by Cara Bristol
“I missed you,” Enyi said in a breathy voice. His glowing dark gaze caressed Corren’s face.
“I know you do.” Corren patted his beta’s thigh. “But my responsibilities are greater than ever since the Commander acquired a breeder.”
Enyi fingered the alpha insignia Corren had donned before arrival. It was the sole contact Corren permitted Enyi, who didn’t recognize the ring was counterfeit. Every tug on the illegal ring renewed Corren’s sense of purpose. He had tried out the fake insignia at a private gathering more than ten years ago. No one questioned it, least of all, Enyi, whom he’d met that night. But he could not wear it in public lest someone speculate why Dak’s beta wore an alpha tag. One day, he’d exchange it for genuine Alpha regalia, and he’d melt his loathsome beta ring.
Enyi had never questioned why an alpha would be anointed to the Commander—perhaps he’d assumed Alpha status disallowed a lowly beta to suffice as his helpmate.
A frown creased Enyi’s otherwise smooth forehead. “I assumed owning a breeder lightened one’s burden.”
“It is supposed to work that way, but this one is defective. She requires close and continual supervision. She cannot cook. She cannot clean. She cannot follow simple instructions. She fumbles and drops things. I have to stand over her as she works and correct her. It is such an arduous task. I have had to employ creative ways to motivate her.”
To discipline her in a manner that did not leave noticeable bruises or other marks. He’d threatened her with even worse punishments if she reported the chastisements to Dak.
Enyi’s face caved. “And I compounded your trials by failing in my deportment. I beg your forgiveness, alpha.”
Corren had insisted Enyi address him as alpha at all times, but upon his visit, Enyi had rushed out of the habitation unit and in his exuberance, called him by his given name. Corren had dragged Enyi inside and disciplined him immediately, first using the sudon, then a switch he’d stripped off a nearby tree. Bringing his beta to tears never failed to arouse him, so of course, punishment had led to intercourse.
Enyi looked so disheartened, affection welled, and Corren patted his cheek. “But you, unlike the female, are able to learn from discipline.”
His beta’s crestfallen expression lightened. “Thank you, alpha.” He pursed his lips. “May I ask a question?”
Feeling indulgent, Corren nodded.
“If the breeder is so unsuitable, why does the Commander not exchange her for another?”
Because Dak lusted for her. After Corren had banished her to the stables, Dak had installed her in one of the guest chambers. After mating, he’d come to their room reeking of her stench. Ever since, Dak had watched her when he thought no one was looking. But Corren logged every incidence in which the supreme ruling Commander, the overseer of Protocol, betrayed his weakness, his depravity, his unsuitability for command.
“I cannot say.” Corren sidestepped the question but added truthfully, “The situation concerns me.”
“Where did he acquire her?”
“At BCF Five.”
Enyi choked. “Monto! I did not make the connection.”
“What connection?” Corren narrowed his gaze.
“My uncle Sival worked as director of BCF Five but lost his position.”
Corren gestured impatiently. “And what does that have to do with the Commander and the breeder?”
“My uncle has not shared the details of his dismissal, but I had heard an alpha had taken him to task over a certain breeder. I did not realize until now that the alpha was the Commander. Uncle Sival has been unable to gain an equal position since his termination. He is quite angry—not that he would ever fault Alpha,” he added.
“Of course not. Where is your uncle now?” Corren’s pulse raced with possibilities the situation offered. He didn’t have a plan yet but sensed Enyi’s uncle might be a useful ally.
“He has been cleaning the streets of the Market.”
No one should admit one’s relation had fallen into such debasement. Corren suppressed a shudder of revulsion and pasted on an expression of concern. “Perhaps I can help him find better employment,” Corren lied. “Do you have means to contact him?”
“You would do that?”
“Of course. You’re my beta, and I want to help your family.” Power swelled within, sending the blood rushing to his manhood. He motioned to Enyi.
His beta drew him deep into his throat and sucked. Corren smiled. I am alpha.
* * * *
Marlix’s lip curled as if he’d ingested something spoiled, although Omra’s meal showed all signs of being excellent as usual. “You must halt the contagion before it spreads throughout your province,” said the Alpha. “To other regions.”
Omra’s hands shook as she ladled soup into bowls; jerky movements had replaced her usual grace. Of course, this was her first time serving dignitaries, so her nervousness was normal. Two Alphas of the High Council, Marlix of Province Four and Tarbek of Province Three, and their betas convened in his dining chamber for an evening of conversation.
If he’d had a moment alone with her, Dak would have reassured Omra of his confidence in her ability to satisfy his guests, but under observation he could not do so. His peers would misinterpret encouragement as softness. Coddling would arouse disdain but also curiosity. Already he’d intercepted surreptitious expectant glances. His gut tightened. He sought to dampen their interest, not stoke it.
Omra filled the last bowl, and he dismissed her. “Leave us,” he said, his words and tone clipped by an urgency to expel her from the premises. She bowed and scurried away. Dak motioned for the men to eat and addressed Marlix’s comment. “The Enclave injures no one.”
“The males have anointed females as betas. Does one allow the worm to eat itself through the fruit, or does one cut it out?” Marlix fired back. “The settlement casts a blight on the Parseon race.”
Corren and Marlix’s beta Urazi nodded in agreement. Tarbek shifted his gaze between Marlix and Dak, as if he was viewing two combatants preparing to fight. His light blue eyes gleamed.
“There are only two hundred or so individuals involved,” Dak said. “They exist in isolation with little contact with the rest of Parseon.”
Disapproval had not spoiled Marlix’s appetite, and he spooned soup into his mouth with a fast hand. He smacked his lips. “Excellent.” He nodded at Corren, who beamed.
“Perhaps a couple hundred now.” Marlix picked up his argument. “But they are attracting more degenerates like themselves, and they produce offspring at a higher rate than the rest of Parseon. They breed like vermin.”
Dak tilted his head. “And how is it you know so much about my province?” Alphas commonly spied on each other, even going so far as to plant loyalists from their province in another Alpha’s cabinet and offices. Dak carefully vetted his inner circle.
“I find it prudent to educate myself about threats to my sovereignty. Though we rule autonomously, what affects one has the potential to affect—or infect—us all.” Marlix turned to Tarbek. “Don’t you agree?”
“I concur with your assessment as to the repugnancy of the Enclave. But where you perceive a problem, I conceive of a solution. Commander Dak’s lack of concern serves us all. All we need to do is enforce Protocol in our provinces, and the deviants will flee to his.” Tarbek shrugged. “I would not welcome such an infestation in my province, but I am not Dak.”
“No, you are not.” Dak inserted an edge into his voice and dipped a piece of panna into Omra’s thick soup. He took a bite. Savory flavors exploded in his mouth. He wished he hadn’t had guests so he could relax and enjoy the meal she had prepared. But put any two Alphas in a room and one could not predict what would occur. Aggression and the inclination to dominate simmered beneath the thinnest veneer of politeness. But for survival, he needed to test the winds. He considered the old Terran saying “keep your friends close and your enemies closer” wise advice.
His friends numbered a few. But enemie
s? Too many to count.
Once he’d considered Corren a friend, but since Omra’s arrival, he had begun to question their bond. Corren had committed no act upon which Dak could lay his suspicions, but his unease had worsened since Omra’s arrival. He glanced at Corren, whose head bobbed in assent with Marlix’s social theory. Corren’s opinion aligned with conventional belief. No one would fault him there.
“The Enclave’s existence undermines Parseon’s political stability. The elimination of social strata, males anointing females—it all hammers at the foundation of our social structure,” Marlix argued. “And the way the Enclave caters to them?” He shuddered.
“It is practically human!” Corren made a face. Urazi nodded in support. Veya showed no strong emotion one way or another but maintained a neutral expression. Tarbek’s beta would make a good diplomat, Dak noted absently. Or a spy.
“If nature had devised another way to produce offspring, we would not need females at all,” Tarbek said and stroked his chin. “My theory is the drakor are expressing a recessive human gene in their behaviors.” He glanced at the betas. “I apologize for my strong language.”
Marlix shook his head. “I rue the day our forebears chose that ill-conceived course of action.”
“We are more than our genetics,” Dak said. “And we had no choice. We would have perished. Terran DNA saved our race.”
“It polluted us. But if, as you say, we are more than our genetics, then perhaps we can eradicate our Terran impulses by euthanizing those who display maladaptive traits and behaviors. I’d recommend dispatching a regiment on a cleansing mission.”
“Genocide? That is your solution?” Dak asked, though unsurprised. He could have predicted how Marlix would react.
“Eugenocide. For the benefit of your province and the planet. One should not allow the weakest, most defective members of a race to breed.”
Dak could not deny the Enclave’s lifestyle and practices were aberrant, but did they merit death? “Bloodshed does not solve every problem.” Dak rested his fists on the table.
“Blood spilled for the greater good is an act of honor. I do not understand your resistance to a purge.” A red-faced Marlix struck the table with his fist.
Dak sought the dagger strapped to his side and leveled his gaze on the Alphas. He doubted the situation would erupt into violence, but whenever two Alphas gathered…
He flicked a glance at Tarbek, who smirked. “Next our esteemed Commander will nominate a female to the High Council.”
Marlix nodded, taking it seriously. “Commander Dak has succumbed to the influence of the Terrans.”
Urazi gasped, but Corren and Veya sat and watched.
Dak rose to his feet. He could not allow the insults to go unchallenged. Word would spread, and he would lose the approbation of his people. “You defame me and violate my hospitality, Commander. Should you wish to take our discussion of our political differences into the personal realm, I would be happy to settle this in a dola.
Marlix leaped out of his chair. “As you wi—”
“I do not believe Commander Marlix intended disrespect,” Tarbek cut in. “Opinions are spirited. Let us concentrate on creating a powerful and prosperous Parseon. Instead of a dola, I suggest another topic of discourse.”
Dak did not react but continued to hold Marlix’s gaze. He could not back down when his honor, his command, and the life of his people were at stake. He would see this through to the end.
Marlix blinked and glanced at Tarbek. “You surprise me by peacemaking, Commander. Surely you would view a hand-to-hand fight to the death as an opportunity to be leveraged?”
Perhaps he and Marlix could agree on something after all. Dak eyed Tarbek. Keep your friends close…
“One needs to select one’s opportunities carefully, lest they become threats,” Tarbek said. “I should hate to shirk my duties to my province while I participated in the tedium of selecting a new Alpha to replace one of you.”
“And while we have our differences”—Tarbek glanced between Dak and Marlix—“better the Alpha you know than the one you don’t.”
Omra entered and proceeded to clear used dishes. All heads pivoted. Marlix, in particular, watched her with a predatory glint that Dak disliked even more than having him meddle in his province. The empty bowls rattled in her grasp, and her pale skin had blanched even more, darkening her violet eyes. She’d tied her glossy black hair back with a ribbon, revealing a clear, delicate profile. She reminded him of the wildflowers she picked, understated and easy to dismiss until one paid closer examination. The weight she’d gained since her arrival had transformed angles into comely curves. With every passing day, he noticed an enhancement in her appearance. And not a morning sun rose that he failed to remember their coupling, her body beneath him, her grip on his manhood. Her wetness.
“It was not unpleasant.” Her hesitant compliment had aroused his libido but left him with a lingering discontent. Not in her, but within himself. The mating had gone better than he had expected, yet he wanted…more. What if instead of not unpleasant for her, it could be pleasant?
Omra exited, then entered with a tray of roasted fowl and a bowl of golden grain and acca nuts. Despite the discord, his stomach rumbled at the appetizing smells wafting from the platter. In accordance with Protocol, she served the guest Alphas before filling his plate.
Had they not had company, he might have curved his arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. It was perhaps fortunate that Marlix, Tarbek, and the betas sat in attendance, because he had no idea what his intention would be. Stroke her hair, her face, her breasts? Play with his insignia that dangled from her nipple? Why did he have this desire to touch her so? She might already be impregnated, and if that were the case, no further intercourse would be required until she could produce another son.
He inhaled her sweet scent, even more delectable than the food she heaped upon his plate, and it beckoned him with a seductive force to bury his face against her neck. He held himself rigid in his chair.
Conscious of scrutiny, he met her gaze. “Did you bake a sweetcake?”
“No, Alpha. I did not.”
“Oh.” He’d asked only to cover his sudden speechlessness, but disappointment settled over him. Her honeyed treats melted in his mouth as if spun from sugar and air. He looked forward to all her dishes, but especially her sweetcakes.
“But I baked a berry-and-cream tart.”
“You did?” He couldn’t prevent a smile.
Her lips curved too. “Of course,” she answered in a voice that seemed to be for his ears only. “I would not prepare your evening repast without a sweet finish.”
Omra departed, looking a little less nervous. The door clicked behind her, and Dak picked up his eating utensil. The others followed suit. They ate in silence broken only by cutlery scraping their plates. As the main course neared its end, Marlix nodded at Corren. “I commend you on an excellent meal.” He touched his lips to his fingers. “Exquisite—all of it.”
“Thank you, Commander.” Corren glowed.
It was the second compliment Marlix had thrown Corren’s way, and twice now his beta had accepted it as his due. Irritation flashed. “Omra prepared the supper.” A female.
“But your beta directed its preparation, did he not?” Marlix raised an eyebrow.
No, he and Corren had met in his office to discuss other matters involving their guests while Omra had worked alone in the food preparation room. But one did not elevate a female’s status over a male’s. So much of Parseon Protocol involved posturing and pretense—up until violence erupted.
Speculation gleamed in Marlix’s golden eyes. “You seem to have high regard for your breeder. Perhaps she is the reason for your sympathies. Perhaps you have more in common with the Enclave than you admit to.”
Another insult. Dak countered with one of his own. “What is it you fear from the inferior sex?”
Marlix thrust out his chest. “I am afraid of no one, least of all a bre
eder. But they have their place, their uses,” he said with lascivious intonation.
Omra chose that moment to come for the dirty dishes. As she worked, all the men watched her. Expectation spiraled, a sensation as palpable as the portent of a storm. He marshaled his self-control to remain seated and not shove her out of the room. Monto, will you hurry? Underneath the table, he drummed his fingertips on his knee. Finally, arms burdened, she departed. He expelled his relief in an inaudible sigh.
Corren pursed his lips. “The guest chambers have been prepared. Perhaps when Commander Tarbek and Commander Marlix and their betas retire for their respite, they would care to avail themselves of Omra for the evening.”
A crimson haze descended to flood Dak’s face, chest, and upper limbs. He wanted to grab Corren by the throat and choke the life out of him.
Though alphas rarely used their home breeders for sexual release, they expected to avail themselves of a host’s breeder, not just for the novelty but for the competitiveness running through their veins. The idea that they could, in a small way, lay claim to another alpha’s property motivated their lust. And it was customary to offer. That Dak hadn’t yet offered her was mildly rude. To fail to do so now would be perceived as a serious insult. Would call into question anew his political motives.
Marlix’s eyes gleamed, backlit by a love for violence. Omra would be returned to him in the morning, body and spirit broken.
Dak unclenched his jaw and feigned calm. “I thank my beta for reminding me of my proper duties. Of course, should you desire her, I shall send Omra to you for the evening.”
“My beta and I thank you for your hospitality and will accept your generous offer. We shall try not to use her to the extent that she will be unable to fulfill her duties to you,” Marlix said, confirming his worst fears.
She is female. She is born and raised for this. Dak could not jeopardize stability in his province to protect a female for whom he’d developed a measure of affection. No alpha would hesitate to hand over a breeder. He had acquired her partly for that reason. But his stomach threatened to displace his meal at the idea of any of them touching her. And he could not shake the guilt that he was betraying her.
