“My Omega enjoys when I brush her hair.” The locks that had modestly covered her bare breasts were gathered, Sergeant Uriel rubbing the golden waves between his fingers. “Would you enjoy such attention?”
Another test? “Does an Alpha enjoy offering it?”
“There is a deep satisfaction earned in pleasing one’s mate.”
Back in the settlement, after long days laboring over a loom, her mother would comb out her hair—offering her only child comfort, compassion, and love. The manipulation of large male hands wouldn’t erase the memory, only make it more painful. “Then I would be expected to comply.”
“That is an unsatisfactory answer, Morgaine.”
Anxiety bubbled into depression. Silent tears fell, Morgaine afraid if he heard her so much as sniff, a lesson would follow. “I don’t have a mate to comb out my hair, so I cannot answer you.”
“Do you want a mate?”
She wanted her mother. Eyes red, sinuses swollen, she stared forward and strove to be obedient. “You say a mate will make me feel happy. Everyone wants to be happy.”
“What’s wrong, Morgaine?”
She shook her head and did what Sergeant Uriel had told her was her purpose. “Nothing. What would you like me to do next?”
He wiped her tears, gentle in action but stern in voice. “Stop crying.”
Quiet, she nodded… and failed.
The wet drips kept falling.
With a resigned sigh, the sergeant dropped his hands from her hair and took a step away. “This will not do, Omega.”
Scrubbing her cheeks with the back of her hand, Morgaine sniffed. “I’m trying. I swear it.”
“And I believe you.” Abandoning her to her mood, he moved away. “Eat. I will return later.”
With that last word, he disappeared, leaving her a whole day alone to sit with her thoughts. The time was spent instead in dark, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 9
Half buried under the scented furs, Morgaine barely stirred when Uriel burst in for the next day’s work.
His demeanor had altered drastically. Pensive agitation was gone, fresh determination behind his words instead. “We knew you would be feral, but having analyzed your complaints, we agree you are also under the false impression that you are not safe or cared for by our strict standards.”
Pacing back and forth, he spoke as if addressing soldiers at attention. “Every law has been followed. Every rule exacted with precision to ease your adjustment.”
Rubbing her eyes, Morgaine sat up with all the enthusiasm of a woman about to be fed to lions.
Appraising the unenthusiastic bend of her spine, he paused his march. He even bore the look of regret. “I cannot provide what you require. As such, there is only one recourse. Your belligerent temperament has altered the timeline for the selection of your mate.”
Unmoved, almost unfeeling, Morgaine asked, “Who?”
Coming to stand at the edge of the sleeping pit, Uriel frowned down upon the sad scene—an Omega who refused the comforts offered. “Despite your protests, I will no longer deny suitors from their rightful turn for physical interaction. Corporal Esin holds the greatest claim, he shall be first. Penetration will be permitted.”
Her fate was inevitable. Perhaps it was best to have it over with. “When?”
“At bedtime he will share your nest, with or without your initial cooperation. Tomorrow the next in line shall attend you, then the next, until arbitration has ended. You will acquiesce immediately if you are wise. Remember what is at stake if you… misbehave.”
Yes. They would publicly maim her mother… again.
Morgaine slumped back against the pillows, utterly defeated. “If Esin already has the greatest claim, then why draw out handing me over? Just give me to him and be done with it.”
Sergeant Uriel gestured toward the fur scraps she so pointedly refused. “Each pelt is a sampling of those who would contest his stake. As you can see, there are many soldiers to consider. Had you favored a scent from your nest, it would have altered the odds and ended arbitration more quickly. You have not done so.”