He went from fuming to furious. “You know I can make you like anything I choose to do to you. I can make you cry out for me on my whim. I own this body of yours, heart and soul. You’re mine no matter your refusal or tonight’s paltry rebellion. I can do things to you in the dark that, come morning, will leave you smiling and humming in my arms.”
He was going to hurt her for saying what she would, might even have her terminated that night. It didn’t matter; resentment had control of her tongue. “Like bend me over a couch and rape me while your awful friends listen?”
“You came. There was no blood, I checked.” He reared back to his knees, large and looming, every vein in his neck standing out as he growled, “More importantly, ignorant Omega, the lesson was one you should take to heart. I’d rather abuse you, as you put it, than give any of those males cause to see to your demise. Every player at court is dangerous. If I don’t correct you, they will. If I fail to mark you as mine, one of them will take you. Ancil was the greatest contender, now he has his own mate to protect. I may no longer have to worry about him salivating over you, but he is the last Alpha under the Dome you want as an enemy.”
His explanation did nothing to cool her temper, in fact, it drove her to grind her teeth. “I didn’t say abused, I said raped.”
Jacques slammed a fist into the mattress, snarling, “I demand you forgive me this instant!”
“NO!”
There was a deafening roar of a monster pushed too far.
Self-preservation broke through Brenya’s rage. She stilled, watching the threat stare down at her as if ready to snap her neck.
When the man grew instantly, unnervingly composed, when he smiled as if formulating something truly terrible, she was already shaking her head no and trying to scramble away.
“Brenya…” In a flash he had her wrists in a careful grasp, rubbing his thumbs in soft circles over vulnerable flesh. “Brenya, where are you going?”
Refusing to answer, she faced the predator and lay as still as stone.
He set one of her hands free, collecting the fingers of the other to rub one by one. Next he turned her palm upward, his thumbs kneading the flesh. Her wrist, forearm, elbow all received attention. When his grip made it to her shoulder, Brenya swallowed, sure her neck was next.
Would he look her in the eye as he broke it? Or would it be a slow strangulation?
Menacing fingertips trailed over diamond covered collarbones, moving to the opposite shoulder. He treated the second arm as the first, gently working stiff muscle groups, holding her gaze with misleading, soft eyes.
Warm palms engulfed her rib cage, smoothing downward over flank and hip. Over her skirt he kneaded a thigh, taking ages to feel out all tension and reflexively command it away. The lightest of purrs colored the air, the male inhaling deep and slow as he watched her, until Brenya too was mirroring his breath.
Over many long minutes, antagonism drained into the mattress, the hypnotic power of his purr, the slow moving touch of his hands instilling an inescapable physical response. Her eyes grew heavy, so heavy she could hardly keep them open. She was already fading into dreamland when he slowly turned her body over.
The soft grate of the zipper was ignored under the weight of his purr. She even groaned into the pillow when those warm hands began to work on her uncovered back.
It was many hours before she woke to find herself naked, tucked into bed, the Bernard diamonds still strung around her throat. There was no Alpha body warming hers. But he was there, watching her from his chair, Jacques’ jade eyes aglow in the dark.Chapter 17Greta DomeHe had promised her a new world, but standing in it felt strange. Where Thólos, in its glory, had been cramped concrete and crowds, there was little of that in her life anymore. Greth was built to mirror nature, rocks, growing things, water—all amidst civilization.
But she avoided Followers. She avoided the city below.
Though Shepherd had not voiced it, Claire knew he would rather keep her separate from his men—too many Alphas coming and going. Twice she had tried to walk outside her rooms, to see if she could do it. The first time she had hardly crossed the threshold, unable to move further. The second time she walked to the palace grounds. Shepherd had been at a distance, working with his men. He was her goal, her first test of herself in ages.
Those silver eyes had watched her every step, her mate having been notified of her approach. When he’d gone still, so had the rest of them—as if they were all infected somehow by her being there. Those first steps ended right past the carved wood doors that separated living quarters from bureaucracy. Claire had frozen, actually immobile, and could not move forward or back. There was some weird limbo, a feeling of wobbling in her belly.