Chapter 18

 

“This will be your cubicle.” The woman with hair shorn as short as the men wore theirs back in her settlement, Etaine, led her forward. Eyes shaded the verdant green of new grass were framed by an expression of shame, as if the woman thought the huge room disgraceful. “My apologies that it is not grander. Omegas who live within these halls choose an austere life.”

Twice as large as Morgaine’s cottage, this cubicle was full of many wondrous things. Walls that glowed just like the first ship she’d been forced to live in. But these walls were not reflective, only warm and slightly buzzing under her hand. And there was even a separate area for sanitary purposes similar in style to the one in the Alpha’s quarters, only smaller and much more comfortable.

Because it was private.

For sleeping, she was assigned a cot—narrow, covered in fabric—and not an open pit in the center of the room.

The Omegas offered all this after Morgaine had clawed many of them with her nails, kicked several when they’d held her down, and even bitten one until she’d broken skin.

It was too good to be true. Fiddling with her battle-tangled locks, Morgaine asked again, “And you’re going to let me stay? He can’t come in here?”

“You are welcome here.” Ever patient, Etaine answered the question for the tenth time. “And no, our Heidron cannot enter. No males are allowed to pass the Omegas’ sacred golden line.”

“It’s just a mark on the ground. What’s to stop them?”

Her guide didn’t blink. “Those who have dared, we’ve killed. It is against every law to intrude upon Omegas gathered in their consecrated space.”

A snort, half amused and half disbelieving, stuck in her nose. The women in this place were small like her. They were no match for an Alpha.

An elegant brow arched over what were probably the prettiest eyes Morgaine had even seen, Etaine challenging, “You don’t believe me?”

“I have seen Alphas do terrible things.” Cold despite the room’s gentle warmth, Morgaine shivered. “When I fought back, I lost. They made me do whatever they wanted.”

“Our Heidron? Did he force you?”

It was a serious question; one Morgaine was unsure how to answer. Now that it had been explained to her what Heidron stood for, desperate to remain with the Omegas and far away from their prince, she vacillated. “I don’t know.”

And she didn’t. She’d never fought back, but that didn’t mean he had not taken liberties that had he asked, she would have refused.

Etaine offered what Morgaine suspected was a rare smile. “I’m glad you’re with us. Not all Omegas desire Alpha attention. There are many here who understand how you feel.”

Those words, a single shy smile, and Morgaine felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “Like you?”

“I am proud to be Omari. Proud to be Omega. For pleasure, I enjoy the attention of worthy males, but I do not wish for a mate. My career is my calling.”

Many considered it tedious work, but Morgaine had loved weaving. Just as she had enjoyed her garden, the chickens, and goats. “I can sew clothes. Mend for the women here.”

“If you like.”

But what about sunlight on her face or the feel of a brisk breeze? “He’s not going to let me go home, is he?”

“Never. It would be impossible.” Etaine became serious, those green eyes aglow. “Be who and what you will in these rooms. Rest. Cry, if you need to. Learn. But should you cross that golden line, he will not give you up. Heidron Simin Gralloch values you highly, and has chosen you for his mate.”

Morgaine didn’t want him. “But I can stay here?”

“Forever, if that’s how you desire to spend your life.”

It was a start. Smiling, Morgaine thanked the women, unsure if she was to hug her or offer a hand.

“Get some rest. Food and supplies will be sent. I’ll come for you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes, the Heidron is to be allowed one hour of your presence each day. I will translate.”

Panic, stomach-cramping terror. Of course this was too good to be true. “But I thought…”

“He brought you to us because he knew you suffered. He will wish to see that you’re doing well… and Heidron Simin desires to court you.”

 

***

 

The door to Omega Sector was due to be unbarred any moment now, and on the other side, his female would be waiting. A single night without her in their nest had set his teeth on edge.

There were no warm curves to hold close. No soft sighs as he pleasured her. There was nothing but her lingering scent to remind him that he’d ever even had her.

When slaves were summoned to scrub his quarters, he forbid them from disturbing the nest. Morgaine’s presence must not be allowed to fade from the cushions. Burrowing in the bedding, breathing deeply of her scent was the only thing keeping him sane.

He had already considered five different methods of tearing down the Omega Sector door, ready to barge in and demand they return her to him.

He could cut off their air, refuse them supplies until they starved. Without crossing their fucking line, he could have her back.

But she would hate him even more than she already must.

The rut was working on his mind so powerfully that he thought he could even hear her soft mutterings if he closed his eyes hard enough and held a slick-stained pillow to his nose and breathed in until his lungs burned. Cock hard as an iron bar, he’d taken himself in hand. No matter how he milked his knot, there had been no relief. His balls ached, the hand working his shaft drawing out every last drop of come until he’d begun to climax dry.

It was agony.

Agony it would seem he deserved.

The Omega Etaine had been ordered to compile an expedited report on all Morgaine had shared. What Simin found projected before him pushed him past rage and into an emotion he could not name.

Flayed, stripped down to cracked bone and insignificant soul.

He had the names of Alphas, he had their rank, knew what ship they belonged to. In time he would have their lives. But first, he needed to help his kor’yr recover.

The best, most coveted foods were sent to Omega Sector to tempt her to eat. Fine clothes, jewels, anything a female might desire. Rare sweets.

She needed to see that he could provide anything she might desire, to learn that as a mate she would want for nothing.

His father once presented his wife the severed hands of an enemy tribe who had harmed her cousin. Simin would give Morgaine severed heads, the male’s flaccid cocks jammed into their mouths, all atop a tray of pure gold.

He’d buy her the cleverest slaves to amuse her.

If she wanted a planet, he’d give her three.

That damn door between him and his mate finally began to open.

Morgaine already waited for him, but hovered out of reach past the forbidden demarcation of Omega space. It didn’t matter. At least he could see her, smell her… maybe even touch her if she took just one more step forward.

Smiling, utter relief calming the bubbling agitation that had been burning the back of his throat, Simin entered. Their eyes met, he purred, but she did not return his joy.

Instead, she took a step backward and darted a nervous glance to the Omega with cropped hair waiting nearby.

His nervous bride spoke, her flittering language made solid by the translator. “I have been told that you are not allowed to cross this line.”

The damned golden tile track between them held Morgaine’s attention. Blue eyes so expressive in the throes of passion, refused to rise up and meet her mate’s after their single fleeting shared glance.

Walking forward into a room sour with female fear, Simin rubbed at his chest where her fear stung him most. He wanted so badly to reach out and take her hand, but for his every step forward, she took another step back. “I’m not.”

Morgaine was not adorned in any of the fine robes he sent to her, but wearing a style of dress Simin had never seen. It was plain, comprised of white fabric, and modest. “Did you make this garment?”

“Yes, Etaine”—Morgaine glanced to the translator facilitating speech between them, smiling—“offered me some supplies.”

“It’s very pretty.” But not what he had given her. Why was she not wearing what he had given her?

Hinting at a blush, Morgaine smoothed her skirt. “My mother taught me to sew, to weave, and to dye fabric. It was not considered a useful skill to the Alphas. None of my skills were. But here I’ve already collected a basket of items that require mending.”

Cutting a sharp look toward the translator—allowing the heavy, penetrating nature of that glare to speak for him—Simin flat out threatened her. Mending was the labor of slaves, not queens. But… Morgaine spoke of her work with pride.

Furthermore, it was nice to hear about her. Daring to step forward to toe the dividing line, he coaxed, “Tell me of your talents.”

Morgaine seemed embarrassed, cheeks turning pink as her eyes went back to the floor. “In my settlement, I was known for the quality of dyes I could produce… for fabric.”

“And are you going to dye this dress? My household’s colors are green.” He was too eager, desperate to gain a glance. “I can find what you need… if you like. You would look beautiful in green.”

She did not answer his offer. Speaking in a defensive tone even he could pick up without knowing her language, she carried on, “I raised fine goats and made cheese. Built houses, kept a garden. I was educated by farmers.”

“Did you have many friends?”

She blinked and finally raised her head. “Aren’t you going to mock me? I said farmers. I didn’t even know how to work the door panel on this ship until Etaine showed me.”

“You are industrious and, from the amount of skill I can already see worked into your gown, talented. Ascertaining the workings of this ship will come quickly to a mind keen to learn. The universe would do well to remember the endless labor of those who live simply.”

She didn’t know what to make of his answer, stared at him as if measuring his words and looking for the jibe.

“Tell me of your friends.” Simin gave her a smile, the kind he used to win over his mother and steal treats as a child. “Tell me about your homeland. I want to know about my kor’yr.”

A ghost of a smile changed Morgaine’s face from pinched to considering. “My friends… well, I used to have many friends. As I got older, it grew difficult.”

And one could easily sort out the reason. “Because you are Omega and the males wanted to be more than your friend?”

“I suppose…” Shaking her head and seemingly lost in thought, Morgaine confessed, “We had nursery rhymes about Omegas. It was not a thing anyone would want to be.”

She was wrong. “To be born Omega is a blessing!”

Simin’s passion behind his outburst did not impress her. She took another step back, lower lip beginning to tremble. “What do you know of it? It is terrible, and now that I’ve seen what happened to Esmerelda I understand why.”

“Who?”

Etaine explained, sparing Morgaine from repeating what she’d confessed she’d been forced to watch. She told him of the lesson, of the bodies, how it had been her first time seeing a naked male. About the blood and fluids and nightmares.

Every last cell in his body urged him to step forward and go to his mate. Instead Simin retreated one step. Breathing heavily, reeking of anger, he put a hand to his eyes. “That was not Esmerelda’s fault. How could she know the risks of estrous if she didn’t know what she was? If anything, it was the fault of the Betas for a lack of self-control. But ultimately the blame is on the Alphas who created a situation in which such a thing might happen in the first place.”

Morgaine went still, met his eyes, and had no words.

Simin had words. Many, many words in fact. “The Alphas showing you these things were employing psychological warfare. It’s a common tactic used to twist enemy populations’ thinking into the aggressor’s design. It simplifies invasion.”

Muttering, the golden-haired girl said, “They told me Alphas loved Omegas, that they existed to protect them. That all of it was for my own good.”

The look on her face gutted him. Simin needed to hold her, but could offer only a purr. “They lied to you.”

“I know. Otherwise they would not have threatened to whip my mother if I continued to disobey.” Morgaine nodded, and looked utterly sad. “They never loved me at all.”

Eager, Simin stood tall, reached out a hand in hopes she take it, and proclaimed, “I love you, kor’yr.”

His movement sent her skittering back. “You don’t know me!”

It had not been near an hour, but Morgaine turned around and rushed away from the prince who was contemplating risking death just to embrace her.