Even though she forced herself to become near to perfectly behaved, it still took her quite some time to get him to trust her enough to let her stay alone in his tent without being restrained throughout an entire day. And, unfortunately, within the first few days of her freedom, she'd already combed through the room as carefully as possible and had found almost nothing that would help her achieve her goal. The only thing of note she found was a large cloak that enveloped her completely, which, if she ever got the chance, she intended to wear to conceal herself, not that it would be all that much of a help.

Her mind harkened back to what he had said when she had tried to go charging out of here that first night—that she was safer here with him than anywhere else, even in his own camp—but there had been more than enough times with him when she knew she would have happily run out of here as fast as she could and let chance decide her fate.

So, she continued to plan to leave, but she had to be smart about it.

It also didn't help her cause that, less than a week later, for some reason, the unwanted feelings she had for him multiplied a thousand-fold. Whenever he came into the room, it was all she could do not to literally throw herself at him, or worse, get down on all fours and present herself to him for breeding. The aromatic essence that she'd been producing during her proximity to him also increased, and she was certain that she was going to go out of her mind if she didn't feel him within her at all times.

Whatever it was, it was making her more emotional, too, and she couldn't help but weep openly and frequently in front of him, no longer able to hide her tears from him in any way. If she stuck closely to what she knew he considered was at the heart of her vow to him, there was very little she was allowed to hide from him, even her sorrow.

When it had first come upon her, she was alone, and had had to spend the afternoon and evening pacing, her body in anguish. Of course, it would be one of those times when he was late. Ebby wasn't sure just how much longer she could stand the emptiness she felt without him. Her entire body yearned and ached for him—it was the only thing she could think about. Her plans to break out of here were necessarily put on hold. She didn't want to leave him now—and that concept was truly horrifying to what was becoming a smaller and smaller part of her.

Ciaran entered his tent that evening, tired from his exertions during the day. They were being harangued by a large, surprisingly well-organized band of cutthroats and thieves, which was nothing unusual. Normally, they would have been defeated quickly and easily, but since the discovery of Ebby and the loss of all of those men, they were having a harder time wiping them out, and after every battle, it just seemed that their opponents came back even harder against them.

As exhausted as he was, he knew something was going on as he closed the door behind him, because she was right there. Ever since he'd decided that she no longer needed to be bound during the day—although he did still keep her naked—she'd never greeted him at the door. She didn't really this time, either, but she did stand very close to him, and he could hear her whimpering slightly, as if she was in pain. She kept looking up at him, then quickly down again, as if she had something she wanted to say to him, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it.

"Ebby, are you all right?" he asked, moving a bit away from her to divest himself of his uniform as he always did.

He'd intended to keep one eye on her, but he didn't need to, because she stuck to his side like glue, one hand up as if she was going to touch him, but then dropped like she thought it might not be a very good idea.

He had been impressed at just how good she had been. He had still had to paddle her little behind occasionally when she forgot herself. That was understandable, and he was never really angry with her about it, although he did deal with each instance quite severely, even though he knew that she was trying to be a good omega. Ciaran firmly believed that anything less than a full-on punishment would provide no impetus for her to strive to be better. He always made certain that the discipline he meted out to her was more than enough of a deterrent that she would have to think long and hard before she decided to disobey him again in that same way.

As it was, he had fallen into the habit of giving her a spanking every evening, even if she hadn't earned one during the day for being naughty, but as a reminder of who she was and that she might expect to receive a sound thrashing at any time. Whether or not she thought she deserved it was completely immaterial.

"Do I need to have you get my belt, little one?" he asked in a kindly tone that was at odds with his words, seeing her give a full-body shudder just at the suggestion.

"N-no, please, Sir." She wrung her hands, taking a small step even nearer to him. "I'm not trying to be defiant or disobedient—I'm really not."

There were tears in her eyes, and he believed her.

"But I don't know how to tell you what's happened to me—it's so bad. I just…" It was then that the fingers she had been fidgeting with the entire time she'd been standing in front of him began to clutch at her crotch and she literally fell to her knees, looking up at him beseechingly as she rocked herself on her own hands. "P-please, Sir? Please?"

Ciaran knew immediately what was happening to her and had indeed been expecting and hoping for just this. If she hadn't offered her little promise to him, he had known that this would eventually decimate her ability to resist him, at least for its duration.

He'd learned over the past few weeks that his little omega was quite intelligent—probably more so than most of the men in his command—but that aside from being bathed in the concept that Alphas were her sworn enemy her entire life—a matter which he didn't bother to debate with her—she had otherwise been kept woefully uninformed about what her rather unusual existence entailed.

It was as if the people who had raised her—who all sounded wonderfully kind and loving and protective of her—thought that they were going to be successful in keeping her completely away from any Alphas, and thus, untainted and in some sort of asexual limbo. As good hearted as they must've thought they were being, they weren't doing her any favors by keeping her as much in the dark as they did.

He leaned down to lift her up and carry her to his bed, noting how her body trembled in his arms. She turned into his embrace—another first—and the way that simple, pure gesture made him feel stunned him, but he shoved those inconvenient emotions aside as they would be of no help to her.

Ciaran lay her down on the bed, then stepped back from the end of it, turning to finish removing his uniform, only to find that she was at his side again, hands held out towards him, but remaining an inch or so from him, as if she was afraid to touch him.

"Girl, where did I just put you?" he scolded, and she sniffled loudly. "Go sit on the end of the bed—you know it's naughty to move yourself from where I've put you."

Ebby hung her head as they both heard the wet dripping sound of her leaking on the carpet. "Yes, Sir." It would be fine with her if he punished her for disobeying him—although she couldn't believe she was thinking that. But at least they would be close together, and she wouldn't feel so alone. She did as she was told, with blatant reluctance, turning her head to stare at him while she was walking, as if she hoped he was going to change his mind and call her back.

When she was back to where she was supposed to be, he turned towards her as he was disrobing, amazed to see that her hands were again between her legs, which stopped him again.

"Ebby. Who owns that cunny?" he asked sternly.

"You, Sir." Her self-stimulation slowed but didn't halt.

More strictly by far, "And are you allowed to touch yourself?"

She shook her head, blushing brightly, and stopped the movements of her hands. "No, Sir," she whispered forlornly.

"That's right. Now put your hands on the bed beside you."

He could see the effort that it took her to do as he asked, but she did.

"Very good." Praise from him—which was always rare—made her flush with pride.

Ciaran reached for his bracers, then thought better of it. "Come here and do this for me. I'll teach you how to do it correctly, and it will give you something else to think about." He hadn't allowed his personal attendant—even though he was quite young—into the tent since he'd gotten her, allowing her to be guarded and waited on only by omega males.

As a distraction, it was only partly successful, but as she worked, he talked to her, injecting a soothing trill here and there that seemed to help center her a bit.

"You needn't worry that you're sick because of the way you're feeling. You're in heat, little girl. It was bound to happen when you've been bred so often—your body is experiencing a heightened state of arousal, which means that you are even more receptive than before to being impregnated by your Alpha."

Even hearing him use that word—impregnated—was too much for her, although, in the back of her mind, she still wanted to scream at the possibility of that outcome. But instead, she crossed her legs tightly together and her hand headed straight for the juncture of her thighs.

But he caught it before it got there, using the leverage it gave him to smack her butt sharply. "Do you think I won't resurrect the bindings I used on you in the beginning?" he asked as he landed swat after swat on a bottom that was kept in a perpetually mottled state.

That would be horrible—she had to be able to touch him—she had to!

"Don't do that to me, please, Sir? Please?" Ebby cringed inside to hear herself begging so, but the time had come that she was no longer in charge of herself.

He was, and even through her fevered haze, the thought made what was left of her stubborn, independent brain go cold.

"The restraints or the spanking, Ebby?"

"Either?" she replied hopefully, knowing she wasn't likely to be granted either boon.

But after reducing her to a storm of tears and doubtful promises of better behavior, he let her go. And, realizing that he was no closer to being undressed than he had been when he'd called her over, Ciaran sent her back to the bed alone for a moment, although he kept a close eye on her.

Again, she surprised him—not by trying to touch herself—but by the way her hips were arching her lower body away from the bed, as if she was rising to meet his thrusts.

His mouth went dry at the thought, and he hurriedly got rid of the least he possibly could in favor of wrapping his hands around those curves of hers and forcing her to conform to his own rhythm. Gone was the "everything in its place" approach to getting out of his uniform as he literally threw things away from himself, not giving a fuck where they landed, leaving his breastplate on and even his boots.

When he arrived in front of her, she was sobbing, her body entirely out of control. She looked up at him, mewling, "I'm so empty—I hurt with it! Please help me—I can't stand it!"

"Shh-shh-shh," he rumbled, laying his hands on her overheated flesh, encouraging her to lie back as he stood at the end of the bed. "I'll take care of you, Ebby. I have what you need. That's it. Let me have you."

There was no foreplay needed. His hands caught her thighs to pull her onto him where he stood, and she literally gushed around him—he could hear as well as feel her accept him, lifting for him this time, which was something she'd never done, even since her vow. She'd submitted, but she hadn't participated. This time, her small hands found his biceps and held on for dear life as he sank fully into her, her guttural groan making his toes curl.

She still cried—and cried out—as he inevitably dug himself into her, but it seemed that the bliss came to her rescue more quickly than it had in the past, and he watched her eyes becoming more and more unfocused as they found his. Her hands came up, as if she wanted to cup his cheeks, but she stopped.

"You can touch me, little one," he encouraged, leaning further over her to make it easier for her to do just that and relieving himself of his chest plate as an invitation. "You can touch me all you like."

Her hands nearly burned his skin, but he loved every second of it, although it seemed that she was not just content with that, but pulled him down to kiss him, too, both the kisses themselves and the idea that she wanted them making him swell two more sizes within her.

It was a night of firsts—first heat, first time she'd touched or kissed him voluntarily, and the first time he'd taken her while lying between her legs, bearded face to translucent skin. And it was extraordinary. He wasn't sure why he hadn't done this before, except that he had wanted to impress on her in one of the most blatant ways possible what the dynamic of their relationship was.

But it seemed that her heat was going to advance that considerably, along with affecting a distinct change in her demeanor towards being bred.

And when it happened for her—more quickly than it ever had—when the violent culmination overtook her, she clung to him in the midst of it, and he loved it. His little omega tore his own orgasm from him and then proceeded to milk him bone dry while he held her and kissed her, playing with her pretty breasts as she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, moaning and clenching and clamping herself around him, her eyes rarely leaving his as he both soothed and incited her to even greater heights.

She collapsed in his arms before the knot he knew she usually hated had entirely gone away, although her body still recognized its presence within her and was reluctant to let him go.

He had her more times that evening—and within the next five days—than he had in all of the time they'd been together. It was if she was in physical pain if he wasn't a part of her body, preferably—or, at the very least, right next to her. And he was at least as eager for her as she was for him.

When they weren't mating or eating, they talked, a new intimacy created between them by the intensity of her heat. It was mostly him, at first, but she joined in, and he found he liked her agile mind. He told her what it had been like to grow up in what passed for a city, trained from very early on to be what he had become, after being raised by his father and grandfather. Both of their omega wives had died in childbirth, including his mother, whom he never really knew.

The frequency with which that loss happened was one of the reasons why the city-state had begun studying omega pregnancies and the fertility of both sexes. They couldn't afford to lose such precious women, so the word had gone out to their subsidiaries, on campaigns like he was, that they were to procure as many medical books in general as they could, but that those involving women's reproductive health, in particular, were the most highly prized.

As a result, their breeding doctors had amassed a considerable library of medical knowledge based on science, whereas, unfortunately, superstition, hearsay and old wives' tales dominated the philosophies about pregnancy in the few surviving regions.

Curious about her, Ciaran asked, "Did you always live in that tiny village?"

Ebby shrugged. "I was found and brought there, so I guess the answer is yes."

"And who taught you to fight, my fierce little warrior?" he teased, drawing her tightly to him.

She knew he was teasing her, but she answered truthfully, nonetheless. "That was Loddi. She was strong and hard and big, like you, and she taught me by beating the crap out of me every single day. It was her method of teaching me what I needed to know. A lot of the scars I've earned are from her. She believed in learning by doing, even if you ended up wounded out of it, as I often did."

His protective instincts rose to the fore, making him stiffen and growl at the idea of her being deliberately put in so much danger, but then, she had lived that way all her life. What he really shuddered at was the possibility that she might have fallen into any hands other than his own, and he knew he owed a great debt to the woman who had done her best to try to teach her to protect herself.

"Is she gone?" He was afraid that he already knew the answer. No one but Ebby had survived that raid.

She paused before answering him, still unable to collect herself, voice full of sorrow and tears. "Killed in front of me. She was the last one they took down before your men captured me. She died defending me."

Ebby was amazed to hear him say this, but he was entirely sincere. "I'm sorry about that. She sounds like a wonderful woman, and I'm glad you know how to defend yourself, although you will have no need of doing so ever again. Anyone who wishes to hurt you would have to get through me first."

It was during those short breaks—before she got restless and either turned to him again or pressed her bottom to him in a true spirit of complete supplication and submission that he could not resist—that he realized just what a gem he'd stumbled on when they began to talk about books.

"You read?" There, he couldn't succeed in keeping the incredulity out of his tone.

"I do. Loddi and one of the older women in particular, Gatu, loved to read. They found out when I was very young that I could remember every story that I was told. Once they taught me to read, I could see every page in my mind, as if I was holding the book in front of me, and recite from memory anything I had read. So, I was given every book they found—not that they really found many." Still a little shy with him, she peeped up at him from where her head was resting on his broad chest. "While you held me cruelly captive, that was what I did."

He gave her a bit of a warning look at her teasing, asking, "What did you do?"

"I read the books I had in my head. I'd be glad to read them to you any time you'd like."

Ciaran grinned. "None of them had anything in them about Alphas and omegas, though, I'd bet."

"No, they didn't," she blushed.

"What did they tell you about Alphas?"

He felt her stiffen against his side. "To be afraid of them. That if I allowed myself to be captured, my fate would not be a good one. I could be killed outright—that would be the most merciful thing. Or I could be sold to the highest bidder, or just flat out raped, and that once an Alpha had had me, I would lose myself and simply become a breeder for him."

Ciaran cringed inwardly at what she must think of where she'd ended up, but he could hardly apologize for it, so he said nothing. And knowing that what he so fervently wanted was what she had dreaded all her life—and probably still did now—brought back his concerns that he might lose her, somehow, either by her own hand or someone else's.

And so, he did the only thing he could do—he took her again, being deliberately rough and demanding and unrelenting, knowing that it was the only way to strengthen the bond he'd created between them.

And—far from cringing away from him, she met him stroke for stroke, devastating him as thoroughly as he did her.