Chapter 16

 

“You are perfection.” Simin had made a lovely mess of his trembling mate—the lightly bleeding wound atop her shoulder not quite as glorious as the future claiming mark would be, but extremely appealing nonetheless. So delicious; he could not stop tasting it. Lower, her perky tits dripped with his latest ejaculate, come beading atop pink nipples.

What he’d give to have her reach down and gather those droplets, to watch her bring them to her tongue to swallow in delight.

The thought made him spill one last, half-hearted spurt of seed, greasing the flesh between them when Simin pressed even closer. Lost in her scent, working his mass against her gentle form in a blatant, seductive attempt to rub as much of his spend into her skin as possible, he failed to notice.

Until she made a terrible whimper.

His mate was… crying.

Heart falling, squeezing as if caught in a vise, his cock went soft before Simin opened his eyes and found the opposite of what such giving actions should have inspired.

Sad eyes, beautifully blue but bloodshot with terrible emotion, were turned away.

This would not do. Even now the air was growing bitter with Omega fear and salty with spilled tears.

“I have waited an age, set aside many eager, ranked Omegas in search of my kor’yr. For you.” Determined, brusque he spoke words none but her would ever hear. Words he would have killed any male or female for witnessing. Private mutterings between mates, an open display of weakness and exaltation, unheard of from any Heidron. Gathering her hand, he pressed it where his purr resonated strongest—right over his heart. “There is nothing you ever need fear from me.”

The female blinked once, her shoulders slumped, and she appeared… resigned.

Dark circles under her eyes, golden hair lank, bathed in the drying remnants of his sperm, and smelling of the sweet honey that dripped between her legs, she looked worn but resplendent.

Pained to watch her flinch when his hand came to cup her cheek, Simin murmured, “Did the Nierra not take care of you? Did they put poison in your mind?”

She couldn’t answer, was ignorant to his words and their meanings, leaving Simin with no way to encourage her affection outside of action. So he took a step back and waited for her to find the courage to meet his eyes.

At first she continued to stand as she was, shrinking in on herself, unsure, with the shallow breaths of a frightened rabbit. But when she began to realize we waited, a very timid, very tired set of eyes traced their way over his impressive body before landing on an open gaze that waited. For her.

He smirked, reaching out to trill his fingers over the twin crescents his teeth had punctured into her flesh.

And she… she looked utterly confused.

Horrified.

Sick.

“We have had much sex play. You must be hungry.” Trailing his touch down her arm, he found her fingers and threaded them with his. “Come this way. I shall feed you. I will wash you. I will lay you down in our nest, take you gently, and give you strong arms to sleep in until your eyes shine and your smiles are easy.”

He gave her a gentle tug and led her from a room that reeked of their sex, her fear, and his concern, guiding her to his private dining quarters. Once there, after sitting her in his favorite chair and stepping a goodly distance away, Simin saw her visibly relax.

It wasn’t only the starscape glimmering from the view portal that had her attention, it was the fact that her new mate had walked away.

As Heidron of a prime fleet, as a seasoned warrior with many conquests under his belt, Simin was unaccustomed to feeling lacking. Women threw themselves at him, he’d laid with hundreds and took great pride in his proficiency with female pleasure.

His body was large, muscular, pleasing. He didn’t have the finest features, but endurance, patience, even in tactical skills he was wiser than even the eldest of his brothers. Favored by his mother for his humor.

Yet his kor’yr, the Omega his soul resonated for, did not wish to be near him.

She did not recognize him…

Scowling at the meat he folded around seasoned paste, he growled. From the corner of his eye, even with her all the way across the room, his mate jumped. And once again the air went sour with female fear.

This was not right.

She might not understand his words, but intention could be communicated.

Nothing was unsalvageable, especially between and Alpha and Omega so deeply connected. Careful of his tone, but lacking the charisma of a sweeter man, Simin’s deep voice carried over the room. “To be the mate of Heidron is a great honor. Every soldier in my fleet would lay down his life for yours. You have nothing to fear in my presence. I won’t correct you with a cane.”

Watching him, infinitely wary, his Morgaine blinked, rubbed her lips together and nodded as if trying to please him. But once her eyes fell on the food in his hands, she shot from her seat and rushed forward.

Hands coated in the raw juices of fine bolx meat, fingernails smeared with paste, he didn’t stop her. In fact, Simin didn’t know what to make of her frantic expression when she saw that he was preparing them food. Hunger had not draw her to him.

Terror had.

Reaching for meat, she looked at the slices he had already prepared and mimicked the simple preparation so quickly the plate was full, messy, and complete before he knew how to react. She then pushed it closer to him.

Was she offering him the food he had chosen for her?

She was, and blue eyes frantic as if she’d done wrong in sitting while he worked.

“It’s for you. Alphas serve their mates before they serve themselves.”

She pushed the plate again, eyeing the mess of her work as if she knew she could have done better. Cringing as if she expected to be punished.

Careful to choose one she had made, Simin lifted it up and nodded confused approval.

Morgaine smiled, a tight practiced movement that did not reach her eyes. A smile that fell off her lips when he held out the bite for her to eat from his hand. She didn’t so much as sniff it, probably didn’t even taste it, avoiding his fingers to take it into her mouth and swallow without chewing.

And then she mirrored what he’d done, speaking her fluid tongue as if profusely apologizing as she held up a bite of the delicacy for him.

Wrapping her wrist in his much larger hand, he plucked the treat from her fingers and returned it to the plate. Then he escorted her back to the best seat, took it for himself, and patted his knee so she might join him.

Expression blank, she stiffly obeyed, her slick-drenched pussy smearing sweet fluid over his hard thigh. He pulled her close when it grew painfully obvious she was going to try to balance herself like a perched bird instead of fitting herself to him. The arm he hung around her, the light stroking of her skin, didn’t soften her ramrod spine, nor did it earn so much as a hum of approval from the woman.

His purr increased, his body pliant.

Patience was imperative to battle strategy. Before so much as a drop of blood was shed, the enemy was to be studied, their patterns analyzed, their psyche broken down into its basic parts and used against them. Though he’d never had to woo a woman to gain her attention, his course would be no different than planning war.

All wars he waged he won.

Taming his Omega would be no different.

Simin gave her time to find a comfortable position as his purr softened her tension, a gentle stroke caressing her arm. And then he fed her, slowly. Offering only enough that she’d have to bite off manageable pieces, cooing nonsense words of encouragement—vibrating with pleased groans when her tongue caught his fingers. But each time she tried to lift a piece for him, he took it from her and put it back on the plate.

There could be reciprocation in the future once she knew him better and understood his intrinsic craving to care for her. Once she was at peace in his presence and in love with his heart.

There would be love.

And children who would please his mother and even make his dour father crack a smirk when he thought no one was looking.

When she chewed even slower and a bulge bumped from her belly from too much food, he fed himself the scant remainder on the plate. Eyes on the view, content and growing more confident in his approach, he spoke of all their lives would be and confessed that he’d been lonely for her, had made great, secret offerings to the higher power so he might find her… wondering to himself if he was only willing to admit it aloud because she could not understand and think less of his prowess for unmasculine sentimentality.

Every Alpha desired an Omega mate, but to find a kor’yr was something not one in a billion might accomplish. Simin had found his propped up in a glass cage as if the gods themselves had set her aside for him.

The arm around her supple body grew tighter, pressing them into one being.

 

***

 

He had fed her raw meat. Raw.

Morgaine still wanted to cringe just thinking of it. Did these people not know of parasites and bacteria that could rage through a colony and massacre half a settlement? One bad well had poisoned over twenty people when Morgaine had still been a child.

A single wrong sip of water. Dysentery. Burial.

Yet he had partaken in the meal when she was painfully full with smiling lips and sounds of satisfaction. The juxtaposition of this place and their barbaric customs set her head spinning. He looked like a savage, spoke like one, yet possessed the finest rooms she’d ever seen.

That plate was bone china, if not some kind of cut milky crystal. The furnishings were immaculate.

Where was the leather, the bones, the carcasses of his latest kill roasting over an open fire?

How did the male who shattered the glass of her enclosure, who had penetrated her the first time while she still slept, equate with this?

How did he know how to touch her to make her mindlessly spread and howl for more?

When was he going to mutilate her? In what ways?

Would he kill her after? Share her?

What was she going to do?

Dizzy with horrible, circular thoughts, the pounding behind Morgaine’s eyes grew. The male was still talking, his ugly language croaked so deep the one speaking sounded like a cross of a toad and a thunderstorm. And as he talked, he touched.

Light strokes to her brow, across her cheeks, running those calloused fingers between her bared breasts to jostle her ribs until she jumped. No coerced laugh broke past her lips, Morgaine determined to bear the tickling rather than face his ire.

Because her life was in his hands and she was so thrown by the last few days—by the pain that still lingered muscle deep where a cane had lashed her, and the loss of everything she knew—that she had no idea where to turn.

Her cunt, and that was the name it had been reduced to, ached. And even aching, it still wept that horrible fluid.

Part of her even wanted this awkward meal to end so he might take her back to the nest and twist her mind back into that stark white place of feeling. That place where she forgot her name, her inhibitions, where she felt free in the loss of who she was because there was nothing to mourn if she was nothing at all.

Scarred, older than any courting boy she’d received flowers from, older than even grabby Esin. His fingers still sticky with the parts of her body they had delved into and the raw meat they had shared, the crazed male Sergeant Uriel and his commandant had given her to, smiled. It was lopsided but displayed healthy teeth too straight to be natural.

Back home, dentistry was expensive. Morgaine was missing a molar near the back that had gone rotten in her teen years. Tonguing the empty space, a little self-conscious her teeth were a bit crooked, she felt even worse for such shallow concerns. It wasn’t her teeth this man wanted her for.

It was the deceptive slut of a slit between her legs.