Breeder (10 page)

Omra chose that moment to come for the dirty dishes. As she worked, all the men watched her. Expectation spiraled, a sensation as palpable as the portent of a storm. He marshaled his self-control to remain seated and not shove her out of the room.
Monto, will you hurry?
Underneath the table, he drummed his fingertips on his knee. Finally, arms burdened, she departed. He expelled his relief in an inaudible sigh.

Corren pursed his lips. “The guest chambers have been prepared. Perhaps when Commander Tarbek and Commander Marlix and their betas retire for their respite, they would care to avail themselves of Omra for the evening.”

A crimson haze descended to flood Dak’s face, chest, and upper limbs. He wanted to grab Corren by the throat and choke the life out of him.

Though alphas rarely used their home breeders for sexual release, they expected to avail themselves of a host’s breeder, not just for the novelty but for the competitiveness running through their veins. The idea that they could, in a small way, lay claim to another alpha’s property motivated their lust. And it was customary to offer. That Dak hadn’t yet offered her was mildly rude. To fail to do so now would be perceived as a serious insult. Would call into question anew his political motives.

Marlix’s eyes gleamed, backlit by a love for violence. Omra would be returned to him in the morning, body and spirit broken.

Dak unclenched his jaw and feigned calm. “I thank my beta for reminding me of my proper duties. Of course, should you desire her, I shall send Omra to you for the evening.”

“My beta and I thank you for your hospitality and will accept your generous offer. We shall try not to use her to the extent that she will be unable to fulfill her duties to you,” Marlix said, confirming his worst fears.

She is female. She is born and raised for this
. Dak could not jeopardize stability in his province to protect a female for whom he’d developed a measure of affection. No alpha would hesitate to hand over a breeder. He had acquired her partly for that reason. But his stomach threatened to displace his meal at the idea of any of them touching her. And he could not shake the guilt that he was betraying her.

“Commander, will you join us?” Marlix looked at Tarbek.

The other Alpha curled his lip dismissively. “I shall pass.” He looked at Veya. “But perhaps my beta?”

“If my Alphas demurs, so shall I,” Veya said loyally.

Balancing a stack of plates on one arm and a golden tart heaped with berries and cream on the other, Omra appeared. She presented the finish to him, her open, trusting gaze seeking his approval. He avoided her eyes but nodded. He would not be able to choke down so much as a morsel.

That he lived a personal life of strength and forbearance had tempered criticism of his more unpopular decisions. He had zero doubt if he had declined the use of Omra, the two Alphas publicly would label him as an Enclave sympathizer. Unfit for command.

They would be right. Self-loathing roiled. He was a poltroon. A coward. But not for reasons assumed.

As Omra moved to serve the tart to Marlix and Tarbek, Dak slid out his foot. Her toe caught his ankle. She cried out with alarm as she pitched forward. Though she gained her footing, the tart flew out of her grasp. It hit Corren in the chest and plopped onto his lap.

Dak’s beta leaped to his feet.

“NO!” Dak’s shout came too late to prevent Corren’s backhanded blow from knocking her to the floor.

Dak slammed his fist into Corren’s face. Blood sprayed as his nose shattered, but it did not deter Dak from grabbing him by the throat and shoving him against the wall. His beta grabbed his wrists but could not dislodge the grip. A hush fell over the room. No one—not even another Commander—would intervene when an Alpha disciplined a member of his household. Dak squeezed until Corren’s face purpled and his eyes bulged. Then he released him. Corren slumped to the floor, stained by blood and berries. He covered his broken nose, but crimson fluid leaked between his fingers.

Every muscle had coiled into a tense spring. “Clean up the mess,” Dak ordered. “Then wait for me in my office.”

Corren jerked and raised his head. Hatred flashed. Dak cared not. Corren would hate him more before the evening ended.

Cowardice had succeeded where courage had failed. Retreat was no longer an option. He could only stand bold.

A lowly breeder would inspire a jealous rage only if the accusations lobbed against him carried some truth. He did not support the Enclave or its females, but he did sympathize with this one, who sprawled on his floor.

Conscious that every move, every nuance would be used against him later, he assisted Omra to her feet. He could mitigate the damage by chastising her for dropping the pastry, could treat the matter as a petty spat within his domicile. Failure to manage his household would count as a lesser crime than to be labeled as a breederphile.

But he couldn’t do it.

He grasped her upper arms. She kept her head bowed.

“Look at me,” he ordered with a gentle shake.

She raised her head. A red splotch marred her tearstained cheek. Terror widened her violet eyes, darkened them to deep pools. With his gaze, he signaled she had nothing more to fear. Not from him. At least not this evening. “Go to my chamber and stay there,” he told her.

Color drained from her face, accenting the scarlet handprint. Frustration that she misunderstood, rage at Corren, and a deeper resentment that the ways of his race limited his choices, churned in his gut. He released her and stepped away before he heightened her distress. He could not alleviate her fear, could not say what needed to be said, not because of his adversaries’ surveillance, but for his lack. He could not define what he felt at this moment, and he suspected language would fail him if he knew.

“Go now.” He gave her a gentle shove toward the door.

After her exit, Dak drew himself up to his full height, tightened his muscles, and centered his weight on his heels. His physical size and bearing had deterred many an opponent, though never Marlix or Tarbek.

“We shall not speak of this.” He glanced at each of the men, the betas included. Corren crawled on the floor, picking up bits of broken crockery, his blood blending with the berries splattered across the gray stone. Dak leveled his gaze upon Marlix and Tarbek. “Let us retire to the library and partake of some Parseon brandy.”

The betas clustered around Corren as Dak led the Alphas from the dining chamber.

* * * *

Drinks were downed in haste. To Dak’s relief, the Alphas chose not to spend the night. The betas rejoined the Alphas in the grand foyer for the send-off. Corren, not in attendance, awaited his due in Dak’s office.

In accordance with Protocol, Tarbek and Marlix saluted; Dak returned it, then yanked open the thick, heavy door. Mist had begun to settle; morning would soon creep over the horizon. Weariness tugged at him, and he compensated with a rigid posture. He wanted to seek out Omra to reassure her but needed to deal with Corren first. The hair on his nape prickled, and he pivoted in time to catch Urazi and Veya gesturing. Veya opened his mouth, but Urazi pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head.

Marlix frowned; energy sizzled between the Alpha and his beta. Dak could say one thing for Marlix; he’d chosen a partner who matched his temperament and views. He could not conceive of two anointed pairings who were more alike in nature. He almost envied their coupling, except he suspected each man slept with a dagger at his side.

“Perhaps I shall host the next get-together,” Marlix said. “We can all bring our breeders and exchange them for the evening.”

“Perhaps
Corren
and I shall attend.” He would never bring Omra.

Marlix beckoned to Urazi, and they departed, leaving Dak alone with Tarbek and Veya.

“A most informative visit,” the Alpha said. “My beta and I thank you for your hospitality.” He started to leave, but Veya hung back.

“Uh…”

Tarbek halted and raised his eyebrows.

Veya fidgeted. “Permission to speak to the Commander Dak?”

Tarbek shrugged.

The tension knotted between Dak’s shoulder blades. “What is it?”

“Corren isn’t here.”

Dak narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“He, uh, left, Commander. Soon after the Alphas gathered in the library. He, uh, said he was going to stay with his brother.”

Enyi
. Corren had introduced him to the man he claimed as family long ago, but although Corren visited Enyi often, he’d only brought his sibling to their domicile once, though Dak had encouraged him to invite him more often. Though Dak did not get on well with his own brother, he did not begrudge his beta his kinship with his. But this unscheduled visit equated to public disobedience, disrespect. Abandonment. Grounds for severing their anointed union.

The gleam in Tarbek’s eyes turned speculative. And by now, Urazi would have informed Marlix as well, and the other Alpha would be assessing how he could manipulate the information to his benefit.

Dak acknowledged Veya’s announcement with a slight nod. “Thank you for telling me.”

After the men left, Dak bolted the door and leaned against it. Word of the manner in which his beta had dishonored him would spread. He should be enraged. Should have vowed immediate and severe reprisal. Except he felt drained. For the security of his command, he still might order Corren’s arrest and punishment. But if a positive outcome had arisen from the evening’s denouement, it was that he could focus on Omra without observation or judgment.

Hours had passed since he’d ordered her into his chamber. The time had come to lay her mind to rest. He wished he could settle his own.

Chapter Seven

Omra awakened to Alpha towering over her.

She scrambled off the platform. He’d ordered her to wait in his room but hadn’t given her permission to lie down. She’d waited and worried until the compounding weight of her fears had exhausted her. She had intended to close her eyes for one moment…

“I’m so sorry, Commander.” Apprehension thickened her throat. She’d witnessed what he was capable of. He had tossed Corren about with the same ease with which she shook out the rag she used to scrub the floors. She’d rattled dinner plates, stumbled, and upended the tart in front of an audience of two Alphas of the High Council and their betas. And now she’d been caught sleeping. “I did not mean to spill on Corren.” She wrung her hands.

His chest rose and fell on a sigh. “You did nothing wrong. I intended for you to drop the tart. I just failed to anticipate it would land where it did.”

Her jaw went the way of the pie. Corren frequently had caused her to blunder so he could punish her, but the Commander never had. When she had tripped over his foot, she’d assumed it was an accident on his part and clumsiness on hers. “Why?” The question burst out of her.

His gaze lingered on her still-throbbing cheek. He touched the corner of her eye with a gentle finger and drew a line from her temple to her chin, lighting a trail of fire that continued to burn after he lowered his hand to his side.

He twisted his mouth. “If you had spilled the tart, I could have ordered you to prepare another.”

“B-But I didn’t have any more berries. I only picked enough for one tart.”

A small smile touched his lips. “Then our guests would have been long gone by the time you finished, would they not?” He paused. “I did not want to share you with Marlix, Tarbek, or their betas.”

A load lifted from her shoulders, leaving her giddy with euphoric relief. The instant she’d been informed she would be serving members of the High Council, she’d dreaded she would be offered for their use. While Tarbek had spared her little attention, she’d felt violated by Marlix’s and Urazi’s leers. She’d surmised as soon as dinner ended, the Alpha and his beta would pounce, an assumption verified by Veya’s compassionate glances. Why would he offer sympathy if she didn’t need it? Marlix, in particular, made her want to shrink inside herself. She feared him even more than Sival.

“I regret you were victimized by my cowardice.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, bruised from striking Corren.

He’d didn’t want to share her! He’d been trying to protect her. Her head whirled. “Not cowardice, Commander. Political diplomacy.”

“You are kind.” Though he excelled at masking his emotion and he stood as tall and commanding as ever, an aura of defeat clung to him. She reached out and stroked his cheek. Roughened by the growth of beard, his skin bristled against her finger. Blue eyes blazed white. She yanked her hand away.

A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Have you been impregnated?”

A vacuum sucked the air from the room. Memories of their coupling filled the void. Pain, but mostly that odd tension, expectancy. Satisfaction and dissatisfaction both. A yearning. She shook her head. “I have not noticed any signs yet.”

Again using a single finger, he traced her jaw before meandering an invisible path to her neck and collarbone. She did not understand why his nearness caused her belly to clench and her sex to grow wet and throb, only knew she wanted
more
, that
more
would somehow sate the hunger.

But when she swayed toward him, he stepped out of reach, and fire froze to ice. “You may retire to your chamber.” He turned away.

His rejection slapped her harder than Corren’s blow. The pressure of tears swelled in her face, and she prayed she could suppress them until she reached the privacy of her room. She rushed to the door.

“But I hope you will remain.” Like pottery shattering on stone, he sounded rough and broken.

“You want me to stay?” Blood rushed in her ears. She wasn’t sure she’d heard him.

“Yes. But only if you choose. Do not remain because I am Alpha and I command it.” He executed a crisp and abrupt pivot. Muscles had tightened to close off his expression, making him appear hard, formidable, unapproachable, but a flicker in his gaze beseeched.

Her mouth dried. “I want to.”

“Be warned. I will take you. Like before.”

“I want you to.”