Sighing, he threw his weight back into his chair, hand to the air as if beseeching the Gods for help. “Brenya, please try.”
More pasta was chewed, swallowed, to land in a distended belly that ached with emptiness. “I don’t understand what answer you want me to give you. You know I am in pain.”
“If you wish to discuss what happened earlier, then there is no answer required. The harder I fuck you, the closer you grow to accepting your place as my mate. When I am gentle, you are restless, lying under me with your eyes closed and your body limp. When I am rough, you engage.”
“You want me to fight back because I no longer say no when you mount me?” There were so many flaws in that statement, so much ugliness to it, that her stomach roiled and all the noodles were about to come up.
“You don’t touch me, mon chou.”
That was untrue. “I stimulate your erection with my hands in the exact way you taught me to. I use my mouth and tongue to fulfill the commands given as you move my head. I swallow.”
“What if I were to organize an event where you could watch an Alpha and Omega mate properly? Is that what you need to see to understand that you are more to me than the pretty pussy I knot? Your place is in the moment, seeking pleasure from your mate instead of tolerating.”
“At lunch, your coat had exactly twenty-four buttons. Now, you wear a coat with seven. Why are you wearing a different coat?” Why did Centrist do anything the way they did?
The male sighed. “Because it is dinner, Brenya. And that’s how things are done.”
And of course, that made no sense to her. “And if I touch you when you mount me, you’ll make it hurt less? Because that is how things are done?”
The man looked as if her words cut him, as if she were the one causing him pain. “You are tormenting me with your indifference.”
12
Considering the subject matter, a straightforward approach would serve better than manipulation. After all, the Commodore had tried the simplicity of allowing things to run their course, offering dignity to a man who deserved none. It would have been a simple thing for Jules Havel to eat his meals, the Beta mellowing after digesting the proper dosage for a male of his size and strength. The secondary buffer—beyond the joint pair-bond—necessary.
The entire fate of Bernard Dome was at stake—not to mention the safety of Jacques' precious mate.
And though he would prefer the ease of simply killing the man, Jules needed to be alive and well to serve his function. Protecting Brenya, and therefore all of his people, from Chancellor Shepherd’s threat of unleashing the virus.
But these exchanges were growing tiresome.
Or, lack of exchange, for a better word.
With Brenya back in their nest, knowing she slept fitfully without him, Jacques had rushed dressing to confront a burden, grabbing a midday coat instead of an evening jacket. The enlightening dinner he had just shared with his mate having changed everything regarding forward momentum in retaining her happiness.
It had made Jacques leave the peace of his bed to deal with a fiend where they would not be overheard by a sweetly chiming Omega soul.
Entering the viewing area outside the cell of his new rabid dog, Jacques adjusted his cuff. The male within undeserving of his full attention, considering his behavior. “Ambassador Havel, did you know there are no prisons in Bernard Dome? Until your arrival, they were unnecessary.”
The man behind the clear amorphous metal did not so much as turn his head to acknowledge that the Commodore had paid him yet another personal visit.
Jules Havel, mercenary and madman, simply sat on the floor and stared at the bleak, gray wall before him. His behavior predictable, boring even.
“I ordered this installation converted the night I agreed to Chancellor Shepherd’s trade. Previously, this storage room was stocked with racks of aging red wines. As you must have noticed, Ambassador, the walls are solid—a meter of cement to maintain the optimum temperature with little intervention of electricity. Unfortunately, there is no plumbing, hence the bucket. A short-term solution should a complicated situation arise.”
And a complication had arisen, Jacques grateful for his foresight. Which was why he was Commodore and all who contested his rule were dead.
“Ambassador Havel, this was never intended to be your long-term home.” Yet it had been the perfect kennel for a foreign threat. “Merely a place of transition and transformation. Yet it seems you wish to stay.”
The cuff of Jacques’ fresh shirt was properly adjusted, the Alpha moved to correct the other sleeve. “You see, in Bernard Dome, on the rare occurrence of criminal behavior, the instigator is instantly euthanized—a humane process that has worked for centuries and led to a peaceful population. My city, it is a treasure of culture and refinement in this empty world. The perfect civilization: ordered, organized, maintained, and cultivated. Paradise at the price of a steady decline in the Omega population… until there were none to be found. Being Beta, you cannot imagine what it is like to be an Alpha missing his other half and living in a world where it will never appear.”