but Simin understood the wisdom here. “And you say this pleased her?”

  “As did making the dress. She worked on it all night so she might wear it today.” Etaine was obviously impressed under that stoic expression. “I wish half my team was as focused as your kor’yr.”

  That Etaine had called Morgaine his kor’yr earned her a minor pardon in his eyes. Pride thrumming from her slipped phrasing, Simin crossed his arms over his chest. “And what other wisdom has your Omega Superior deigned apply to my female?” More content which each passing moment, he teased, “Are you having her sweep the floors?”

  “She is uncomfortable with the concept of slaves and already declared she would clean her cubicle. But do not worry, the Omega Superior will not allow her unconventionality to extend beyond her private room. She will be taught Omari ways.”

  Simin had researched this woman, her military file, her family, who she preferred to take for lovers. “Nierra Psychological Operations translation team lead. You work under Senior Alpha Bishop Amsqin. Do you enjoy that assignment?”

  Etaine hesitated, features pinched as if she anticipated a threat to her position. “Yes. PSYOP is very fulfilling. Amsqin’s team influences enemies’ choices, plants ideas in adversa
ries’ heads, alters perceptions and persuades outcomes. I believe our work was the cornerstone of our latest Nierra overthrow. They surrendered with practically no military engagement. And if you’re asking if I am the only Omega onboard who speaks Morgaine’s language, the answer is yes. All other translators are Beta males.”

  “Sounds as if I have an expert on hand to help my mate recover; to lead her transition to this new position.”

  A tick came to her jaw, the tick of an Omega who he knew was tempted to point out that Morgaine was not his mate yet. Not until estrous. Not until claiming marks had been made, and certainly not if she never left these rooms. Or maybe that tick was because Etaine understood exactly what he was not so subtly hinting at. A PSYOP operative knew the fundamentals of encouraging the enemy to do as she wished, to winning them over, to mentally repositioning them, as it were. He outright expected her to employ those skills and manipulate the girl. “Sir.”

  “I expect you to tell me exactly what my kor’yr requires. I will provide it, not the old woman. And I expect you to correct my mistakes in our communication.”

  “You want my advice on how to woo your female?” Such a thing was unheard of; embarrassing for both parties.

  Humiliation was nothing to a lifetime without his mate. “Yes.”

  “I’ll”—gnawing her lip as she considered, Etaine took steps toward the safety of the golden line—“send suggestions when I update today’s report.”

  There would be only one acceptable outcome to this arrangement. Though patient and eager to see her happy, Simin was waging a war. War against an ugly, painful history. War against the women who did not trust him enough to release his mate to him. War against his own expectations. “She’ll find her way back to her mate, and should she get lost, you will gently nudge her back onto the path.”

  Etaine didn’t look so sure. Out of his reach, once again in the sanctified space where Simin might not touch her, the Omega translator said what Simin feared the most. “She is very young, sir. Even with constant suggestion, Morgaine might not be ready to mate.”

  “Then I will wait, and meet with her in this blasted hall for one blessed hour of each day until she is.”

  Chapter 20

  Simin Gralloch, Heidron of the fleet, had groomed his hair and left it loose instead of bound at the nape. He had dressed in the leathers of a warrior broadcasting his prowess, displaying battle scars and warning all who saw the swath of oiled flesh of his tried and tested skill. Unarmored to show potential combatants he was fearless, he came bearing gifts.

  This was how she had first seen him. This was how she should know him, just as he would learn to know her on her odd Nierran terms.

  Uncovered hair was a sign of flirtation. Well, his was flowing down his back, combed to a shine by his own hand. Not a single slave had been invited to prepare him. He had bathed himself, prepared himself, and milked his cock three times before their meeting so the damned beast might lie down behind the breechcloth.

  Etaine’s suggestions had been… terrible. The female was not feminine at all.

  What kind of woman would suggest offering flowers? They would only die in a day or two. Flawless rubies though, there were so many things that could be done with precious stones.

  In an effort to gain at least a little headway, there was a bunch of wilting petals on the tray, dotted with fat rubies to catch her eye. And in the middle of the offering was what he had spent the morning preparing: a pot of gruel and the burnt nutcake Simin had made himself.

  After all, it was the duty of an Alpha to feed his mate, prepare meals to an extent, even hunt fresh meat when near a planet that boasted worthy game. But to bake… to stir and season… this was the work of slaves.

  She enjoyed slave work. He would try to please her.

  Burnt fingers aside, he was determined to impress the woman standing out of reach, wearing the same white dress.

  Though today, the dress boasted a bit more detail than the day before. A collar had been sewn on, the sleeves embellished into gathered folds. Even the skirt’s silhouette had gone from a shapeless drape that covered her well-formed legs to something that nipped in at a curved waist.

  Morgaine looked less like a woman in a shapeless sack and more like a seamstress displaying her work.

  Simin took notice, running his eyes from her hidden toes to her glorious hair, he took his time studying what she presented, keeping his expression light and his smile pleased. He then forced his tongue around her strange words, performing the only phrase he’d learned. “Good afternoon.”

  It sounded appalling, tripping from his tongue, but blue eyes came alive. Shy smile on her lips, Morgaine repeated the pleasantry.

  Hearing her form the words, Simin realized he’d said it wrong, but that was not what mattered. The Omega was impressed with his effort.

  “Those are the only words I’ve learned so far, but I will come each day with something new to surprise you.” Far more comfortable conversing in his native tongue, he set the tray of food on the golden line for her to take when she was ready. “I made you something to eat, though I am not nearly as skilled with the preparation of recipes as you seem to be with needle and thread.”

  She looked down at the tray strewn with flowers and sparkling blood-red stones. Bemused, she refused to step forward. “Etaine explained to me that Omari males serve meals to their wives. On Esin’s ship, they tried to feed me often. When it was Esin’s turn he brought… I can’t even remember what he called it.”

  Retreating a step back before she might smell the musk of Alpha anger in the air, Simin took a controlled breath. He even managed to speak without grinding his teeth. “Did you enjoy his food?”

  Lost in her thoughts, Morgaine failed to notice his shift in mood or his blatant attempts to hide it from her. Instead she stared down at the tray with its yellowing flower petals and simple fare. “I never tried it. I couldn’t eat after the caning. Or if I did, I don’t remember. Nothing there tasted good because everything they served me had been stolen from my settlement. The women here call me Nierra, but my people were nothing like those men.”

  He could work with this line of information, lead her to pleasant things. Crouching down so he might sit upon the floor and cross his legs, Simin grew casual, smiling as he asked, “I can’t make any promises that your lunch will taste good. Fairly certain I burned your cake, but after you eat some, take pity on a poor man and tell me what I did wrong. Tastes like burnt nuts to me. Believe it or not, that was the better of three. The rest were ejected straight into space.”

  She’d gone from wide-eyed shock to see the male sprawl on the floor, to trying to bite back a laugh at his foolishness. “I’m sure the inside is just fine.”

  “So you’re saying it’s not supposed to be charred on the outside…” Rubbing his jaw, he gave her a playfully pained look. “Don’t spare my feelings, I can take the truth.”

  At that she did let a little snort of laughter free and cracked a grin. “I have not met a man yet who could.”

  Hand to his heart, insulted grimace on his face, he declared, “You wound me.”

  He got an honest laugh out of her before Morgaine’s hands fisted in her skirts and she began to nervously chew her lip.

  When the Omega stood, struck with indecision, Simin urged, “Take the tray. I’m not going to move from this spot. I’ll even scoot back if it will make you feel better, though we might have to shout to hear one another if I go much farther.”

  Slowly inching forward, Morgaine made a grab for the tray, pulling it far enough on her side of the room that even with his great reach, Simin would never have been able to touch her. Mirroring his posture, she set a hip to the floor, legs tucked neatly under her skirt.

  Watching as she wielded the provided spoon by the bowl, the Omega sawed off the top of the cake with the handle. Quick work was made of the sides as well, until the unburnt insides of his sorry attempt at baking were carved into a neat rectangle… that actually looked good. Al
most edible.

  “So that’s the trick…”

  “Baker’s insider secrets. I’m pretty good at burning cooking myself.” As she tidied up the plate and cast the burnt edges right atop a particularly large ruby, Morgaine explained. “My mother was the great cook.”

  “Was?”

  A golden head shook, Morgaine correcting herself. “Is.”

  “You must miss her a great deal.”

  Hackles raised on the Omega, playfulness morphing into distrustful sharp edges. “Is this some trick?”

  “Tell me what she’s like?”

  Bitterness bleached her expression into a blank slate of nothing. “She’s wonderful.”

  Leaning back on an elbow, affecting his voice to keep it light, Simin prodded, “And?”

  “And I don’t want to talk about her with you.” The snap was rude, it was loud, and across the room where Omegas lounged, several turned their heads.

  Brushing off her temper, ignoring the spying women, Simin rolled a shoulder and teased, “I’m my mother’s favorite. All my brothers would disagree, my three sisters would as well, but I’m convinced. You might not realize this, but I’m extremely charming.”

  Morgaine snorted, Simin grinning.

  “My father found her on… oh, what was the name of the planet?” For the life of him he couldn’t remember. “Somewhere very cold. She led the opposing army. One look at her and he knew, took her right there on the battlefield amidst some very confused warriors who didn’t know if they should cheer on the show or keep trying to kill each other. Deep down, I’ve always suspected that was her strategy all along. Seduce and destroy. Now she is Empress to all Omari and doting mother to twelve, yes you heard me right, twelve children. Though I will remind you again, that I am the favorite. My father is a hard-ass son of a bitch, but he adores her to an embarrassing degree.”

  His Omega looked stricken, lashes already brimming with unspilt tears. “He raped her before her people?”

  Clearing his throat, Simin eyeballed his nails. “The way Mama tells the story, she ran right for him, knives in hand to tear at his leathers. Had him naked and on his back in three seconds flat. Rode him right there on the battlefield for all to see.”