Who cared if he’d also tended to the many bruises on her body? It didn’t matter that they had been smeared with dried healing unguent, that they no longer hurt when poked.
Staring at the flaking orange signs of his attention, she felt great shame prickle all over her skin.
I know what will make you feel better. That’s what he’d said.
She wanted to rub his touch off her skin, grabbing at a random fur scrap to scour the medicine away. Underneath, the bruises had already begun to fade to yellow. Soon they would be completely gone. But the memory of his fingers toying with her breast… that would never leave her mind.
The scabs at her knees looked almost healed. They would shed, the skin would be new, and all the wounds she’d earned trying to be free of Alpha monsters would be gone.
Just as her dress was gone. Just as her mother was gone.
Mother…
Morgaine could still hear her mother screaming, begging, as the Alpha scooped her up against his rough armor and carted her out the door. And what had she done? Nothing, she’d hung from his arms like a stuffed doll, eyes rolling back—her last view the cottage rafters hung with their bunches of drying herbs.
There had never even been a goodbye.
Because Morgaine had fallen asleep cradled by a monster who’d threatened to burn her mother alive.
In that moment, she couldn’t hate herself more.
Choking cries, hot tears, were lost against her knees. Her skin might be healing, the bone deep ache in her muscles slowly abating, but the pain in her heart was forever.
Morgaine hoped they came soon to kill her. She prayed that however the Alphas saw fit to execute her would be horrific. She deserved to suffer.
Just as she knew her mother was suffering now.
“It is not necessary to mourn. You’re in no danger, Omega.”
Where he’d come from she did not know. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that a stranger was standing over where she’d curled up in despair.
With a startled shriek, Morgaine flew from the cushions. Throwing a knee over the ledge of the sunken bed, she scrambled out and ran naked to the farthest corner of the room.
One look at that Alpha and all her hubris in wishing for death vanished. It was too hard to face the end bravely when the executioner was actually there to drag her to it.
Cowering behind her hair, visibly shaking, she sobbed, “Don’t touch me!”
Stoic in his regard, the Alpha had not moved, and the ease of his stance gave no indication he was preparing to chase her. The stranger in vermilion armor was stone. “My name is Sergeant Uriel. As a mated Alpha of proper rank, I have been tasked with managing your transition.”
Desperate to put something between her naked body and his armored one, Morgaine abandoned her corner and ran behind a table laden with food. Lifting a chair before her, she clutched it close to her chest, ready to swing it as a potential weapon if he thought to pursue.
Adrenaline spiked her heart rate, made her pupils contract, and even added spite to her tongue. “What happened to my mother?”
“You were procured by Corporal Esin. Any penalties that were inflicted on the Beta woman you will need to ask him about yourself.” Sergeant Uriel took a step closer. “Put the chair down.”
Modesty be damned. She raised her weapon higher. “No.”
“You were ill when he found you, and would not have survived much longer without the care of a vigilant Alpha.” Another measured step brought Sergeant Uriel closer. “Omegas require specific attention. Here, you will receive that attention.”
That word again, that hated title used to make naughty children behave else they be taken. To be Omega was to be something terrible. “I am not an Omega. Omegas are dangerous, and I’ve never hurt a soul. I’ve never even broken a law.”
The man stopped his advance, cocking a brow as if to point out the falsehood of her last statement.
She didn’t know where the boldness came from. Perhaps it was because she knew her end was near. What point was there in holding her tongue now? “There is no law that says colonists have to be present when Alphas invade to steal our crops and livestock.”
“Impudence is not tolerated, Omega. Neither are lies. I’ll forgo teaching you a lesson this once, as you are adapting to this new situation and are visibly upset. Yet I caution you not to test my benevolence.”
The way he’d spoken the word lesson, how his voice had dropped and grown cold, put ice in Morgaine’s veins. Her skin grew clammy, the hairs on her arms stood up on end. Even her throat grew tight. More tears came, and with much less confidence, she said, “I’m not an Omega.”