Absolute Power: Alpha's Control Prelude

by Addison Cain

  The Alpha spoke with such carelessness, “If she dies, you die next.”

  No. Brenya’s purpose was to protect life, her oaths sworn every morning since she was old enough to stand. Breath coming in short pants, she tried to focus. Her good hand reached out, gathering the Alpha’s sleeve in her fist. “Don’t hurt him.”

  A low chuckle came from the male stroking her cheek. Running his fingertips over her lips, he said, “Look at me, mon chou.”

  She tried. After blinking repeatedly, she centered upon her personal hell. Him. It was hard to focus, but she saw the tawny gold of his hair, she saw eyes brighter than the water at the fountain.

  “Good girl.” Lips that were defined and full pressed against hers. “You want to help him? Then you must recover. Once you do, I’ll be yours to command.”

  At her groaned complaint, noise reverberated more loudly from his chest. Only then did she realize the Alpha was purring—had been purring all along.

  Brenya had heard of this thing. Once or twice she’d even experienced a muted copy, but to feel an Alpha purr was unlike anything she’d known. It wasn’t just the sound. That noise moved through a body, it shook tired places… it settled. Even terrified as she was, she melted.

  Or had, until a cramp made the tender flesh between her legs sear. Gasping, she reached down and felt a fresh flow of liquid rush from her body.

  The Alpha’s overbearing musk began to stink like it had in the alley. She did not need to open her eyes to know he’d licked his lips.

  “She’s wetting through the sheet again. It might not be continuous, but her slick grows more abundant. My Omega will endure. Soon, I will be able to claim her.”

  “Not soon. You tore her, Jacques. The vaginal fissures…” The older male approached. To Brenya’s horror, he flipped up the sheet covering her lower half. But before he might touch her, a feral growl rent the air. The sound of a weighty bulk slammed against the wall, it shook the room, and the old man’s groans led her to lean up.

  As she was pushed back down, Brenya saw a small woman heavy with child trying to help a grey-haired old man to stand. Awkward as she was with so large a belly, she didn’t stop until her shoulder was under his, until she faced her host and my captor.

  “Jacques, enough.”

  “Go to your husband, Annette. Tell him what you saw here, and know he will laud me for not killing the fool who thought to expose my estrous high mate.”

  Brenya could not see clearly enough to see if the woman scorned such a statement. But she heard no complaint, only the sound of a door unlatching before two ponderous bodies squeezed through.

  Then they were alone.

  The injection, the morphine, was doing its work. She was muted, caught in a place where the ceaseless purr was so distracting she wanted to swim through it. Even the pain began to dissipate.

  His face, she could not stop looking at his face. Alphas were visually appealing. They looked different than Betas, more refined… bigger. Still, she would have rather had any other man in the world smiling down at her.

  “None of this is your fault, Brenya.” His hand edged nearer where the sheet was sticky with what had gushed from her body. “You’ve been the ideal citizen. As Commodore, I commend you. Now, mon chou, you have a new task. You are to get better, the rest we can discuss afterward.”

  She felt a squiggle between her legs. A slender warmth breached her, pumped cautiously through the river flowing from her private place.

  As he fingered her, he spoke. “I owe you an ocean of apologies for what transpired when we met. You are the first Omega born under Bernard Dome in three generations. I may have been overzealous in securing you once I caught your scent.”

  There was a sting, a stretch between her legs, the Alpha adding another finger to prod and twist inside.

  “What are you doing?”

  The beast had the audacity to smile. “Only I can offer what your body needs, sweet girl. You’re in a form of estrous. Without stimulation you will suffer.”

  Before she might try to squirm away, she was flipped carefully onto her belly, his weight settling on her back. Strong arm tucked under her hip, those same fingers went right back into their slippery home, even with her legs pressed tightly shut. On and on it went until Brenya was certain she was going mad.

  Pump, squirm, twist, part—over and over, until she hissed that what he was doing was not enough. She had not meant to, could not tell you what had possessed her to moan as she did. At her loudest drugged complaint, she was pressed again to her back, the massive man lowering between spread thighs. His fingers continued to gently spear her, but it was his mouth that made her scream.

  There was no shame as he smiled and flicked his tongue over swollen lower lips. He tormented her clitoris, sucking, rolling, and dragging it about while his hand twisted until she thought she might go mad.

  The fever, the pain, was forgotten. Brenya saw white, pure light, remembered the warmth of the breeze outside the Dome. For a moment, she was certain she could smell jasmine.

  At the moment the little death came upon her, his teeth skimmed her inner thigh. He bit down. When the skin broke, it was the most exquisite pain.

  Chapter 3

  “More…”

  Warm air moved over Brenya’s ear, the weight of thick limbs circling like a python squeezing its prey. “What do you need, dearest?”

  She was not fully awake, and it took her a moment to recognize that she had been the first to speak. Blinking, she took in the room. Around where she was kept, curtains had been drawn, enclosing herself and her captor in shadows. Linen under her nose was wrinkled and heady with male scent and the acrid stink of her perspiration.

  Everything was muddled, all Brenya held were fragments of memory, but sometimes she knew to be afraid. She was lying in his bed—these were his rooms where she had been forced to convalesce.

  In her stupor over the last few days, more than once she’d tried to leave, stumbling drunkenly from bed as if she might find a door in the dark. Each time, muscled arms had swept her up, returning her to the cocoon of soft blankets and strong limbs.

  The other half of the time her mind was so fogged she forgot to be afraid, forgot where she was. Everything converged into simple sensation. Sometimes the male exercised the power to make her feel very good. Other times, just his presence, the lightest brush of his touch was agony.

  The air was so saturated, she could taste him in every breath, was so soaked in his sweat, she felt as if that aroma must have seasoned her down to her bones.

  “Shhhhh, Brenya.” Sensation trickled down her spine, the Alpha crouching over her, running his tongue down each vertebrae. He kneaded the space between her shoulder blades, tugged gently at the roots of her hair. “Be still and peaceful.”

  Teeth came to her earlobe, his great weight settling over her back. Something about the way he crushed her against the bed, every time he had done it, quieted fear. He took control. She emptied her mind because she had no other choice. Tranquility was enforced.

  These short lapses of peace never lasted. Something would invade reason… his smell, the weight of his body. Brenya would find her head turned, her cheek to his neck. Sometimes in the fever, she relished the burn his skin inflicted on hers. Once she’d even found herself licking that muscled column much to his delight.

  And then excruciating pain came.

  It tore at her insides until she screamed.

  Gods how she hated it, what he’d do to her when agony twisted her limbs. His weight would abate. She would be uncurled no matter how she fought him, and forced to lay upon her back. Each of her wrists would be shackled in a grip of iron, arms spread open while she raged.

  His answer to her suffering was to watch her and make her watch him.

  He would talk. More often than not, Brenya did not understand a word.

  “It’s time to listen to me, mon chou.” When he spoke so coolly and she felt so horrid, she longed to claw out his eyes.

  �
�Brenya, I’ll tie you to the bed if I must.”

  She fought to be free, biting.

  The Alpha barked, “Cease this unit 17C!”

  Instantly, still as a corpse she lay, eyes staring straight ahead, anticipating orders.

  “Open your legs for me.”

  She didn’t, but relaxed the stranglehold keeping them together.

  “Unit 17C, have I harmed you once since you woke in this bed?”

  Staring at the ceiling, eyes unfocused, she said, “I am an engineering grunt. My assignment is outer Dome maintenance. I am late to my post.”

  Sterner, he gave her a little shake. “Have I given you pain?”

  There was a wave of unfamiliar feeling. All at once Brenya felt very sad, completely alone, and really needed to pee. She looked at the Alpha tormenting her and whined, “My arm hurts.”

  A smile split that sculpted face. The tip of his tongue licked up her tears. “Poor darling, the dislocated joint will be uncomfortable for some time. But, did I cause that pain?”

  “No.” He had caused the pain everywhere else. “I fell down the side of the Dome.”

  Her wrists were joined above her head so he might hold them with just one hand. The tips of his free fingers moved from her brow, down the edge of her face, to hook and stroke from jaw to chin. “You woke asking for something. Tell me, mon chou, what you desire?”

  It was the feeling, the weight of that part of him that was always engorged, always erect. The heftiness of his cock draped over her belly, the slide of him a little slippery from sweat and the tiny, scented drips that continued to fall from his fat crown, they were magnetic.

  Her eyes automatically went to that swollen member. More fluid pulsed from its tip, pooling at her navel.

  The man groaned when he followed her line of sight. Reaching between them, his finger collected the sticky glob. Her jaw was pinched until teeth parted, and between her lips that mess was smeared.

  This was not the first time.

  The very thought of what he was doing disgusted her, the way he forced it in, the way he made sure it was spread all over her tongue. But the taste, oh my gods, the taste had a power of its own. She sucked it from his fingers like a starving woman might lap honey straight from a buzzing hive.

  Another of those cramps came, ushering after it a wave of warm fluid. Brenya released every last drop of what she had been struggling to retain. Slippery, the puddle grew, and her cramping stopped. Eyes burning in shame to have made another mess, she could never understand why the Alpha smiled each time she’d ruined the bed.

  As if he could read her thoughts, he pulled his fingers from her lips and looked at what saturated the linen. His hand slipped over soggy sheets, cupping what he could catch, moving to her belly to rub it into soft skin. “This is beautiful to me, Brenya. Omegas are supposed to secrete slick for their Alphas. You honor me. There is no need to try and hold it in.”

  Fully ashamed, she found her tongue. “What is slick?”

  “Omegas create abundant lubrication to ease the entrance of an Alpha’s cock. You produce it now because you are sexually aroused.”

  Sex…

  She could feel the burn between her legs as if reliving the nightmare when he’d shoved that part of his body into hers. “Don’t do it again. Don’t, please. Oh Gods, pleeeease!” She could not stop herself, was practically groveling at the memory of the wall at her back, the terror. “I am sorry I looked at the flowers. I didn’t mean to break my helmet. I never observed the butterfly, it just landed there.”

  “Hush, hush, hush…” His hand slithered between their bodies until the part of her that trembled and wept was touched. Cautiously, he pushed two digits inside. “We will suffer through this tainted estrous together, and until you have healed and are properly prepared, I swear I will not fuck you again. You have my word. What happened in Beta Sector, my loss of control, I will atone for it. I will deny myself release no matter the rut. Do not be afraid.”

  Muscles clenched around his fingers, her mouth letting loose a low moan when he twisted deeper. “Why is no one stopping this?”

  “Breathe, Brenya.” His tongue swept her mouth, slithered down her throat, between her breasts, all the way down to where he pressed her thighs apart. “You are safe, and I will never hurt you.”

  And then it began all over again.

  She squealed as his fingers toyed with the nerves inside her body, sobbed at the rough feel of his tongue moving through tender folds. The following screams were not inspired by pain.

  No, those shrieks belonged to hysteria and the strange sense that she was going insane.

  “You seem very satisfied with yourself, Jacques.” A man, another large Alpha bearing an impossibly deep voice, spoke from across the parlor.

  The male stood far from where Brenya sat, his bulk leaning against the door. His hair was long, dark, and bound back into a queue—worn in the same fashion as all other Alpha males. One look at him had made her frown.

  She recalled his cat-like features from the alley when Jacques had…

  The dark-haired one had stood at a distance then too, watching while his host had fucked her senseless. He had watched, and he had done nothing. “I remember you.”

  Head dipping once, the terms of their first meeting were acknowledged. “You look well.”

  An upwelling of spite distorted her voice. “You didn’t help me. An Alpha’s duty is to protect Betas. That is your purpose in our population.”

  The stranger across the room spoke calmly. “When you come to understand the importance of that moment, you will forgive me.”

  Her brows fell. This new room, this parlor, was as bad as the bedroom. Her former barracks were infinitely superior. They were organized, for one. Everything had its place. Here there was just glittering stuff that served no purpose.

  There was a cup of tea in her hand. Her nakedness was covered in soft clothing. No longer was she dirty, burrowed in sticky sheets, the weight of Jacques’s body holding her down in the dark. This room was bright, the surroundings rich, sunlight abundant. Under her feet was a rug so sumptuous, pressing bare toes to it felt unnatural. The chair she had been placed in was covered in silk damask, the texture of it slippery and cool. Brenya had never seen items like this in Beta Sector. Everything from the papered walls, to the opulent ornamentation, was alien.

  She longed for the familiar grey of her jumpsuit. Uniforms made all equal. This strange, diverse clothing these peculiar people wore did not make sense.

  At her side, that familiar vibration began, his purr growing louder until she took a deep breath and sank back into the chair.

  Going back to his Alpha guest’s original question, Jacques, my captor, smiled, drinking me in. “And why should I not be pleased, Ancil? My mate is perfect.”

  Mate…

  That word was foreign to Brenya.

  “Mon chou, say hello to my friends, Ancil, Bernard Dome’s Security Advisor, and his wife, Annette.”

  Only very close intimates used given names. Even Jacques had never told her his name. She’d only heard others speak it. Names were personal these people were strangers. Her lips parted, protocol all Brenya had to rely on in this new, unsettling place. “I am Unit 17C of Palo Corps.”

  The third, and least menacing guest, pouted. The petite blonde Beta woman Brenya vaguely remembered standing over her that first day had a sweet look to her, a delicacy brought out by her floral dress and round belly. “But your name, dear, is Brenya. What we were before is left behind when we are called by an Alpha.”

  The Beta female’s explanation did not seem to please Jacques. His voice quiet, his intentions loud, he spoke, “Centrists do not use designations. You have been reassigned here, and will follow your Commodore’s directives. Now, introduce yourself properly to our guests.”

  Annette’s kind suggestion, her reasons, had not shifted Brenya’s feelings on the topic. But as if Jacques understood how she was wired, how much she clung to procedure, his orders focuse
d her thoughts. Face blank, voice robotic, she obeyed. “My name is Brenya Perin.”

  Purring loudly, stern, he leaned closer. “And what are you?”

  “An engineering grunt responsible for the exterior maintenance of Bernard Dome.”

  “No.” Hardening his expression, the man lowered his chin and very slowly shook his shining head in the negative. Eating up every last ounce of her awareness, he growled, “You are an Omega, mon chou.”

  She felt as if he’d put the words on her tongue. They were not hers, they tasted foreign, and she did not want to swallow them down. “I am an Omega.”

  “Good girl.”

  Those watching may have found such an offering sweet, but Brenya saw the predator in those glinting teeth. Right there in the gleam of Jacques’s eyes laid a promise her soul was his.

  No one in this room questioned what he’d done, or how she’d come to be there. Not one of them seemed to care that she wanted out.

  Jacques possessed more than total control.

  When her eyes floated to Annette, the pregnant woman favored her with a kind smile and wink. “I’ve known Jacques since I was a little girl, and have never seen him dote on anyone… or heard him speak so gently.” Giggling, utterly impish, she added, “With the Commodore under your thumb, you could rule the world.”

  Brenya didn’t know what the designation Commodore meant. She didn’t understand anything here.

  “Annette.” The hissed reprimand had come from the dark-haired Alpha at her back. Ancil was not at all pleased with his wife. “Your wit is not appreciated. You will watch your tongue before the Commodore.”

  Waving a hand and glancing over her shoulder to her husband, Annette disagreed. “He doesn’t mind. His mate is bored, that’s why we’re here. You men can blather to one another with politic speech in parliament. We’re at tea, and I would like to see Brenya smile.”