Chapter 19

 

Powerless to stop her, Simin could do nothing but watch Morgaine rush out of sight. To say that their first meeting in this place had not gone as he’d hoped was a laughable understatement. He’d frightened her off even though he’d bared himself to ridicule by announcing a public declaration of his adoration.

Many prized Omari Omega mates went an entire lifetime without hearing so much as an I love you from their Alphas. Affection was demonstrated with action, with the quality of offerings and attention.

Devotion was demonstrated with attentive and vigorous fucking.

Never words.

Rumor would spread that he had bluntly declared his heart and she had denied his offering. Many of his men would snicker. Some might outright challenge him for weakness.

Simin did not care. He cared that he had frightened her.

He cared that she was distrusting of men, that the enemy had cheapened the power of that monumental word. And that wherever she’d gone to hide, that she was surely crying.

Because of him.

Riddled with frustration, with the undeniable effects of the rut—with a throbbing cock that would not lie down no matter how he abused it—he turned on the translator, vicious, angry, and… disappointed.

Had the short-haired Omega been wiser, she too would have retreated beyond the dividing line. Instead she straddled it. Easy prey.

Looking to her prince and not the retreating Omega, Etaine offered an appropriate bow. “My Heidron.”

Biting back the roar already trying to rip from his chest, he grabbed her arm, and hauled her away from that blasted line. “Where are the gifts I sent her? Why is it that you provided her clothing?”

“Omega Superior ordered the clothing you sent be stacked neatly away. It will be offered in due time, but right now? She needs familiarity. Morgaine craves a purpose and to show others her worth.” Trapped arm hitched so high her shoulder brushed her ear, bruising in her prince’s crushing grip, Etaine kept her face composed.

But it was the scent wafting from her collar that failed to support her collected demeanor; the Omega was nervous, and for good reason. Before her was a furious Alpha. A Heidron, no less. Capable and angry enough to end her in every way, and she was the one responsible for delivering news that would displease.

“The Nierra took much from her. You won’t replace abused pride with fine fabrics and wealth she does not comprehend.” Breath hitching as if the pain had reached a threshold she could no longer pretend to ignore, she hissed, “There was more progress here than you recognize.”

Lowering his face so Etaine might see his snarling mouth and feel his breath on her face, Simin grumbled, “Doubtful.”

Under his grip the woman’s arm twitched, her brow furrowing as she tried to maintain composure. “Her hair was uncovered, Heidron. In Morgaine’s settlement, women only leave their hair uncovered in the presence of family, intimate friends, and to impress mates.”

Golden hair had spilled around the shoulders of his pretty kor’yr. There had even been a few small braids worked into all those waves. And she had preened when he’d complimented the dress…

That small bit of knowledge doused Simin’s ire. He released the female.

To Etaine’s credit, she didn’t rub her arm or scamper back. Like the soldier her robes declared she was, she stood her ground and offered more. “She cannot abide raw meat.”

The finest meat was always served raw. To cook it would destroy the delicate balance of flavors. “Explain.”

“Their livestock carried parasites, and Morgaine’s people were never given the technology to sterilize food or water beyond cooking or boiling. That is why your offerings were replaced with plain dishes common to her people. Simple cheese, boiled oats. The look of relief on her face to be served something other than rich dishes spoke to the Omega Superior’s judgment.”

Slave food.

They were feeding a princess, a woman who would outrank all of them by a ridiculous degree, slave food. And they were in the right. He might not like it, but Simin understood the wisdom here. “And you say this pleased her?”

“As did making the dress. She worked on it all night so she might wear it today.” Etaine was obviously impressed under that stoic expression. “I wish half my team was as focused as your kor’yr.”

That Etaine had called Morgaine his kor’yr earned her a minor pardon in his eyes. Pride thrumming from her slipped phrasing, Simin crossed his arms over his chest. “And what other wisdom has your Omega Superior deigned apply to my female?” More content which each passing moment, he teased, “Are you having her sweep the floors?”

“She is uncomfortable with the concept of slaves and already declared she would clean her cubicle. But do not worry, the Omega Superior will not allow her unconventionality to extend beyond her private room. She will be taught Omari ways.”

Simin had researched this woman, her military file, her family, who she preferred to take for lovers. “Nierra Psychological Operations translation team lead. You work under Senior Alpha Bishop Amsqin. Do you enjoy that assignment?”

Etaine hesitated, features pinched as if she anticipated a threat to her position. “Yes. PSYOP is very fulfilling. Amsqin’s team influences enemies’ choices, plants ideas in adversaries’ heads, alters perceptions and persuades outcomes. I believe our work was the cornerstone of our latest Nierra overthrow. They surrendered with practically no military engagement. And if you’re asking if I am the only Omega onboard who speaks Morgaine’s language, the answer is yes. All other translators are Beta males.”

“Sounds as if I have an expert on hand to help my mate recover; to lead her transition to this new position.”

A tick came to her jaw, the tick of an Omega who he knew was tempted to point out that Morgaine was not his mate yet. Not until estrous. Not until claiming marks had been made, and certainly not if she never left these rooms. Or maybe that tick was because Etaine understood exactly what he was not so subtly hinting at. A PSYOP operative knew the fundamentals of encouraging the enemy to do as she wished, to winning them over, to mentally repositioning them, as it were. He outright expected her to employ those skills and manipulate the girl. “Sir.”

“I expect you to tell me exactly what my kor’yr requires. I will provide it, not the old woman. And I expect you to correct my mistakes in our communication.”

“You want my advice on how to woo your female?” Such a thing was unheard of; embarrassing for both parties.

Humiliation was nothing to a lifetime without his mate. “Yes.”

“I’ll”—gnawing her lip as she considered, Etaine took steps toward the safety of the golden line—“send suggestions when I update today’s report.”

There would be only one acceptable outcome to this arrangement. Though patient and eager to see her happy, Simin was waging a war. War against an ugly, painful history. War against the women who did not trust him enough to release his mate to him. War against his own expectations. “She’ll find her way back to her mate, and should she get lost, you will gently nudge her back onto the path.”

Etaine didn’t look so sure. Out of his reach, once again in the sanctified space where Simin might not touch her, the Omega translator said what Simin feared the most. “She is very young, sir. Even with constant suggestion, Morgaine might not be ready to mate.”

“Then I will wait, and meet with her in this blasted hall for one blessed hour of each day until she is.”