"Did Garron send you?" he asked for the thousandth time.

Tired to the point of exhaustion – even with a full belly – Emmy rubbed her temple then dragged her hand along her cheek, answering him for the thousand and first time. "I don't know who Garron is." She already knew what his next question was going to be, although he might phrase it a bit differently.

He'd obviously been trained in interrogation techniques.

"How did you come to be here? I've been watching you for days."

That was an alarming statement.

"There was no trail to the cave, except from that big building or from the cave to the big building."

"That's all there would be, since I originated – for all intents and purposes – in the lab."

He jumped on that, as he had previously. "But you were all alone? No one lets a female travel like that, with no protection."

"Well, I didn't really travel, per se..."

He did not appreciate her vagueness, considering it evasive, instead. His eyes narrowed. "You had no bond. What Alpha would allow his Omega to wander away from him at all, but unbonded? Was he stupid? Or careless? Or were you just that disobedient? You bear no marks at all, not even those of a serious punishment, which you are obviously in desperate need of as a runaway slave."

At the Institute, before they'd put them into stasis, it had been recommended to them that – if it was not scientists who greeted them when they came out of stasis – that they stick as closely to the truth as they could for their own safety, not knowing what it was that they would be facing when they awoke.

So, Emily had done that. She had explained to him – calmly and quietly – that she had gone to sleep in another time, and that she'd only just awakened in this one, but he seemed very suspicious of her story and considering what appeared to have happened to the planet, Emily really couldn't blame him. That kind of thing seemed well beyond current capabilities.

She had tried to get him to tell her what year it was, but he seemed confused by that question, and mentioning things that he didn't understand only managed to irritate him.

And considering what she'd seen him do to three different people – who were, granted, all men – didn't give her a warm fuzzy feeling about making this mountain of a man angry.

Frankly, she was surprised that she was able to answer him at all, his presence so near to her as he stood, pacing occasionally around the plain, wooden chair that had obviously been built to accommodate someone of his stature. The chair in which she was sat – was far from conducive to thinking – as far as she was concerned – even though he was wearing more now than he had been when she'd met him.

He seemed to be better at controlling his responses to her, although she could see the telltale signs that he was far from unaffected by her proximity to him.

And, somehow, having his nakedness covered was even worse than it being there on display before her. She knew what lay beneath the way his shirt stretched nearly to the breaking point over the chiseled curves of his chest, the intimidating thickness of his biceps, not to mention how obscenely the thin cotton fabric of his pants outlined what she could see was his impressive – and distinctly intimidating – full blown erection.

Perhaps that was why he didn't bother to control himself further, she mused. The blatant evidence of his desire would remind her, every time she looked at him, just how easily he could subdue her – with her body aiding and abetting him through the whole, humiliating process.

"How do you know he didn't?" she shot back at him finally, triumphantly.

That dangerous smile was back as he came to stand next to her, inclining his head while he looked down at her, causing both her stomach and her privates to contract painfully. "Because…" he answered. He reached down to lift her off the chair suddenly, stopping in the middle of his otherwise very smooth transition to stare down at the pool of feminine cream she had left on his chair. There was an annoyingly satisfied look on his face, which he maintained as he unflinchingly sat himself down in the midst of her wetness, then positioned her astride him.

She wondered just when he had managed to divest himself of his pants before realizing it was already too late to avoid the inevitable.

As he lifted her once more – ignoring her laughable attempts to stop him – and placed her onto the imposing head of his cock.

She shook her head. And as he then began to forcibly, if slowly, torturously, lower her onto it, he continued, "Within seconds of meeting you, you were knotted – and thus bonded – by and to me."

And when Emmy was sure that her traitorous body, which had kept her continually prepared for just this – that which it seemed to crave beyond all else, she was mortified to discover – had taken all of him that she was physically capable of, he again proved her wrong. Caused by the fact that the chair was so tall that no matter how she pointed her toes, she couldn't make contact with the floor to save herself from his possession, he used her precarious balance against her. Locking his eyes with hers, while holding her still by one of those massive hands at the back of her neck, the other on her hip, he snapped his hips viciously upwards. Driving the already swelling knot of flesh past her body's natural resistance, he allowed himself to settle back just slightly to create a seal, as well as sinking his own body's natural hook into the flesh of the most sensitive internal spot she owned.

He leaned forward, his hot, heavy breath puffing out over her face. "You are bonded to me. Your body craves the submission to mine that only I can bring it. We are physically attached to each other – me to you, you to me. No man will ever know you this way again besides me." Then he rumbled into her ear, "Tell me you are mine."

She cried out at his painful invasion, her body still quite sore from their last encounter. Again, feeling her still tender flesh caught on him at one end and stretched to the breaking point at the other. Those sharp moans were still mere shams, each of them, because although they were certainly inspired by the discomfort of what he was forcing on her body, it was so fleeting and so indelibly mixed with the ultimate in ecstasy that both cries immediately blended into agonized moans of a very different kind.

At first, she still had the presence of mind to try to fight him, however futile that might have been, but then she had yet to come to the realization of just how little control she really had in this new life.

He brushed her tiny hands aside like so many annoying flies, until they apparently buzzed around him one too many times and he gathered them – along with the majority of her long hair – at the small of her back, causing her to have to arch her back to relieve the tension on her scalp.

She had ignored his demand for her to admit something she vowed she never would, but somehow his actions – him restricting her movements even more than he already was – prompted Emmy to find her too long silent voice. "No – stop!" she panted breathlessly, "Please! I don't want this!"

His chuckle rumbled against the starkly peaked nipple that proved her words false, easily deep and powerful enough to reverberate throughout her entire body as he nipped at it, pinching it tightly between his canines as he threatened, "If defying me earned you a spanking, what do you think lying to me will get you, little girl?"

Her breath – and another degrading plea to stay him from his goal – caught in her suddenly parched throat, the tense way she was holding her body amplifying his every movement within her.

And again, as before, soon after he'd anchored himself within her, as he expanded to a proportion that left her exposed clit nowhere to go as his girth rubbed relentlessly against it, he let fly his seed with such explosive power that she could actually feel it. She could feel herself being captively, helplessly bred to him, pumped full of him, wanting to weep despondently but unable to do so as she found herself in the throes of yet another frighteningly long, powerful orgasm. It only seemed to become increasingly, terrifyingly violent, as if the injection of his cum was some sort of aphrodisiac in and of itself.

Of course, he held her fast throughout it all, his eyes never leaving a face that she tilted away from him as he watched her convulse helplessly around him. His flesh feeding off the pleasure it subjected hers to, until he was spent in every conceivable sense of the word, although not enough to let go of her, knowing she was even more weakened by the experience than he was, and that his hands on her were the only things keeping her from crumpling to the floor.

Although, when he pulled out of her, he had been careful to lift her a little, off the barb at the end of his penis that inevitably sank each time into the most sensitive area within her to stimulate it. As well as providing another method of anchoring him inside her while he actively bred her – then the rest of him, she cried out each time, the second – more traumatic – dislodging causing her to dissolve into tears.

As soon as those hands put her feet to the floor and let go of her hips, she ran for the bed, immediately curling herself into a small ball of misery, facing the wall and weeping piteously. He didn't join her there, and she fought down the feelings of neglect and abandonment that rose within her when she realized he wasn't going to, even though she didn't want him to, forcing herself to replace those emotions with pure, unadulterated anger.

Where he had gone, she had no idea – to burn in hell, she hoped.

But she couldn't be that lucky.

Instead, she found her legs pried apart – gently but insistently, then pressed back and open so that he could get at the area he had just left off abusing – the one that least wanted him to continue his attentions.

Or so she told herself, although, deep down she knew, that even now, even as horribly sore and achy as he had left her, her body would still welcome him – and ensure that she enjoyed it – even as their fluids mingled and pooled beneath her already.

It wasn't his cock or his lips or his tongue that she felt pressed there, against her. Instead, he laid a cool, wet cloth onto her, not rubbing in any way, but adjusting carefully each time he moved it, pulling it entirely away then pressing it against her again.

And it felt much better than she wanted it to, soothing and assuaging her overworked, overstretched, over-satisfied flesh, and she wailed when she felt herself contract hard each time his hands touched her intimately, even through the barrier of the fabric.

When he finished one round, he rose and refreshed the cloth, then repeated his caring actions again – after prying her back out of her ball of misery again – addressing her from stem to stern before leaving the cloth in the bathroom and coming to stare down at her for a long moment. During which she forced herself to ignore him completely, even though she could feel his heated gaze on her flesh – then he stalked out of the room, finally.

And, as she lay on her side again, hugging her legs up to her chest, every movement making her hurt somewhere, there was no mistaking the sound of a lock clicking into place before he walked away.

She was asleep when he returned, not waking even when he sank down onto the bed, not until his hand began to rub her back lazily. Not thinking, Emmy stretched then stopped with a yelp as soon as her muscles – and elsewhere – began to protest, rolling carefully onto her back before she saw that there was someone else in the room with them. Sitting up suddenly, wishing she hadn't when she realized she had no way of protecting herself from his curious gaze.

To her surprise, the man who had supposedly "bonded" with her – whatever that meant – didn't seem at all concerned that another man was looking at her naked, despite the fact that he'd killed three men who'd just tried to get near her when she was fully covered. In fact, he rose and took his seat – the only one in the room – while the other man came to stand before her.

"I am Favus, ma'am," he began, executing a small bow.

Well, apparently manners hadn't been lost to everyone in this era.

As she filed away the fact that apparently not all men were damned near giants – which she found a comforting thought – Emmy automatically extended her hand to him. "I'm –"

Only to be rudely interrupted by someone who didn't seem to have the same appreciation of courtesy as she did.

"There's no need to get chummy with her. You're here to examine her, not to claim her."

Examine? She didn't like the sound of that word one bit, and she began to try to scramble across the bed, away from her new acquaintance, not that she would have anywhere to go once she made it there – the bed was up against a wall on that side.

Her captor rose again – and every time she saw him do that, she couldn't help but marvel at the sheer size of him – coming to stand at the end of the bed, blocking her last chance of escape – not that she'd had a real one to begin with.

"Lie down on the bed and let the doctor examine you, girl," he ordered deceptively softly, pinning her with his gaze.

"No." She stood, crouching as if she would leap past the both of them and sprint to the door, when the truth was that she was still so weak, she wasn't sure how much longer she was going to be able to remain upright.

Emmy thought she heard the big man sigh. He acted so swiftly that she didn't have time to dwell on it. Leaning across the bed to sweep one big leg-sized arm across her legs, he dropped her quickly and efficiently to the bed without injury, joining her there, where he rolled her onto her back and held her as he reached down to catch her knees and crane them back towards her head, exposing her completely to this total stranger.

His arm lay across her throat – not threatening her breathing in any way – yet – or she would have craned her head up and bitten whatever she could have reached.

Instead, she had to lie there, while small, fat fingers felt her parted lips, pinched her clit so hard she shrieked, and then inserted at least one finger – perhaps two – inside her to root rudely around in there.

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" she screamed, feeling a bit of satisfaction when the big man cringed a bit at her shrill pitch, which wasn't that surprising, considering his ear was mere inches from her mouth.

But she couldn't keep it up, and the examination seemed to go on and on – and his fingers weren't the only thing he used on her. She knew the feeling of a speculum sliding into her – without the benefit of lubrication, not that she really needed it any more, she supposed – then ratcheted – it and her – loudly open.

Click.

Click.

Click.

As the man bent between legs spread and held open against her will, he asked, "You've had her already, obviously?"

Her captor nodded.

"My congratulations, on having found the rarest of the rare, milord. There is no doubt in my mind that she is exactly what you think she is – an Omega. And you've obviously already brought her into estrus. You've been able to hook her?"

"Yes."

"And she took it well?"

"Very well," was his smug reply.

She could see a light of some sort coming from where the supposed doctor was positioned. "She's still quite swollen there – which could be partly a result of the heat that she is most obviously in. Knotting occurred?"

"Oh yes."

"She's very tight, but I see no tears, and she's obviously producing more than enough natural lubrication to accept you without too much trouble – although you don't want to make it too easy on her. It's the combination of the two sensations – the pain and the pleasure – that brings her to orgasm, which then milks you, and the presence of your semen within her prolongs her bliss. The longer you can hold her in pleasure, the better your chances of breeding her are." The doctor rose and went to the bathroom to wash his hands, reappearing to say, "But then, I'm not telling you anything you didn't already know, milord. Keep at her as often as you like – it's your cock within her – and, to a lesser extent, your presence near her – that keeps her in heat – and she'll soon be caught."

"She's been quite sore..."

"And so she will be, until she becomes more used to being bred by a bull such as yourself, although that might never go away completely, considering how you will pierce her each time, not to mention the great disparities in your sizes. As long as you do not see any blood, there is no cause for concern. She may well remain tender, and thus somewhat reluctant because of it, I should imagine. I don't think I've ever seen a woman who was less built to accommodate a man such as yourself – she's much too tiny for you, although I trust you know how to overcome her objections."

He still had not allowed her to get up – as they carried on this conversation, like she wasn't even there. She was still fully exposed to the both of them – still dripping juices onto the bed, around the instrument that was inside her. "But you don't see any problems with her in regards to carrying? Not even her age?"

Emmy was automatically insulted at the idea that she was old, although she wisely said nothing. She was only twenty-three, for crying out loud! Well, granted, she'd been twenty-three for quite some time now...

"We might have to consider a caesarian, but it would depend on the size of the baby. That's something we'll decide when it happens. But rest assured, barring disease, injury or another war, she'll have many years of fertility left for you to avail yourself of." The doctor removed the speculum, washed it and put it away, she did not know where.

Finally, he got up, walking with the other man to the door. "Thank you, doctor," he said, clapping him on the shoulder in a manner that looked as if he was trying to be friendly, but nearly knocking him down anyway.

The smaller man bowed low to him. "I appreciate your patronage, milord. May you get many strong sons off this one. And may I say how happy we all are that you have found your mate."

The poor little man didn't get a chance to say anything else, because he found himself literally shoved out the door, the younger, stronger, much bigger man remaining on her side of it. Unfortunately for her, leaning back against the door, looking at her and tilting his head slowly back and forth as he did so, as if he was trying to consider her from all angles.

He was making her uneasy – she nearly snorted at the thought. She'd never not be – couldn't imagine a time when she'd ever not be uneasy around him. And all that talk about breeding her – as if she was a horse or a dog or something – only added to her discomfort.

This time, when he took her, it was much quicker, as if he'd just been waiting for the doctor to leave them alone to get at her – not that it was any less devastatingly blissful. He wasn't nearly as careful as he had been of her, either, and she was sure that she had the good doctor to thank for that, too.

There was no slow advance, no mouth on her clit. He had stood there next to the bed, where she had wrapped herself into a bedclothes cocoon, needing to feel less exposed than she had been for so long while the doctor examined her, sniffing the air loudly, and with increasingly heavy breaths.

Emmy tried to ignore the way her body was already responding to his actions, already preparing her to receive him, trying to will herself to ignore him as much as possible.

Or perhaps, instead, distract him.

"Why did you allow the doctor to see me like that when you killed those men who were running towards me when we came in?" she asked.

He reached down, grabbed the edge of the sheet and began to tug. "Why do you care?"

"I'm just curious."

"Because he's a breeding doctor."

"Doctors don't want women?"

He frowned down at her as if she was touched for having asked that.

"Of course not – he's a eunuch, like all of his kind. Else wise, no Alpha in his right mind would trust him to treat his woman."

Emmy couldn't suppress a surprised chuckle. "Of course? In my time, there were almost no eunuchs."

This time, his face revealed that he thought she was a lying imbecile, and she was surprised – albeit thankful – that it didn't result in some sort of a punishment. She guessed that as long as it didn't involve something to do with him, he didn't care about the truth.

Or maybe he thought she was crazy, and thus expected a certain amount of ranting from her.

It didn't really matter what he thought of her. It mattered what he did to her – fast, hard, breathtaking, and completely overpowering. One minute, she was her own person, on her own, empty, and the next she was weeping at both ends at how ripped open she felt as he settled first the unusual catch at the tip of himself into her, causing Emmy to squirm and try to avoid the pain of it, to no avail. Then, immediately afterwards, he hammered the already quite swollen, throbbing base of his penis up into her reluctant body. The vehemence with which he did so dislodging the catch so that he had to do it again until she was well and truly caught – quite literally hung up on him as he watched her trying – and losing – the fight against her baser nature that this position always seemed to force her into.

"Relax," he whispered as she jerked and strained beneath him. "There is no escape. I don't care if the fairy tales you spin are the truth. They are of no consequence to you, regardless. This is what you want, what you need. It is who and what you are now. Make it easier on yourself and accept it." His eyes caught her tear-filled ones. "Tell me you are mine."

"Never!" She envisioned spitting the word into his face, but that was not at all how it came out. He had mastered her again, so humiliatingly easily, that the force of her unwanted orgasm diminished it until it simply blended into the cries of ecstasy he wrung from her unwilling body. Coercing her flesh into compliance with him, into joining the war against her, enticing it with unbelievable, unrelenting bliss, until, when he finally disconnected them, she was already unconscious beneath him from sheer exhaustion.