by Pearl Foxx
Gerrit narrowed his eyes. “Does this explain why you’re recommending the Omega Selection for Savas’s crime? My father is not pleased with his half-brother or with Drausus, but to make Savas participate in the first Omega Selection in nearly thirty years is a lot to ask the clan to get behind. I’m not sure it will happen.”
“That’s Kaveh’s decision to make. I’m only here to advise. But Savas must be punished. He might not have killed these women, but he took away their lives. His loyalists should see what happens when they disobey the Alpha’s credence against the flesh trade.”
Gerrit stared at Rayner for a moment longer in silent contemplation. The young heir was far more insightful than his young years warranted. Perhaps even more insightful than Rayner had been at his age, despite becoming Beta at the tender age of seventeen. Finally, Gerrit clasped his shoulder. “Whether Father approves the Omega Selection or not, I will protect Niva. Don’t worry.”
Relief flooded through Rayner. “Thank you.”
“But, Beta?” Gerrit’s eyes were full of mischief once again. “Remember to think with your big head, and not your little one, okay?”
“Hmph. Who’s supposed to be the instructor around here, anyway?”
Rayner took the long way back to his quarters, walking through the underground city that he called home and looking at it through new eyes. Humans on Earth lived above ground, but the Vilka preferred the safety of a den, protected on all sides by earth. Had Vera lived on Earth? Had she been born on a planet like this one, or in the space station from which Savas and his crew had taken her? In her new life, she’d never again be allowed to walk the surface where rival clans might capture or hurt her solely because she was a female under Vilkan protection. Could she grow to love the dim but constant light beneath the mountain’s peak?
He stopped walking and shook his head. Whether she loved the city or not didn’t matter. She was a servant, and would do as she was told. He had to stop thinking about her. It did him no good to dwell on the warmth he felt in his chest when she met his eyes or the way his body responded to her scent.
Around him, passing Vilkas cast him strange looks, their Beta standing as if frozen in the middle of the thoroughfare. He took a deep breath and continued walking around the edge of the city, glancing up to watch as servants cleaned the ultra-bright hydro-lamps in the farming district. His city was large, complex, and self-sustaining. He was proud the clan could sustain itself for years without ever setting foot topside if they chose to. If Vera missed the sun, maybe he’d bring her here so she could walk among the crops and at least feel like she was outside.
Again, he shook his head, berating himself for what was becoming an obsession. Vera would have free time and could explore the city on her own. She’d meet other servants and build a life he’d never be part of. Maybe even find a mate among the lower-ranked Vilkan males. His gut twisted at the thought.
A man in a narrow loincloth tottered down a ladder and hoisted a huge replacement bulb over one shoulder before wobbling up the ladder once again. Were the servants who kept this city running as proud as Rayner was of it, or did they resent their position? He’d always fought against slavery, against the cruelty and disrespect his mother had experienced, but he’d never considered the status of servants. In his mind, servitude had always been a step up, a tremendous freedom after what his mother had suffered. But he’d never bothered to actually stop and talk to the servants about how they felt.
Rayner forced himself to turn from the hard-working farmers and continued home. He pushed open the heavy wooden door and stopped short.
“This isn’t going to work, Rayner.”
Standing in the middle of his quarters, Vera spoke his name so casually that hearing it on her tongue did odd, flipping things to his gut, like he’d accidentally turned off a ship’s grav system. He stared at her and nearly choked, taking in the luscious curves of her body no longer hidden by the dirty and bloodstained uniform of her space station.
“I see your new clothes were delivered while I was away,” he managed to croak out.
Vera scowled. “You call these clothes?”
Rayner was quite used to seeing servants dressed as she was now, bodies barely covered by the castoff materials of clan clothing. But on Vera, the sight rendered him momentarily speechless and made his cock swell against the seam of his pants.
“Rayner?” Vera’s brows inched higher up the smooth skin of her forehead. “Hello?”
He blinked before clearing his throat. “Yes?” His voice hitched higher than he’d intended. “I mean, what isn’t going to work … Vera?”
She swiped an angry hand along her front, indicating the outfit she wore. “This! I was expecting an apron, maybe, or some gloves, but not a glorified bikini!”
A ruddy blush rose from her cleavage to her neck and jaw, and saliva pooled in Rayner’s mouth as he imagined running his tongue along the crease between her breasts. She was the most stunning female he’d ever seen in his life. He wanted to trace his hands over her smooth skin, to bury his nose in the crook of her neck and breathe deeply, to skim his teeth along her jaw and nip the lobe of her ear to mark her as his.
“Rayner!”
He swallowed hard and crossed to his desk chair, where he sat to hide the embarrassing bulge in his crotch. “Yes?”
“Do you see this top? It’s two scraps of fabric!” She pulled on the lashings that bound her breasts but left her shoulders and midriff bare. A thin leash of leather wound around her neck and connected to the material between her swelling breasts, keeping the fabric in place. Mostly.
“I do see it,” Rayner said.
“And is this supposed to be a skirt?” Her legs stretched for delirium-inducing miles beneath the short hem of the skirt, her skin pale and freckled, her calves and thighs well shaped with lean muscles. Rayner wondered about the types of workouts she did and how often and what her sweat would taste like—
“It’s like you’re just asking me to tear your eyes out of your skull.” She placed her fists on her hips and scowled.
Rayner coughed, dragging his gaze from her amazing body to focus on her face. “This is what servants wear. The Arakids can only spin so much silk every season, and clan members have priority because the tightly woven silk protects us in battle. Servants are only allowed the castoffs.”
“You have spare clothes.” She pointed to the shelves where he kept his clean clothing. “Give me a shirt.”
He didn’t bother to look at the dark folds of cloth on his shelves, a color reserved for the highest-ranking members of the clan. Even white was a color earmarked for mates. Servants were the natural, neutral tones of the silk. “You can’t wear my clothing. Servants aren’t given material of this grade.”
“Is it your goal to keep me naked?” She took a step back and gestured to her cleavage. “Is that what you want? So you and your men can fuck me with your eyes even as you promise me I’m not a slave?”
Her words had his head spinning in multiple directions. First, the idea of fucking her—with his eyes or otherwise—turned his previously swelling cock painfully hard. Second, the idea of his men or any other man doing the same made his claws break through his skin and his elongating canines cut into his lip. No man had any right to look at her that way.
Including you, asshole, he thought.
Vera continued her berating. “Or maybe you really do want a sex slave. Is that it? That’s what Savas stole us for anyway, right? Should I get down on my hands and knees for you while you pretend to be our high and mighty savior? Are you even listening to me?”
Now all he could think about was her on her hands and knees, ass in the air in invitation. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? Before he could gather his wits, Vera strode forward until her breasts were directly in front of his face, just begging him to reach out and lick at the sensitive nipples pebbling beneath the silk.
“Is this what you want?” she whispered. “Is that what your protection costs?”
“Vera—” He didn’t get the chance to finish.
Straddling his knees and sinking onto his lap, she grabbed his face with both hands and smashed her lips violently against his. His lips opened to hers in surprise, allowing her tongue to sweep in. Even with the slight undercurrent of blood from her healing split lip, she tasted as refreshing as the coldest drink of spring water after a long run in his Vilkan form. Without thinking, his hands settled on her hips, his fingertips caressing the velvety skin along her waist.
She sucked in a breath as if surprised, the hands on his face losing some of their rough force. Lips that had been hard and determined now softened, accepting a caress from his tongue. Her breasts heaved gently, brushing against his chest, and what felt like a thread of electricity jolted between them.
Great Avilku, her scent. It assaulted his mind and churned his Vilkan instincts until they screamed at him to lay her out on the floor and cover her perfect body with his. To claim her. To mate with her right there.
The scent of female arousal spiked through the air as if mirroring his thoughts. Rayner warred against his instincts. Against his heart. But she was only doing this because she was angry. He wouldn’t exploit the situation he’d put her in. He leaned into her, taking one last taste before easing her off his knees and away from him.
“That’s not what I want from you,” he said, though his voice rasped against the words.
Vera heaved a breath, her full breasts straining against the skimpy straps of her top. Her wide hazel eyes blinked as if she’d just realized where she was and what she was doing. Her lips pressed into a grim, determined line. “Then what? You just want to parade me around like a prize? Maybe put some chains on me?”
“I won’t make you do anything you don’t wish to do. I swear it on my life.” He rose, forcing more space between him and her delicious body and sweet mouth, but she stalked after him. “But you have to understand that resources are scarce. Until you can earn your own clothing and personal items, you’ll have to make do with what you’re given. Nothing goes to waste here.”
“You took us from our homes.” She thrust both palms flat against his chest as if to push him back. When he didn’t budge, she glared up at him, her eyes dilated, her aroused scent still lingering around her. “The least you can do is provide us with dignified clothing.”
A rap sounded on his front door. Rayner felt a spike of relief at the interruption. “Enter,” he called, shifting away from Vera.
A new guard entered, his eyes going wide at the sight of Vera. Rayner burned with the urge to rip the man’s head off. Instead, he shouldered past Vera to block the man’s view. “Yes?” he barked.
The man flinched and averted his gaze. “The Alpha is awaiting you.”
“Tell him I’ll be there shortly.”
The guard’s focus drifted back to Vera as he opened his mouth to respond accordingly to Rayner, but the words appeared to fly right out of his head as he gawked.
Rayner worked his jaw. The women Savas had captured represented the first pureblood humans inside the Vilkas’ mountain in over a decade. But that didn’t mean the young pup could stand there and stare. Especially at Vera. Rayner could still smell her arousal and knew the guard could smell it as well.
“You can leave now,” Rayner said with more bite than he’d meant to.
“Ye-yes, sir.” The guard tore his gaze from Vera and backed out the door.
Behind Rayner, Vera said, “I want a shirt.”
He turned slowly to face her. She stood so close he could see the multicolored flecks in her hazel eyes, like pebbles beneath a clear-water lake. The freckles on her pale face were begging to be licked. She would make him do something he regretted if he stayed here much longer. “You can’t have one. Trust me, it will be worse for you if the clan sees you with clothing you haven’t earned.”
A snarling smile twisted her lips. “That kiss didn’t earn me at least a pair of pants?” She arched a brow, her eyes drifting down to his still-hard cock. “You seemed to have liked it.”
“Vera,” he growled, leaning over her. “Don’t push me.”
She glared and crossed her arms over her chest, hiding herself. She shrank back from him, anger sparking in her eyes. “You’re no better than Drausus.”
She was infuriating. Maddening. No Vilkan female would ever act like this or question him so much. “Believe me,” he snapped, “if that were the case, I would have done much more than kiss you.”
Vera gasped. Her eyes narrowed on him like she might attack.
Before she had the chance to rake those claws down his jaw, he prowled to the door, stomping louder than necessary. As he was leaving, he said over his shoulder, “Your superior, Decallian, will arrive in a few minutes. She’s not as nice to servants as I am. I suggest you behave.”
Vera was still sputtering when he slammed the heavy wooden door behind him.
7
Vera
Vera clenched her fists at her sides and stared at the wooden door. What had she been thinking, trying to get under his skin that way? She’d never been a manipulative kind of girl, preferring to use logic and reason. But something about Rayner made her turn into a quivering mound of jelly. A tingle raced through her core as she recalled his hands molding against her waist, fingertips stroking the skin, and the distinct bulge she’d felt while sitting on his lap …
Pull it together, Vera. She shook her head violently to clear the memories. This was no time to let herself be run by hormones. Niva lay in the other room, traumatized by these very aliens.
Stomping back to the bedroom, she found the girl tying the skimpy skirt around her waist. Niva looked up, her eyes brimming with tears, her face blotchy with bruises. “They really expect us to wear these scraps?”
“I think so.”
“I …” Niva trembled, shaking so hard her teeth began to chatter. “I don’t think I can do this.”
Vera crossed the room in two long-legged strides and pulled the girl against her chest. Niva clung to her, sobs choking off in her throat. “It’s okay,” Vera said. “You’re okay.”
In the other room, Vera heard a rustle of fabric before a woman with chapped red cheeks and eyes slightly too big for her face entered the bedroom. Gaze scathing as she took in the two humans, the woman stood with her hands on her hips. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Vera pushed Niva behind her back. “Where did you come from? How the hell did you get in here?” The front door hadn’t moved; it was still closed behind Rayner’s angry departure. The woman had appeared out of nowhere.
“The tunnels. And don’t use that language with me. You’ve already made me late.”
Vera didn’t move. “Are you the keeper Rayner said was coming? Decallian?”
Dressed in a long, neutral tunic that covered her entire lumpy body, Decallian narrowed her squinty eyes. “You are to address your benefactor as sir or, if you must, Beta. You may address me as Keeper.”
“Benefactor? Is that what he’s called?” Vera raised a brow at the woman.
The instructor acted as if she hadn’t spoken. “You two come with me. I won’t be made even later.”
“Niva is injured. She needs to rest.”
The keeper regarded Niva with cold eyes. “We have no room for weaklings among the clan. Either she earns her keep, or she doesn’t eat.”
Vera’s entire body flushed with indignation. “She’s not a weakling. One of your men attacked her. She deserves a chance to recover.”
The ice in the woman’s eyes melted a fraction, and her face softened, making her look almost grandmotherly. “I see. I’d heard something about that in the kitchens. Very well. She may stay here for now.” As if the near-kind words were an affront against her very nature, Decallian resumed her glower and pointed a stubby finger at Vera. “But you will have to instruct her to keep up with our lessons.”
“Fine.” Vera said, grateful Niva had the chance to rest. She nudged the young girl back toward t
he bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll be back in a bit.” Then, in a lower voice so the keeper couldn’t hear, she added, “Lock the bedroom door.”
Niva nodded, lip caught between her teeth.
Decallian led the way out of the bedroom and stopped beside a swath of fabric covering a section of the wall. Vera had never paid it any mind because it fit in with the hodgepodge furnishings of a man who’d lived alone all of his adult life. The keeper swished the fabric back to reveal a smooth-surfaced tunnel that descended into the rock of the mountain’s exterior. “These are the servant tunnels. You are to use them whenever possible to keep yourself out of the way of those with important business.”
Holding back a sarcastic retort, Vera followed her into the tunnel, which immediately turned into a curved set of stairs, the light growing dimmer and the air more dank as they descended into the mountain. Before they went too deep, the tunnel leveled back out and opened into a wider, brightly lit corridor. The scent of cooking meat wafted through the space, along with the surging mass of voices and clanging pots. From various doors and branches off the central corridor, people—servants, Vera corrected herself—rushed about, carrying food or empty plates or bundles of laundry or various other staples of daily life. They were all wearing scraps of cloth, though none seemed to care about the amount of flesh flashing beneath the glow worms’ light.
Vera watched all the activity, gawking. If the plaza’s market had been the hub of life for the higher-class aliens, then this space was the epicenter for the servants.
Decallian raised her voice above the clamor to say, “You will report here each morning for your benefactor’s breakfast. It should be waiting for him in his quarters upon awakening. It will be hot. Not warm. Do you understand?”
“Only the hottest for my benefactor,” Vera said, mapping the corridors in her mind as they walked. Her eyes went back to the lighting above their heads. “Do the worms mimic daylight hours, or are they glowing constantly?”
