Stolen (Alpha's Claim 4)

The golden spoon was shaking before Annette’s parted lips, Ancil turning to snarl at his wife.

The low threat of his growl was enough to push the woman over the edge. She shoved the poisoned food in her mouth, weeping as she swallowed.

Frantic, Brenya called out, “Stop!”

“Annette, it seems your presence is disruptive. Leave the table. The remainder of your meal will be taken in your room.” Ancil waved over a servant, ordering him to gather both the food and his wife at once.

Orders were obeyed without question. The door opened, Annette rounded away, and when the portal closed, something in Brenya snapped.

Ancil smirked at her look of hatred. “From now on, Lucia will serve as your companion. Annette will be busy raising my children and have no time for you.”

Silence cut at her skin, fueling the fire growing behind her eyes.

Staring down a horrible man, a voice came from Brenya as if born from another person. “As a Beta I labored every day to assure your safety, took on the most dangerous assignments, conducted complex repairs so you would survive. I studied harder, worked longer than any of my peers. I pushed the limits of my mind and body more times than I can remember. Tirelessly, each morning I spoke the same oath everyone under this Dome is trained to recite.

“It is my sworn duty to protect the Dome and all who live within.

“I meant those words. I love and would die for the people of Bernard Dome without question. There was cohesion and flawless symmetry amongst my peers. We did not compete or compare.

“And then I was brought here and I met you. I was told I could not be a Beta anymore, that my training, education, and expertise were no longer necessary. My entire purpose for existing is a joke to you, the Commodore’s disfigured Omega toy.

“Now I am learning the ways of Central. There is no oath recited upon waking here. You serve yourselves and scheme. You abuse your females. You eat off china plates and drink wine from five different crystal glasses. You’re cruel, and you are selfish.

“If life in Central is a reflection of humanity before the Red Consumption, I can clearly see why everybody died. I now understand why Domes have failed. It was not due to women like me. It was due to men like you.

“You are a disease.

“But ultimately you are powerless. Should catastrophe strike, who would you come running to? You would come running to me. Would I help you? I don’t know anymore. I dislike you more than any person I have met in my life.”

A snide lip curled, Ancil absently swishing wine in his goblet. “Control your female, Jacques. I don’t believe she’s learned her place.”

Brenya was far from done. “I will find a way to make you pay for what you’ve done to Annette.”

Fingers came around her throat, and they were not Ancil’s. Jacques held her in mirror to how he enjoyed restraining her when fucking her face on. Only he was not staring at her in wonderment, but in rage. No words were spoken as he forced her body back, as he squeezed to the point she gasped.

Bracing for the coming blow, instead Brenya found herself dragged from table, feet catching on the carpet and tangling in her long skirt.

He’d dragged her somewhere this way once before, and she was soon to learn the outcome would be the same.

His words were colder than the diamonds cutting into her throat. “Pardon me, gentlemen, lady. I need to have a word with my mate.”

The door closed, Brenya unsure what room they were in. There was no time to look before he bent her over the back of a couch. It was a marvel how quickly he bunched up her skirt, how violently he tore away the thin scrap of silk covering her sex. She could hardly reach back and try to stop him before he made the noise that would slicken her passage. Then his cock shoved in, Jacques fucking her so hard the couch scratched over the floor with each thrust.

“You are never to threaten an Alpha! You are never to put yourself in danger that way!”

Ribs pressed into the sculpted wooden top of the sofa, Brenya could not breathe to reply. She could do nothing but kick her leg in an attempt to brace.

His invasion was all she knew, every stretch and pull of her cunt distracting until she was caught up and drowning past her horror and grief.

He’d promised he’d never strike her in anger. This was so much worse.

“You are never to growl at a male!”

Had she done that to Ancil, or had she done it to Jacques when he’d taken her throat in his fist? Was she growling at him now? She could not think, could do nothing but claw at the couch.