"You have to let me go see him. I need to see his condition and assess it for myself," she pleaded, a few days later.

He was in his chair – which she'd begun to think of in her mind as his throne – brooding, fingers templed together as she paced around him. "They said he's doing better."

"They're saying it to save their own asses – none of them wants to be the one to tell you he's dead! I don't trust them as far as I could throw you!"

"I thought this man was important to you – you were the one who threatened their lives if he died. Don't you want to see for yourself whether or not he's recovering?"

No response. Nothing.

Never in her life, had she been this close to punching someone. She wasn't a physically violent type of person – that was more his territory. She used her words. But in his case, she was willing to learn to be!

So instead, to get out her frustrations, she began to kick out at things – the door, the table – the leg of his chair.

Only she did it one too many times and actually hit him instead, although distinguishing between the two wasn't that easy.

That put the fear of God into her – at least until she realized that he wasn't going to react to that, either.

And, being the idiot that she was, she drew her leg back to do it again, aiming more deliberately this time.

But before she could get any further, he grabbed her wrist, giving one short, sharp yank.

She was already so off balance that she couldn't keep herself from toppling right over his lap, to be trapped there within seconds of landing. His hand made quick work of scourging her backside, leaving livid imprints of his hand everywhere he could reach until he released her just as suddenly, lifting her off him and back onto her feet, then withdrawing into himself again.

Emmy huffed angrily through the tears he had wrought and began pacing again while her bottom stung horribly with every step. She didn't want to lie on the bed – besides the fact that it would hurt like the dickens, he'd take that as an invitation – not that he'd ever felt he needed one, but she knew that as soon as she lay down, he would be on her.

She was still pacing when the sun went down, if a bit less energetically, when suddenly, he grabbed her wrist again, and she was sure she was going to find herself beneath him in seconds.

But she was wrong.

Instead, she found herself bundled up again, and she knew she was on her way to see her patient.

And, to her surprise, the doctors hadn't been lying to him – he was well on the road to recovery. Far from at full strength, but he was doing much better than he had been.

He was even awake, growing more so as she entered the room.

"I had heard rumors to the effect that you had found one for yourself, but now I see they're true." Emmy smiled at him in a friendly manner as she checked his wounds, the IV site and drip rate and gave him a general going over while Vaudt surprised her by maintaining a growling low in his throat, although she supposed that a healthy dose of jealousy was a part of every Alpha.

And it worked to her advantage, because all he was doing was staring at her patient – he wasn't paying attention to her, and she was able to slip several packets of pills into the pocket of her scrubs.

"Are you not going to introduce me to your mate?" the man asked.

"This is Racide," Vaudt informed her flatly.

For the first time in a very long time, someone extended a hand to her, and she shook it, only to have the seething mountain behind her forcibly remove her hand from his. "And your name is, pretty lady?"

The angry rumbling grew much louder, much more threatening.

"Emily. Most people call me – well, used to call me – Emmy."

"Emmy it is then. Besides being an elusive Omega, I understand I have you – a woman – to thank for saving my life. Thank you." He tried to bow a bit, but winced at the effort.

Obviously, he was not an Alpha.

Emily blushed. "You're welcome. I was glad to be of help." She asked him some routine questions about how he was feeling and pronounced him on the mend.

This, of course, prompted Vaudt to announce autocratically, as his long fingers wrapped around her upper arm, "You've seen him. He's no longer dying or in need of your care. It's time to go home."

Racide chuckled. "My brother has always been the jealous type. Thank you again for your efforts on my behalf, Emmy. I owe you one. If there's ever anything I can do to help you in any way, you have but to call."

She found herself violently swung away from him while Vaudt seemed to increase in size by about three fold as he bore down on the smaller man. "She needs nothing from you, brother." He growled the words from a spot that was so deep in his throat, they were barely intelligible, and he fairly spat the last word before literally dragging her out of the room, even forgetting to put the cloak over her until they were in the hall.

He hadn't been like this, perhaps ever, in her memory – aggressive, domineering, yes, but a full-blown jealous rage? No.

As she did her best to make sure that she secured the pills and they wouldn't easily fall out of their hiding place, Emmy wondered baldly if he'd wait until they got back to his room before he took her once again, staking his claim, making sure she knew exactly to whom she belonged.

He made it, but barely.

There was no comfortable mattress beneath her back as he labored over her until very late that night, or, more accurately, early the next morning, and she had the bruises on her back from the floor to prove it, despite how much pleasure he'd subjected her to, as always.

Which, she was surprised to find him absolutely horrified about, which worked in her favor.

They were showering late that next morning, and she turned and held her hair up so that he could do her back as he always did, and yet he just stood there, staring at her, to the point where she began to feel both uncomfortable and cold.

Finally, he handed her the bar of soap and said, "Do your own back."

When she stepped out of the shower, he was gone, and she didn't see him again for almost two and a half days, which was the longest they had been apart.

At times, she wondered if he was ever coming back, trying to stop herself – with only moderate success – from wondering what it was that she had done to drive him away.

He arrived back early the next evening, and she found herself bundled up again for another trip, which she naturally assumed was going to be to see his brother again. She hoped he hadn't taken a turn for the worse.

But instead, when she looked around as little as she was able, she realized that this was a different place entirely, and, as soon as she stepped into it, an achingly familiar scent filled her nostrils.

He maneuvered her in front of him, facing away from him, and brought the garment over her head in one sweeping motion to reveal a huge room full of books.

A library. It even looked as if it had actually been a library at one point, and she could barely contain her elation, taking a few steps away from him, then looking back at him tentatively.

"Go – explore. I wanted to do something for you for saving my brother – as much as I hate the little bastard." He carefully didn't add that she was here, too, because he had been so angry at the sight of the bruises his lust had caused to mar the flesh on her back. "I'll find you in a while."

She completely lost track of time, practically skipping down the tall aisles, running her hands over the bindings and occasionally selecting something to skim through, only to put it back and head in an entirely different direction. It was pretty much a full-blown library, complete with a reference section, although she could tell that it wasn't well used – most of the volumes were old and dusty and looked like they hadn't been cracked open in centuries – literally.

When he found her, she was in the back corner of the building, with piles of books surrounding her, having formed her own little cave, already halfway through one of her most favorite books from her childhood, Black Beauty, which her mother used to read to her, until she could read it back to her mother herself.

He crouched in front of her, and she gifted him with a shining, sparkling smile such as he had never seen on her face before. "Come with me," he invited, unable to stop himself from wearing a small smile in response to hers, his hand out to her, palm up to help her from the floor.

She looked so crestfallen that his chest began to hurt. "Do we h-have to?" she asked plaintively. "Could we – might we – may I take some of the books with me?"

"Let's think about that later," he answered, being deliberately vague. "Right now, I have someone I want you to meet." He produced a set of scrubs and helped her in them.

Emmy was surprised – she had assumed they were alone here.

And she was surprised again when he brought her to the desk, which seemed abandoned, until an older woman came out from behind the stacks, saying warmly, "And you must be Emmy. I am Hinda."

Seconds later, she found herself wrapped in the first genuine, loving hug she'd experienced since she'd arrived, her arms automatically wrapping around the small but sturdy body of the woman who was hugging her.

Eventually, they stepped a bit away from each other, although Emily found her hands still held in hers. "Thank you for saving Racide."

Wondering what her relationship was to the young man, Emily blushed. "You're welcome."

Then the older woman leaned a bit towards her and whispered – not all that softly, "And thank you for saving my other son, too, although that's more from himself than from an enemy." She motioned with her head towards where Vaudt was leaning against the desk, looking more relaxed than Emmy thought she had ever seen him.

"Mother."

"I'm only saying the truth, Vaudt dear."

It was so strange to hear someone call her stalwart, enormous warlord – the stalwart, enormous warlord; she corrected immediately – dear.

So she was his mother. She could see traces of a resemblance, but not much. He must favor his father.

"She has not changed me."

"She has changed you and for the better. Otherwise, why would you be here?"

Emmy had no idea what they were talking about, but she had a feeling she was going to be glad to know his mother, especially if she was the one in charge of all of these luscious books.

"Yes, I am," she admitted, in answer to the unspoken question. "But it's a dying profession, because few people know how to read any more –" She gave the girl a sidelong glance. "But I understand that you can."

"Oh, yes, I can!" Emily admitted gleefully. "And I'm so happy to find that someone has preserved them, even if they're not getting much use at the moment."

"Well, please feel free to borrow any of them you'd like to take with you."

"Mother. There is not a cart big enough for us to do that. We might as well move right into the library with you."

"Yes!" Emmy clapped in excitement.

His buzz killing, no nonsense, "No," which was enunciated from beneath a comically darkly drawn brow, dashed her rising hopes immediately.

She was disappointed, if resigned to her fate, until Hinda suggested, "Why don't you make a pile of books you want to read, and I'll keep them here. You take a few today, then, when you're done, send them back to me through Vaudt, and I'll send you the next few. Would that work?"

Emily's happy shriek echoed in the cavernous room as she headed off towards the stacks of books she'd already compiled.

But she didn't make it very far before she was stopped by a large but relatively gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'll get them. I don't want you lifting anything that heavy."

Embarrassed by what his care for her implied, Emmy hung back with Hinda.

"He thinks you might be with child?" she sensed accurately.

Her response was wry in the extreme, "If I'm not, it won't be for lack of him trying."

Hinda smiled softly. "You are bonded, then?"

Emily tensed, not really knowing what to say. She knew the correct answer was "yes," but that hardly portrayed the situation with any amount of accuracy.

The older woman put her hand on Emily's arm. "Vaudt has told me the story you told him of how you came to be here, and I can understand how this situation might not have been exactly what you'd hoped for." Her voice was quiet as she confessed, "I was an Omega, too, you see, and I had little more choice than you did about my bonding, although I had grown up to expect that was my fate."

"It wasn't – and isn't – at all what I want," she confessed quietly.

Hinda took a deep breath. "I know that my son can be hard to deal with. He's very much like his father, whereas his little brother – who is his greatest rival – is more like me."

"Wait a minute," Emmy interrupted. "How can you be a librarian when your son doesn't know how to read?"

"Vaudt was the eldest male child. My husband was a great warlord in his own right, and he took Vaudt from me when he was three years old to raise him to be just like himself. So he was taught to hunt, raid, fight, ride, and not much else. It's given him a lot of success – he's been able to, not only hold the lands his father acquired, but to expand them, too. He has never lost in a conflict with another county. But at a steep price." She sighed. "I had despaired of him ever finding someone he wanted to bond with, especially considering the scarcity of Omegas." She hugged Emmy again. "I am so glad he has found you. And I was not kidding when I said that you have changed him – for the good. He is more...settled and much less volatile."

Emily was thinking that she wouldn't want to know what he was like before if this was less volatile.

"It suits him to have someone like you to take care of. It humanizes him a bit."

"Have you never...tried to teach him to read?"

The other woman snorted. "As if he would sit still long enough for me to do that! But you should try. It could only make him even better to be able to read books on governing and law and justice." Then she said something that surprised Emmy. "How much I envy what your life must've been like before you ended up here. What a different world it was at one time."

"It had its problems," Emmy admitted. "Obviously, or this – whatever caused this – would never have happened."

"You're right. But the freedoms, the ease of life in general...medicine. Careers for women other than motherhood..."

"I think that's all of them," Vaudt proclaimed, hefting the last stack onto a pile he'd created behind the desk. Then he looked at Emmy. "Pick three, and we'll take them back with us."

She hated to be ungracious or impolite, but she spent the rest of the time they were there rifling through them all, trying to decide which ones she wanted to take.

Finally, Vaudt practically dragged her out of there, proclaiming that she had to take the books that were in her hands at that exact moment.

She got another one of those marvelous hugs from Hinda before she left, and she watched her do the same to her enormous son, who seemed to be barely able to tolerate such blatant affection from his mother, not encouraging or really returning it much, except for a few extremely awkward pats on her back.

Huh. He did better in that area with her than with his Mom.

Although she had a little more stimulation in her life now than she had at first with him, it hadn't worked one bit to dim the lust she felt for him every time he was within her proximity. And when he left, it was just as bad as it had always been, the craving setting in and robbing her of the ability to enjoy the new treasures she had gotten from Hinda.

She had hoped that the birth control pills she had found and immediately begun taking might have helped in that area, but they hadn't, at least not so far. Honestly, her greatest hope was that they did what they were supposed to do, although she was a bit concerned that Vaudt's sperm might take after him and be some sort of super sperm that would somehow impregnate her regardless of her attempts at preventing it.

Or that she was already pregnant, although she hadn't really seen any signs of that.

He seemed to be gone more often of late, and she understood from Anja that the battle in which he and his brother had both been injured had been a revival of an old feud with a nomadic hoard of vandals that liked to call themselves the Skorge. The leader was the infamous Garron he'd been interrogating her about – and who was active in the area at the moment, which was what he was spending his time away from her doing.

At one point, he was gone for so long that she had actually become worried, and when he finally came through the door, covered in dirt and blood, she actually greeted him with open arms, stepping up on tiptoes before him to hug him as best she could reach.

If she hadn't been so concerned about him, she might have laughed at the startled look on his face at her actions. "Are you feeling well?" he asked, lifting her up gently so that they were eye to eye. Being held like that, she could feel that he was ready for her, as she was more than ready for him.

"I –" She bit her lip and then whispered the truth, as if it was shameful, "I've missed you."

He began to walk with her towards the bed.

"Not just for that," she whimpered, although she couldn't manage not to rub herself lewdly against him, while she was protesting, either. "I missed talking to you and hearing about what's going on. When you're not here…" she complained breathily as he reached down and moved the bedcovers out of the way in order to lay her on the mattress in front of him. "I don't get out much."

"I know," he said smugly, dragging his disreputable, rough fingers over the delicate tips of her nipples possessively. "I don't want you getting out if I can't be there to ensure your safety."

Before she knew it, he had an ankle in each hand, spreading her wide for him as he teased her slit with his cock. "I will never grow bored with this sight – this right here. You spread before me, your body making you welcome for me. I swear I could smell your sweet essence from the moment we got in the gates."

Then he made that now familiar, practiced move that began to lodge him inside of her, but stopped short suddenly, although she could tell how hard he was finding it to do so, he did it, actually sliding himself out of her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hating how desperate and needy she sounded, having to grasp handfuls of the sheet beneath her in order to keep herself from reaching up to pull him back down and into her.

"You haven't bled in a while. You are probably pregnant, and I'm not sure if I should be doing this to you. I will do nothing that might endanger the health of our child."

If their situation had been different – if she'd met him in her time, somehow, or been better adapted to this one, perhaps – she might have found that touching.

But she just couldn't let herself feel that about him, no matter how hard it was sometimes.

Emmy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

He ignored her question. "I think I should wait until I can talk to the doctor about whether or not that's a good idea."

Emily wanted to scream at that pronouncement, but she knew better than to waste her energy trying to change his mind once he made it up.

With a loud groan that was combination of thwarted desire and anger at him for spying on her, as he had so obviously been doing – via Anja, she would bet – she rolled away from him and he consciously stepped away from her. Standing there looking down at her, fists clenching and unclenching as he fought against his own instincts, and finally, he simply turned and walked out the door, leaving her sobbing behind him to put his fist through the nearest wall in frustration about three feet from their door.