Breeder (3 page)

“I know.” Another smile slid across Anika’s face.

Anika seduced BCF workers in exchange for privileges, food, and information. Omra did not judge, she just didn’t understand why it seemed to work. “How can you give what they will take anyway?” She voiced her thoughts.

“The ones who will demand their pleasure you cannot deal with. But others are different.”

“I have not encountered any of those,” Omra replied but wondered if Alpha was different. Though he hadn’t hesitated to impose his will, he had not acted with cruelty, not even in the manner in which he’d punished her. Any other man would have beaten her half to death for biting him. She was not scared of Alpha. To serve in his household would be the very best she could expect, but she feared to hope. Many times she had been passed over for purchase due to the director’s machinations. Her situation had never seemed as favorable as it did now, but too many things could go wrong before the morn.

Shouting penetrated the walls. Omra’s gaze collided with Anika’s golden one. She couldn’t decipher the muffled words, but the tone vibrated with rage.

“It is happening.” Anika jumped up. She glanced at the window, then at Omra. “Do you want to watch?”

Yes, she did. She would believe nothing but the evidence before her own eyes. And maybe not even that. “How can I?” She assessed the heavy stone bench. It weighed too much to move.

“Like this.” Anika set the panna on the bench and dropped to her haunches under the window. “Get on my back.”

More yelling. Mostly unintelligible, but a few epithets filtered through. She recognized Sival’s voice. Then a vile curse linked to the word “breeder.” Why did she assume he aimed the invective at her?

Anika gestured with her chin. “What are you waiting for?”

Wincing, Omra rose to her feet. She braced her palms on the wall and climbed onto Anika’s back. Clinging to the sill for balance, she poked her head up. She took a moment to enjoy the fresh air and evening sun caressing her face before seeking out the scene playing out in the quad. “It
is
the director.” Her legs wobbled at the mere sight of him.

“I told you! What do you see?”

“He is manacled. They are preparing to string him up, but he resists.” Two large men wearing the uniform of Alpha’s guards dragged the cursing director toward the whipping post. The director had been stripped of his clothing and wore a small cloth to cover his manhood. Though Sival struggled, the guards chained the cuffs on his wrists and ankles to the massive wooden posts so his body formed an X.

At least half the staff of the BCF stood in the quad, watching. She scanned the walls enclosing the commons and spied other female faces peering out the windows. The director’s ignominy would not be forgotten. She shivered, relieved he couldn’t see her.

The two guards stepped aside, and a third one brandishing a flogger moved into place. “They are using a
talia
.” A whip with a barbed cluster at the tip. A single strike would draw blood. He would be scarred by the time his punishment ended.

“He deserves everything he gets, but I wonder what he did to merit it.”

The guard snapped the talia several times to ready his aim. The crowd grew silent. Into the quiet, the director spewed curses and yanked at the shackles.

The guard stepped back, raised his arm, and flicked his wrist. The talia hissed. Sival’s shouted epithet morphed into a wordless scream. Omra flinched. A streak of scarlet across his shoulders dripped red. A second hiss, a higher scream, and a gash of crimson appeared alongside the first.

Three more strikes, and the director’s back ran red. Bile bubbled up in Omra’s throat. Her stomach churned, and her legs trembled. “I cannot watch anymore.” She eased off Anika. She did not like how the director had treated her, what he had planned, but the whipping was the severest she’d ever witnessed. What could Sival have done to deserve it? She shuddered. Alpha was not a man to displease. Perhaps she had reason to fear him after all.

Her cell mate stood and rubbed her knees. “I wish I could watch.”

“You can,” Omra said and started to kneel.

“No.” Anika touched her arm. “I can’t stand on you.”

“Don’t be silly. It is my face that suffers. The rest of me is fine,” she lied, omitting her hip, shoulder, and thigh hurt after hitting the floor. She lowered herself onto all fours.

Anika looked doubtful.

Omra raised her head. “Do you want to watch or not?”

Anika placed her foot between Omra’s shoulder blades. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

“I will.” She wouldn’t. Anika had done so much for her already. Sneaked her food and water when the director had curtailed it, tended to her wounds when she’d been flogged, made her laugh. Been her friend. She would remember her kindness forever.

She averted her face so Anika would not see her tears. Either she or Anika would be purchased, and they would never see each other again.

Her friend hopped onto her back, and Omra muffled a grunt of pain.

For a long moment, Anika peered out the window, saying nothing, but flinching with every strike of the talia, every scream. Then a lull. “Have they finished?” Omra asked.

“No. He has lost consciousness. They are dumping water over his head to revive him.”

She’d no sooner spoken and another shriek rent the air. And another. Finally, a silence fell, followed by the murmur of the crowd. Anika jumped off. “They have released him. He has fallen in the dirt. It is stained with his blood.”

Omra staggered to her feet. “How many lashes did he receive?”

“Fifteen perhaps. You should eat.” Anika jerked her head at the panna.

Her stomach roiled. “Maybe later.” She moved away from the wall with the window.

Anika snorted in self-disgust. “I never should have stood on you. Your backside is all red. Why did you not tell me the director had paddled you?”

Omra rubbed a butt cheek, but the pressure worked the venom in deeper and increased the burning. She jerked her hand away. “It stings a little.” She dismissed the pain and twisted her hands. “But
I
have news to share with you.” She hated to speak of possibilities, feared voicing them would raise hope, which would be dashed. How many other alphas had inquired about her, only to be discouraged by the director?

“Alpha came here,” she whispered.

Anika’s face lit up. “An alpha? That is wonderful. Did he like you?”

“Not
an
alpha.
The
Alpha.”

A frown creased Anika’s brows. “I do not understand.”

Omra wet her swollen bottom lip. It tasted rusty. “
Alpha
. Commander Dak of the fifth province of Parseon.”

“No.” Anika’s jaw dropped. “You tease.”

“I am serious. Sival called him Commander and all but licked his boots.” She touched her right nipple. “He wore his insignia, the moon of Parseon within a five-point star.” Like other uniforms worn by Parseon males, a long sleeve had covered Alpha’s left shoulder and arm but bared the other side to show the insignia that pierced his right nipple. “
He
paddled me.”

“
Alpha
did? Why?”

“I bit him.”

Anika’s eyes bulged, and she shifted her gaze to the window through which they’d watched the flogging. Omra could read her mind. It could have been her out there. It still might be. “Are you mentally deficient?” Anika burst out in a hushed tone.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, humor twitched at Omra’s mouth. “That’s what Alpha asked the director!” She sobered. “But no. Sival had informed me of an alpha’s visit and ordered me to avoid attracting attention, but I sneezed, and the Commander spotted me. When he examined my teeth, I bit him to discourage him from picking me. I did not realize he was Alpha.

“When he spanked me, he noticed the lock-ring and wanted to buy me. That is why the director hit me.” She touched her face. “He had planned to sell me on the interplanetary market, but I think inflicting pain excites him. He had intended to use me when the Commander’s men interrupted him.”

“How do you know Sival planned to sell you?”

“He told me.”

“Did Alpha find out? Maybe
that’s
why Sival was punished.”

Omra shook her head. It ached with the movement. “I doubt that is the case. Who would risk Sival’s wrath to tell Alpha?”

“Who would risk Alpha’s wrath?” Anika countered.

Certainty eroded, and fear flung its seeds like a stinging nettle bush.
Alpha’s
guards had summoned Sival. She recalled her initial hunch the Commander had ordered the flogging. As a race, Parseon men were brutal, their violent urges mitigated only by Protocol. She’d never seen anyone whipped as savagely as Sival had been. What if she aroused Alpha’s ire? She would be at the mercy of one of the most powerful men on the planet.

But could the situation be any worse than what you have experienced so far?

If Alpha did not purchase her and take her away, Sival would exact revenge for the flogging. She was sure of it. He would beat her and
then
sell her to the interplanetary trader. An alien.

A clank sounded. “You, breeder!” A BCF tech appeared at the gate and jabbed his finger in Omra’s direction. “Come with me.” He unlocked the cell.

“Where are you taking her?” Anika asked.

“That is not your concern.”

“Don’t worry.” Omra patted her friend’s shoulder but trudged out of the cell on leaden feet.

The guard delivered her to the cleansing station. Large holes had been blasted into the stone, forming basins into which water was piped. Numerous women bathed in the pools before BCF staff siphoned and refilled the basins.

A tech shoved a bar of acrid-smelling cleanser into her hand and gestured to the nearest pool. Though the water often grew murky after so many baths, today it appeared clear and fresh. But Omra was still suspicious.

“Get in. What are you waiting for?” He shoved her.

She crept to the edge of the basin and dipped a toe into the water. Tepid. She exhaled in relief and eased into the hip-deep water. Other females bathed weekly, but the director had withheld her privileges. When he permitted her to wash, the water had been scalding on two occasions, icy on another.

She’d been whipped for refusing to bathe.

How long had it been since her last bath? Three complete moon phases? Four? After so long, the water felt glorious against her skin. Holding her nose, she submerged herself.

After she popped up, she lathered her hands with the cleansing agent. It smelled of disinfectant and stung her injuries, but after wallowing in her own filth for so long, Omra welcomed any opportunity to get clean, although she longed for the pleasant aromas of the bathing bars used in her sire’s house. She remembered many things of those days, but the scents were especially strong.

She hurried through her bathing, uncertain how much time she had. She could be ordered out with her hair still soapy, and she’d be itchy for days.

When she climbed out of the basin, the tech threw her a rough drying cloth and a shift. The last one she’d worn had been torn from her body before a whipping; she hadn’t been given another. She slipped into it. The midthigh-length, sleeveless beige garment draped across her chest, leaving her right breast exposed.

After the cleansing station, she was led to an empty room and instructed to wait. She sat on a stone bench. Moments later, another tech entered with a metal case.

“You are the breeder, Omra?”

“Yes.”

“Stand up.” He set his case on the bench and opened it.

She did as ordered, but her stomach lurched when the tech fitted an open ring into the metal tagging tool. Parseon culture considered the ability to withstand pain a sign of strength. She knew better than to ask for something to mute discomfort. It would not be given, and requesting it would make her appear weak.

“Keep still.” He pinched her right nipple and pulled it taut, placed the muzzle of the tagger at its base, and pressed the trigger.

Fire shot through her. The room grayed. When the fog cleared, she stared at the ring. Telenium like her sire’s lock-ring, but this one bore Alpha’s insignia and marked her as his property. Her nipple hurt fiercely, but she did not bleed; the tagger was equipped with a coagulator.

Back in her cell, an excited Anika gushed over Alpha’s ring. Food arrived, and they ate. Though she’d also been given a clean mat, sleep failed to come. She stared into the night. Her purpose in life would soon be fulfilled.
It is happening. I’ve been purchased. By Alpha.

I hope.

What if the Commander did not arrive in the morning, but a trader from the interplanetary market came instead?

Chapter Three

Dak spent the night in town, using the time to meet with local officials. When the sun broke over the horizon, he arose, eager to be on his way. He could have gone home the night before and dispatched Corren to the BCF to retrieve Omra. It was unusual for an alpha, let alone a Commander, to concern himself with such a trivial pursuit as retrieving a breeder, but a hunch insisted he finalize the acquisition himself. He did not announce possibilities or probabilities, but certainties. On the chance the purchase would fail, he hadn’t informed Corren about Omra. And if he had, Corren still wouldn’t know what she looked like. Dak distrusted the director and half expected his staff to try to substitute another breeder of similar appearance. An adult female with purity intact was a rare find. She should have been the first one presented to him, yet Sival had omitted her. Had the director hidden her from other alphas as well? Did that explain why she hadn’t been sold? Toward what end would Sival have interfered with her purchase?

Dak shrugged off his contemplation. Though pure and not uncomely, she was still only a breeder. She occupied too much of his thoughts. After she delivered his sons, he would have little to do with her. She would be used far more by Corren.

He strode into Outtake, but it was vacant except for the tech and a wretched creature with a misshapen purple face wearing a ragged shift.