Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 290(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Centrist society made no sense. It served no purpose Brenya might grasp. “Was it her fault for loving you as her friend?”
“My sweet Omega, you are as vulnerable and as new as a fresh born calf. Wide eyed, on shaky legs, easy for any predator to devour were it not for the herd. I can assure you that after a year of experience as my mate, you will feel far differently than you do today.”
What a horrible thought. “If that should be the outcome, then I would deserve you.”
A passionate yet soft kiss fell on her lips. He breathed in her scent as he agreed, “Yes, dear Brenya.”
Glittering shoes, the heel low, encased feet hidden by a long skirt. Aching all over, yet every mark hidden, Brenya took a step back, wiping her skirt as if there was beloved engine grease on her hands, as she said, “May I go to Annette now?”
“You’ve underestimated me, Brenya. So many times. I am Commodore, King, because I took power from the brother I murdered. I fed an Omega to Ancil when he looked at you too long. I faced down a true despot and now hold his envoy in prison. Yet you think I cannot see your every transparent scheme. Your mind is brilliant. You were born with a genius I admire beyond words, yet you have been overcome time and again by the Alpha you belong to. So, hear me, my darling mate, when I say to you that I am not blind to your intentions.”
The sorriest part of it all… Brenya had none. Her every response since she’d been rescued had been unthinking and erratic. She was chafe in the wind. Utterly lost yet blown around.
Employing that same gentle tone, that overwhelming purr, Jacques took her chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Annette does not belong to you. You can’t keep her.”
She thought of George and how horribly he had been ripped away.
And it was as if Jacques could read her very thoughts. “If you speak his name, you know what I will do to him.”
Brenya would never speak the name of her friend and savior again. Nor would she underestimate the intelligence of the slavering Alpha who had countered her every move. “Please, I just want to see Annette.”
The sound of grinding teeth was short-lived. “There is no need to look at me that way.”
But that look, whatever it may have been, drew the terrible Alpha to escort her down glittering halls to a door guarded by no less than five Alpha soldiers. The portal parted, which led to a room boasting nothing more than sunlight and a circular table holding a large vase filled with blooms.
At Brenya’s back, the doors closed. She was alone in a scented, pretty passage, the door waiting ahead painted the appealing green of moss.
Though he was no longer standing over her, Jacques’ irritation pounded at her breast. Brenya ignored it, opened that door… to find a room the gentle color of sunlight through a soft cloud. Ivory warmth. Brightly colored, beautiful things.
The intricate rug under her feet had been woven in shades of green that lent the room a sense of life. Of the forests outside the Dome, of the wild things that grew in abandon.
Two Beta observers and an Annette whose smell left Brenya salivating for Beta rations.
Standing from her chair, Annette offered a cloth napkin. “You’re bleeding through your lace.”
Her neck, yes. Brenya could feel the ragged bite mark there oozing. And it was liberating to know she ruined the dress Jacques had spent so long trapping her in.
But there were teacups to consider. Intruding Betas to analyze. There was a sense of unbelievable longing and extravagant relief at seeing Annette unharmed.
And there was the true, hideous honesty of the situation.
So Brenya rushed forward to and embraced the Beta.
7
Annette returned the affection with restrained dignity.
The Beta did not complain at the crushing hold of a desperate Omega, at the comfort Brenya sought and—unpracticed in the sport—tried to return.
She didn’t complain or coo; she didn’t pet or push away. Annette allowed unladylike clinging, gently patting a very troubled young woman’s back as Brenya struggled to find words.
Annette even spoke first. “It’s so good to see you, Brenya.”
Unsure, Brenya puzzled out if that might be true. How could this feeling be good? Was that what good was supposed to be in Central? Was it a frantic mishmash of bangs and pings colliding within the cage of her ribs? Was it the awkward inability to steady her breath as she clung to someone who had been horribly mistreated?
Was good that small spark of relief despite all the wrong?
Was it that little flicker that began to burn brighter despite the ugliness of her day?
Seeing Annette felt… maybe like hope.
A lot like despair, because she might never get to see her again. Because Alpha arms could reach in at any moment and tear them apart.