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)
Unmoved, unflinching, Jules Havel made his position clear. “I believe it appropriate that you refer to me as Commodore.”
20
The room was overly crowded, which clearly agitated his Omega. Hovering near, so his shape might blot out the members of parliament who had escorted them to the Red Room, so Brenya might stop glaring at Ancil, Jacques pressed a kiss to her hair.
“Mon chou, I want you to remember what we shared tonight.” Feverish lips at her ear, Jacques Bernard whispered so no other traitorous present member of parliament might hear. “I can feel you shaking. Please, my love, don’t be afraid. Hush now.”
His mate didn’t answer, worrying her lip as her doe eyes jumped from one part of his dead brother’s apartments to another.
Jacques hated this room. Everything was in shades of red. Ironically fitting, considering the amount of blood that had spilled from the windbag when Jacques had torn him apart for the title of Commodore.
With his last brother dead, Jacques had chosen new apartments, breaking with tradition by rejecting the room of all those who had come before him. His right as Commodore. A new, glorious era for Bernard Dome.
Under his rule, all had thrived.
Fitting that a foreign rebel who had the audacity to assume a title meant power would want to sleep in the quarters of a bygone era.
It meant nothing!
Bernard Dome knew who owned them. They knew who to thank for what they had, the luxuries they had indulged in, the pussy, the anus, the throat.
All orders came from Jacques Bernard—even the order for this illusory transfer in power.
And he had been good to his people. Generous to Parliament.
He knew how every last member liked to fuck, who they wanted in their beds, traded their daughters to their sons in advantageous matches that conserved power. He’d inundated them with the prettiest Beta servants and made sure disease was unable to spread at any of the elite brothels.
Even their wives had been serviced with treats, parties, gifts. Many of them, he had fucked personally when they had batted their eyelashes his way.
They would remember that when this new Beta tried to tempt them with platitudes they didn’t want.
All Central wanted was Omegas.
Omegas Jacques had already begun acquiring and having trained. Pure Bernard stock that would be conditioned for those he had handpicked to receive.
Clean slates like Brenya, these females could be taught to please in ways the uppity foreign Omegas turned their nose up at.
When Ancil had groused that Lucia refused anal sex, Jacques had laughed. And then he had shown his life-long friend and rival a projection of how he had taken Brenya’s ass in the bath only hours after sealing the pair-bond.
That was how an Alpha commanded his mate.
Damn the red room, damn the Beta Ambassador, damn Chancellor Shepherd. Damn them all!
His mon chou would be back in his bed and out of that hideous room. She would be ensconced and safe as he nurtured her into her purpose.
Back in his arms, back with her lips stretched around his dick. Cock hard with the need to scent her—hating that she had bathed, his leavings washed away—he dripped against his trousers. The air filled with his spice, with an enticement only an Alpha could provide to an Omega.
What did this Beta charlatan think he could possibly do with an Omega pussy? It was hysterically ridiculous. The man could not even knot. How was she to know pleasure?
Petting his darling Brenya, trying his best to soothe, Jacques murmured, “Just… relax and think of me. It will be over quickly. And then he is to assure you are properly tended by your Alpha, the marriage contract was exceedingly clear. This is only a minor, and short-lived, inconvenience.”
Struggling to contain his indignation, preparing to leave his mate in the hands of a Beta, Jacques straightened so she might see all of him.
How he strained at his pants for her. How he was still her Alpha. How she was still his darling.
Aching with the need to drive into her, he stroked his shaft through the fabric. From base to tip, flooding out globs of cream that already had her pupils dilating.
“You were ordered to leave her untainted, Jacques. I’d rather not suffer through watching another of my brothers die tonight.”
Curling his lip at the low-level snot who dared call him anything other than Commodore, Jacques snarled, “You and I will have words over this insolence later.”
The man’s name was added to the growing tally of parliament members Jacques would personally murder that night. He’d kill their families too, their children… wipe their lineage from the face of the planet!
How dare these Alphas turn on him before he might explain that the satellites could all be shut down. Bernard Dome could retreat into itself for a safe eternity. Greth would be blind. Jules Havel would be restricted and tortured until there was an accounting of every potential location for whatever device had been used to release Red Consumption.