Chapter 14

 

Never in her life had Morgaine seen anything like it—that type of rage, that total loss of control.

The second she was alone, she darted from the foreigner’s sleeping pit, threw on the shreds of her clothing, and grabbed the first potential weapon she could get her hands on.

A broken bit of metal, the edge sharp enough to cut into her palm as she gripped it.

The layout of his rooms was unfamiliar, but she ran through them looking for a decent place to hide or a way to get out. The wash chamber was too small, the room for food consumption too sparse. There was a living area with a view of space. In there, she saw they had left her planet, that a company of ships flew at their side.

The weight of it left her reeling.

She was alone in space, stupidly hiding in a dark room from a male whom she been given to like a sacrificial lamb.

…as if he’d never find her.

The ridiculousness was not lost. Morgaine looked down at the sharp sliver in her hand, saw the way she clutched the ruined dress over her breasts, and knew hopelessness.

Whatever he had in store for her, she could not stop it.

Running the back of her hand over flushed cheeks, she wiped the tears away, and straightened her shoulders to face him with the last bits of pride she could muster.

The sound of the Alpha returning could be heard in the other room. Swallowing back a sick feeling, she turned from the view, standing so he would see her when he checked this final room. It did not take him long.

Still naked, his flaccid cock hanging thick and foreboding between his legs, he strode in with a scowl. Shorter and less muscular, a fully dressed man followed and immediately averted his eyes.

This frazzled companion was clearly a Beta like the men in her settlement—the first Beta she had seen in days.

The Alpha began to speak, his voice low, calm, almost poetic in its velvety meter. He even purred.

A moment later the Beta translated. “Our Heidron would like to know who struck you and why.”

What did it matter? What did any of this matter?

Morgaine tightened her grip on her makeshift weapon, felt the skin on her palm split until warm blood dripped down the blade. When the Heidron sniffed the air and darted a glance to her hand, when it looked as if he prepared to approach, Morgaine narrowed her eyes, and growled at the pair of them. “I was taken from my mother, forced to endure lessons on how to be a proper Omega, threatened constantly with unwanted male attention, and watched every minute of every day. I was struck because I disliked it.”

The words were fed back to the Alpha, the one watching her bleeding hand with his own narrow-eyed gaze. He did not find her answer satisfactory.

The Beta asked again. “Who struck you and why?”

Morgaine found the question pointless considering the brute who’d asked it, and snarled, “The day before you arrived, I laid down in the glass cage and ignored the rude questions and vulgar demands of the Alphas who came to bid on me. The commandant assured that I would not be able to sit or lie down again the next day. He ordered five strikes of a cane. The sergeant responsible for my transition carried out the sentence, adding in an extra strike for good measure. The Alpha with the greatest claim to me held me down, though he offered to take my punishment upon himself.”

Every word was fed back to the one staring at her. His eyes went to hers when he spoke for the Beta to translate. “You smell like fear.”

Her lip shook. “You’re very scary.”

“And you believe you can fend me off with that broken bit of metal?”

Morgaine glanced down at her bloody weapon. “No, but if I get you angry enough, you will kill me more quickly.”

He paced toward her, pried the shard from her numb fingers, and threw it to crash against the nearest wall. “A weapon will not work unless you are willing to wield it, girl. I suggest never raising one to me again.”

Taking her bleeding palm in his hand, he inspected the shallow wound.

The last traces of pride and bravery vanished when he licked it. “If you are angry about the marks on my back, I was assured they would not scar.”

His palm cupped her cheek, fingers curling around her skull. A smear of her blood on his lips, he rumbled, the translation following. “I am angry about the wounds. Very angry. But I am not angry with you.”

Unsure what to say, Morgaine closed her eyes, a long breath leaving her chest. Again, he put her cheek to his chest, his hand to her hair, and placed an arm firmly around her middle.

The resonant purr was like warm sand for her to sink into. It felt treacherous and untrustworthy, even as it promised safety and warmth. Like the thing he’d done to her in his nest, the way he’d turned her body against her and made her the true definition of feral.

The male knew how to control in ways which Sergeant Uriel had only tested the waters and Corporal Esin had yet to learn.

Pressing closer to that noise, Morgaine muttered, “I don’t know what to do.”

The words had been too soft for the translator to hear, but the Alpha responded as if in perfect understanding, his Beta companion announcing, “He says you shall rest now.”

The translator dismissed, Morgaine was taken back into the sleeping chamber. Only this time, she was not shoved into the bedding, but urged to lie down on her stomach. A short time later his weight came heavy beside her, a cool pass of medicine swabbed over her back and buttocks until her hurts vanished.

He talked again as if explaining all he did, bandaged her hand, stroked her hair. Morgaine passed into dreams anchored by the sound of a stranger’s purr-rich voice, warmed by the heat of his body.

 

***

 

Dark hair slipping over her bare skin like a brush of feathers, Simin took his time scent-marking his mate as she slumbered. The graze of his jaw over her alluring curves set bumps to smooth flesh and a soft smile to his kor’yr’s mouth.

Males knew to purr, and yes, he had for other women in the past, but never as loud or as strong as he did for this one. She inspired an impressive, and it would seem necessary, amount of noise to echo from his ribs to sing her into a state of calm.

So much more docile in sleep, he adored every last inch of her.

She did not tense as he tasted her body, she did not smell of fear.

No, she smelled like sunshine.

He’d recognized her scent at once on the enemy ship, slipping into a heated rage when he saw she was imprisoned. He’d saved her from the weakling Nierra. Brought her to a nest where he would cherish and adore her. Where he would breed her. Where their younglings would be born.

Hours were spent exploring, soothing, and healing his overwrought conquest.

Carefully drawing one nipple into his mouth, he groaned at how she wriggled in her dreams. Her taste was pure decadence, and he could not find a favorite between them when he lapped at its mate. Licking between her toes had inspired the girl to arch her back in sleep, even her thighs had softly parted, giving him a view of that pretty, slick-smeared cunt.

Her resistance to his tasting her hours ago had been cute. The thing had no idea what he’d been about, surprised all the more when she’d liked it.

Whatever the Nierra did with their females, it sounded as bland as their battle technique—pomp backed by so little substance. The girl didn’t know it yet, but life for her would be much better as his kor’yr no matter her hesitations or fear.

No matter if she found him ugly.

At least he knew how to fuck.

Speaking of fucking, he wanted to do so now—to slip inside her while she slept and wake her with a full belly of cock. She would like it, just as she’d liked his tongue on her clit. There was no question in Simin’s mind.

Balls aching, he put a grip on the base of his shaft, stroking up hard enough to blend pain into pleasure. He could come just looking at her. Tempted to release over the sleeping Omega, to leave something sweet on her lips, Simin groaned.

Upon hearing his frustration, her left leg shifted in sleep, pussy opening to him in unspoken offering.

It was easy to balance over her body, to set his swollen crown against her eager slit.

A virgin they’d claimed, one about to get her first cock. She’d yelped under his tongue, screamed when she’d come. What would she do when she felt her first knot? He’d bet five ships and a planet of farmland she’d squeal.

Even in sleep, her body was responding to his low-pitched growls, the aroma of slick growing stronger by the minute. A simple tilt of his hips and his fat cockhead would pop inside that tight passage. One surge forward and he’d have her full to the brim.

His body moved with the thought, sloshing its way through her scented offering.

The pretty one’s eyes flew open just as he breached, stretched, and claimed that tight hole.

So wet, so hot, smelling so fucking good, there was no question of how hard to rut.

One harsh, earsplitting howl, lips pulled back from his teeth, he thrust onward until he claimed all for himself.

The surprise on her face was as beautiful as the pulse of her cunt around his throbbing invasion.

He surged, shoved in deep, and felt perfection. “Kor’yr, I want to hear you scream again.”

And she did. Only it wasn’t a true scream as there was no noise when she threw back her head on a silent wail. The reek of her fear came back, just in time to excite the Alpha who would show her fear could flavor pleasure just as pain could heighten the thrill.