by Cara Bristol
“Commander, will you join us?” Marlix looked at Tarbek.
The other Alpha curled his lip dismissively. “I shall pass.” He looked at Veya. “But perhaps my beta?”
“If my Alphas demurs, so shall I,” Veya said loyally.
Balancing a stack of plates on one arm and a golden tart heaped with berries and cream on the other, Omra appeared. She presented the finish to him, her open, trusting gaze seeking his approval. He avoided her eyes but nodded. He would not be able to choke down so much as a morsel.
That he lived a personal life of strength and forbearance had tempered criticism of his more unpopular decisions. He had zero doubt if he had declined the use of Omra, the two Alphas publicly would label him as an Enclave sympathizer. Unfit for command.
They would be right. Self-loathing roiled. He was a poltroon. A coward. But not for reasons assumed.
As Omra moved to serve the tart to Marlix and Tarbek, Dak slid out his foot. Her toe caught his ankle. She cried out with alarm as she pitched forward. Though she gained her footing, the tart flew out of her grasp. It hit Corren in the chest and plopped onto his lap.
Dak’s beta leaped to his feet.
“NO!” Dak’s shout came too late to prevent Corren’s backhanded blow from knocking her to the floor.
Dak slammed his fist into Corren’s face. Blood sprayed as his nose shattered, but it did not deter Dak from grabbing him by the throat and shoving him against the wall. His beta grabbed his wrists but could not dislodge the grip. A hush fell over the room. No one—not even another Commander—would intervene when an Alpha disciplined a member of his household. Dak squeezed until Corren’s face purpled and his eyes bulged. Then he released him. Corren slumped to the floor, stained by blood and berries. He covered his broken nose, but crimson fluid leaked between his fingers.
Every muscle had coiled into a tense spring. “Clean up the mess,” Dak ordered. “Then wait for me in my office.”
Corren jerked and raised his head. Hatred flashed. Dak cared not. Corren would hate him more before the evening ended.
Cowardice had succeeded where courage had failed. Retreat was no longer an option. He could only stand bold.
A lowly breeder would inspire a jealous rage only if the accusations lobbed against him carried some truth. He did not support the Enclave or its females, but he did sympathize with this one, who sprawled on his floor.
Conscious that every move, every nuance would be used against him later, he assisted Omra to her feet. He could mitigate the damage by chastising her for dropping the pastry, could treat the matter as a petty spat within his domicile. Failure to manage his household would count as a lesser crime than to be labeled as a breederphile.
But he couldn’t do it.
He grasped her upper arms. She kept her head bowed.
“Look at me,” he ordered with a gentle shake.
She raised her head. A red splotch marred her tearstained cheek. Terror widened her violet eyes, darkened them to deep pools. With his gaze, he signaled she had nothing more to fear. Not from him. At least not this evening. “Go to my chamber and stay there,” he told her.
Color drained from her face, accenting the scarlet handprint. Frustration that she misunderstood, rage at Corren, and a deeper resentment that the ways of his race limited his choices, churned in his gut. He released her and stepped away before he heightened her distress. He could not alleviate her fear, could not say what needed to be said, not because of his adversaries’ surveillance, but for his lack. He could not define what he felt at this moment, and he suspected language would fail him if he knew.
“Go now.” He gave her a gentle shove toward the door.
After her exit, Dak drew himself up to his full height, tightened his muscles, and centered his weight on his heels. His physical size and bearing had deterred many an opponent, though never Marlix or Tarbek.
“We shall not speak of this.” He glanced at each of the men, the betas included. Corren crawled on the floor, picking up bits of broken crockery, his blood blending with the berries splattered across the gray stone. Dak leveled his gaze upon Marlix and Tarbek. “Let us retire to the library and partake of some Parseon brandy.”
The betas clustered around Corren as Dak led the Alphas from the dining chamber.
* * * *
Drinks were downed in haste. To Dak’s relief, the Alphas chose not to spend the night. The betas rejoined the Alphas in the grand foyer for the send-off. Corren, not in attendance, awaited his due in Dak’s office.
In accordance with Protocol, Tarbek and Marlix saluted; Dak returned it, then yanked open the thick, heavy door. Mist had begun to settle; morning would soon creep over the horizon. Weariness tugged at him, and he compensated with a rigid posture. He wanted to seek out Omra to reassure her but needed to deal with Corren first. The hair on his nape prickled, and he pivoted in time to catch Urazi and Veya gesturing. Veya opened his mouth, but Urazi pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head.
Marlix frowned; energy sizzled between the Alpha and his beta. Dak could say one thing for Marlix; he’d chosen a partner who matched his temperament and views. He could not conceive of two anointed pairings who were more alike in nature. He almost envied their coupling, except he suspected each man slept with a dagger at his side.
“Perhaps I shall host the next get-together,” Marlix said. “We can all bring our breeders and exchange them for the evening.”
“Perhaps Corren and I shall attend.” He would never bring Omra.
Marlix beckoned to Urazi, and they departed, leaving Dak alone with Tarbek and Veya.
“A most informative visit,” the Alpha said. “My beta and I thank you for your hospitality.” He started to leave, but Veya hung back.
“Uh…”
Tarbek halted and raised his eyebrows.
Veya fidgeted. “Permission to speak to the Commander Dak?”
Tarbek shrugged.
The tension knotted between Dak’s shoulder blades. “What is it?”
“Corren isn’t here.”
Dak narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“He, uh, left, Commander. Soon after the Alphas gathered in the library. He, uh, said he was going to stay with his brother.”
Enyi. Corren had introduced him to the man he claimed as family long ago, but although Corren visited Enyi often, he’d only brought his sibling to their domicile once, though Dak had encouraged him to invite him more often. Though Dak did not get on well with his own brother, he did not begrudge his beta his kinship with his. But this unscheduled visit equated to public disobedience, disrespect. Abandonment. Grounds for severing their anointed union.
The gleam in Tarbek’s eyes turned speculative. And by now, Urazi would have informed Marlix as well, and the other Alpha would be assessing how he could manipulate the information to his benefit.
Dak acknowledged Veya’s announcement with a slight nod. “Thank you for telling me.”
After the men left, Dak bolted the door and leaned against it. Word of the manner in which his beta had dishonored him would spread. He should be enraged. Should have vowed immediate and severe reprisal. Except he felt drained. For the security of his command, he still might order Corren’s arrest and punishment. But if a positive outcome had arisen from the evening’s denouement, it was that he could focus on Omra without observation or judgment.
Hours had passed since he’d ordered her into his chamber. The time had come to lay her mind to rest. He wished he could settle his own.
Chapter Seven
Omra awakened to Alpha towering over her.
She scrambled off the platform. He’d ordered her to wait in his room but hadn’t given her permission to lie down. She’d waited and worried until the compounding weight of her fears had exhausted her. She had intended to close her eyes for one moment…
“I’m so sorry, Commander.” Apprehension thickened her throat. She’d witnessed what he was capable of. He had tossed Corren about with the same ease wit
h which she shook out the rag she used to scrub the floors. She’d rattled dinner plates, stumbled, and upended the tart in front of an audience of two Alphas of the High Council and their betas. And now she’d been caught sleeping. “I did not mean to spill on Corren.” She wrung her hands.
His chest rose and fell on a sigh. “You did nothing wrong. I intended for you to drop the tart. I just failed to anticipate it would land where it did.”
Her jaw went the way of the pie. Corren frequently had caused her to blunder so he could punish her, but the Commander never had. When she had tripped over his foot, she’d assumed it was an accident on his part and clumsiness on hers. “Why?” The question burst out of her.
His gaze lingered on her still-throbbing cheek. He touched the corner of her eye with a gentle finger and drew a line from her temple to her chin, lighting a trail of fire that continued to burn after he lowered his hand to his side.
He twisted his mouth. “If you had spilled the tart, I could have ordered you to prepare another.”
“B-But I didn’t have any more berries. I only picked enough for one tart.”
A small smile touched his lips. “Then our guests would have been long gone by the time you finished, would they not?” He paused. “I did not want to share you with Marlix, Tarbek, or their betas.”
A load lifted from her shoulders, leaving her giddy with euphoric relief. The instant she’d been informed she would be serving members of the High Council, she’d dreaded she would be offered for their use. While Tarbek had spared her little attention, she’d felt violated by Marlix’s and Urazi’s leers. She’d surmised as soon as dinner ended, the Alpha and his beta would pounce, an assumption verified by Veya’s compassionate glances. Why would he offer sympathy if she didn’t need it? Marlix, in particular, made her want to shrink inside herself. She feared him even more than Sival.
“I regret you were victimized by my cowardice.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, bruised from striking Corren.
He’d didn’t want to share her! He’d been trying to protect her. Her head whirled. “Not cowardice, Commander. Political diplomacy.”
“You are kind.” Though he excelled at masking his emotion and he stood as tall and commanding as ever, an aura of defeat clung to him. She reached out and stroked his cheek. Roughened by the growth of beard, his skin bristled against her finger. Blue eyes blazed white. She yanked her hand away.
A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Have you been impregnated?”
A vacuum sucked the air from the room. Memories of their coupling filled the void. Pain, but mostly that odd tension, expectancy. Satisfaction and dissatisfaction both. A yearning. She shook her head. “I have not noticed any signs yet.”
Again using a single finger, he traced her jaw before meandering an invisible path to her neck and collarbone. She did not understand why his nearness caused her belly to clench and her sex to grow wet and throb, only knew she wanted more, that more would somehow sate the hunger.
But when she swayed toward him, he stepped out of reach, and fire froze to ice. “You may retire to your chamber.” He turned away.
His rejection slapped her harder than Corren’s blow. The pressure of tears swelled in her face, and she prayed she could suppress them until she reached the privacy of her room. She rushed to the door.
“But I hope you will remain.” Like pottery shattering on stone, he sounded rough and broken.
“You want me to stay?” Blood rushed in her ears. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him.
“Yes. But only if you choose. Do not remain because I am Alpha and I command it.” He executed a crisp and abrupt pivot. Muscles had tightened to close off his expression, making him appear hard, formidable, unapproachable, but a flicker in his gaze beseeched.
Her mouth dried. “I want to.”
“Be warned. I will take you. Like before.”
“I want you to.”
He closed the gap and captured her face between his palms. For the longest moment he peered into her eyes. She ached for him with a ferocity that caused her knees to tremble. His scent, so warm, so him, filled her nose, her lungs, her being. She floated on a cloud of his subtle musk and spice, the fragrance of hope. He grabbed her, clutched her against his broad chest, and she discovered his heart raced too. Against her lower abdomen, his erection laid proof to his warning he intended to “take her,” but instead of stirring alarm, his arousal caused yet more yearning, more wetness to pool between her legs. More aching.
He cupped her head and flattened his other hand on her back. For the longest time, he held her. Then he brushed his mouth against her hair. Her temple. No one had ever touched her so with such tenderness.
Whisperflies. Fields of them took flight. So many that she could rise and drift away on the draft of their wings. She clung to Alpha’s hard biceps. She didn’t care if the coupling hurt.
With his lips, he grazed her jaw. Her cheek. Her eyelids, which fluttered shut.
“Say my name.”
“Dak,” she whispered.
His breath warmed her face for an instant; then he pressed his lips to hers and stuck his tongue into her mouth.
Omra’s eyes sprang open. He stared back, his gaze lit by that blinding fire, but he continued to move his mouth, to lick, to stroke. She closed her eyes. Sensation spiraled. Awkward. Foreign. Intimate. Satisfying. He tightened his arms around her and pressed a little harder, continuing the invasion.
When he broke off, she felt bereft, her lips swollen.
“That’s called a kiss,” he said hoarsely.
“A kiss?” She practiced the alien word. “Do it again.”
She’d issued an order to Alpha! But no chastisement came, and he placed his mouth on hers once more, filling her with his scent and taste. He was a rare liquor, reserved for those of the highest rank, the kind served to Alpha himself. And she’d been permitted a goblet from which she’d been granted freedom to drink her fill. She threw off caution and mimicked his movements, twined her tongue around his.
He groaned, a rumble of such pleasure and satisfaction, her knees did buckle, but before she could collapse at his feet, he lifted her into his arms and in two strides deposited her on the sleeping platform. And he shocked her yet again when he proceeded to disrobe. His uniform shirt fell away like it had been whisked off by a village magician, and his booted foot coverings and pants followed.
She stared. Alpha proved a sight to behold. Coiled muscle, mass, and power personified. Without the cover of clothing, his shoulders were even broader, his chest wider. Sinewy arms appeared like thick tree branches, his thighs like logs. And between them? A massive specimen jutted forth. No wonder penetration had hurt. She marveled his member had fit inside her at all.
Instead of anxiety, anticipation welled, causing trembling and lightheadedness as if the room spun. She wanted to touch his manhood, to clasp his shaft, rub her fingers over the cap, even lap at the man essence beading at the opening, but courage and boldness deserted her. She raised her gaze to his face and found him observing her.
“I will do what I can to minimize your pain.”
“It is all right.” She smiled to reassure him. He looked so conflicted.
“Take off your shift.”
She disrobed, then rolled to her side and folded it to conceal the embarrassing wetness that had seeped out of her and darkened the fabric.
The Commander growled, not a pleasured-filled noise but a shocked, furious one that shot fear through her. What had she done to displease him? He grabbed her thigh and flipped her onto her stomach. “What is this?” He traced a line across her back, an area still tender after yesterday’s chastisement. Corren had been angry, brutal. He’d discovered her in the stable feeding forbidden scraps to the beasts. He’d dragged her outside, cut a branch off a tree, and stripped it of its leaves.
“I do not know what you mean.” She stalled, trapped in a dilemma.
Alpha radiated anger, but his touch was featherlight as he ran a finger over
a welt on her buttocks. One across her thighs. “I should have flogged him unconscious, and then roused him and whipped him again. How often did he do this?”
The sun never failed to set that Corren hadn’t devised some reason to discipline her. His ingenuity inflicted pain on the inside without leaving outward marks—until yesterday when he’d lost control. If she lied to Alpha, and he later discovered her falsehood, she would pay dearly. But if she confessed that Corren punished her every day, sometimes twice, and he chastised Corren for his disobedience, the beta would exact retribution at first opportunity. Alpha’s responsibilities resulted in long absences from home, during which time she was at Corren’s mercy—and he had none.
Fortunately, she lay on her stomach so Alpha couldn’t see her face. She opened her mouth to lie, but the Commander spoke first. “He will not strike you again. I give you my word.” His lips followed the same path his fingers had traced. What is he doing? Her heart ceased beating, then nearly leaped out of her chest when he trailed his tongue over her flesh. The wetness burned across the welts, and his jaw rasped where it grazed, but every nerve ending fired in a contrary storm of pleasure.
He grasped the lock-ring. It emitted a hum as the device read his genetic code, then clicked open. He pulled it off and tossed it. It landed near her head, coated by her moisture. Embarrassment heated her face. Something was seriously wrong with her the way her body kept leaking. Fortunately Alpha was willing to overlook her indiscretions.
As this was her second coupling, she knew what to expect, so she raised her hips to accommodate the thrust of his manhood, but he inserted a finger into her passage instead. Pressure. Fullness. Pleasure. She squeezed her muscles. It only got better when he penetrated her with a second digit.
He groaned that satisfied rumble that caused her stomach to flutter every time she heard it and removed his fingers.
