She needed his attention to stay on her, not on how Annette cautiously crept nearer her husband. “I did not like the broth you brought me, and I have not liked a single thing on this plate. So, no, I don’t think you are suited to choose food I will enjoy. Everything here tastes terrible.”
The man chuckled, his eyes, those bizarre, verdant eyes danced. “I had a feeling you would be funny. Would you like to make a bet?”
“Betting is illegal, condemned by Oversight with penalties ranging from fines to imprisonment.”
He outright laughed, taken completely with her nonsense and blunt rejoinders. “Then we shall call it a game. The winner gets a prize.”
Brenya nodded, her cheeks slightly compressed by his hands. “Okay.”
“It has been over a week since you arrived, and your doctor ordered that I can no longer feed you what your body truly craves.” His fingertips swiped over her lips, alluding to the fluids he’d fed the Omega in bed—of how she had loved the taste. “My body’s offering would only encourage your system to cling to the last traces of estrous, and I hate to see you suffer. But, I will find something for you to enjoy.”
She felt her cheeks go red, and it took a great deal of willpower to not glance at Annette and Ancil to see if they understood what he’d said.
Fingers carded through her hair, around her ears, under her chin. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. What I shared with you was a healthy offering from an Alpha for his mate. You have been designed to need and enjoy it.”
This was not comfortable conversation for Brenya. “What is the game?”
There was something deep inside him, some drive to dominate always. Jacques growled in a way that made her stomach feel funny. “This is the game. I’m playing with you right now, and I am winning.”
She was out of her depth.
A small contemplative noise came from her throat, Brenya pouting as she considered. “I am taking Annette’s punishment?”
A large portion of Jacques’ delight vanished. His voice was much louder, so all might hear. “Only Annette can take her punishment.”
This was Brenya’s chance. She put her fingers on the Alpha’s face in mirror of his touch on her. Shock came to his features, as did distrust. “If the game is to say things that make the other person uncomfortable, I can play.” She pat his cheek, just as he had done to her, and whispered, “You dragged me down a ventilation duct, slammed me against a wall, put your hands around my throat. You… hurt me. Ancil watched. Annette saw the aftermath when I was brought here—you’d summoned her to witness. It has upset her because she is capable of compassion. You swore to me you would make amends. Punishing her for desiring to defend a single, confused Omega is in contradiction to your oath.”
“You,”—Jacques’ hands delved into blonde hair. He took her nape, leaning over his prize so it was clear who was in charge—“own me.”
Clarity, Brenya had not felt mentally sharp since she’d fallen from the Dome, but in that moment she had it. The tension where he subtly pulled her hair, the scent of him… for just one instant, she liked it.
He had seen the change in her, for again, his eyes began to burn. “Mon chou, do you forgive me?”
Sobering from the lapse, Brenya asked. “Did I win the game?”
His mouth ever so slowly descended to hers, the way his lips played languorous. When it was done, when she’d held still without cringing, he sighed. “I’ll always let you win.”Chapter 4The rising sun cast a brief arcing rainbow through the convex side of the Dome. Perched upon the Commodore’s private terrace, wrapped in his robe, Brenya sat in the chair he’d carried her to, she drank the tea he’d poured for her, and knew his eyes never left her face.
She felt utterly alone.
Though his shirtless appearance was beautiful, it was hard to look at him.
He had done something unspeakable to her…
Remnants of his games were all over her body, whether or not his robe might cover them.
It was a beautiful morning, the weather outside the Dome full of silvery skies and the soft threat of a coming light rain in the distance. Nature would wash the dust from the side of Bernard Dome, make it new and shining—a beacon of civilization beside the rot of an ancient lost city.
Rain never fell inside the Dome. Rain would never fall on Brenya’s bruised skin, or wash away the dried semen Jacques had drenched her with while it was still dark.
Something unspeakable.
The Alpha seated at her side ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek until he could gently catch her chin and turn her head. “Mon chou, why are you crying?”
It was unnatural, her responses. She could not control even a simple physical reaction, had lost all composure to the whims of a body she no longer owned—because it was owned by Jacques Bernard. Brenya was fading away, so whatever it was he longed to encourage in her, the Omega taking over her mind, might thrive.