Stolen (Alpha's Claim 4)

Brenya knew of at least five citizens who had been reassigned. Three of them had been engineering grunts like her. “Berthe, Amie, Walter…”

“It was done quickly. There was no pain.” No remorse waited in Jacques’ eyes, and he held tight to her fingers when Brenya tried to pull her hand from his touch. “Termination is done in such a way that they never had a moment of fear. They never knew.”

Heart racing, trying to back away but unable to break his hold, she whispered, “You are going to have me killed if I don’t let you put that machine inside me again?”

“I am not telling you these secrets to frighten you. I am telling you so you might understand the changes in your body. You are unaccustomed to strong emotion or desire. Last night overwhelmed you. But all these feelings, they are yours, they have just been dampened until now.”

There had been times in her life the Brenya had felt adrenaline and fear, her fall from the Dome, for example. But she was more scared in this moment than she knew how to process. “You make it sound as if Betas are slaves.”

He dared to reach out with his free hand to toy with the choppy ends of her hair. “Some would argue that they are. Others would say they are honed, happy, and useful. Alphas are also controlled to keep aggression minimal. Only key Centrist families and government officials are excluded.”

“Those who were reassigned, all they did was look at the skyline.” Panic stole her breath, made her shake. “I’ve seen it too, you know. You can’t go out there and not see it.”

“My darling, sweet girl, I would never hurt you. I say these things to help you understand.”

She did not want to be this new person.

Cold and collected, methodical, organized, that was her home. Passion and endless emotion were a nightmare. “I don’t want to know these things! I don’t want to feel these things!”

“I am making you whole, and I will continue to do so, mon chou.” Abruptly rising to his feet, he stood over her. “I can’t have you weeping. I hate to see you afraid. If you don’t find a way to calm yourself, I’m going to do to you this morning what I did to you last night. I will make you feel better.”

She could not take it again. She could not handle more. “NOOOO!”

Where it came from, the urge to fight him, to bite and scratch, Brenya didn’t know. She went mad. The table with their yet uneaten breakfast was knocked over in her struggles, but she never stood a chance against a male so much stronger and faster than she. He had her over his shoulder, dragged her screaming through his rooms, until the mattress met her back and the muscular, great weight of pure Alpha held her down.

He reached to the bedside table, and the buzz of the unspeakable thing thrummed before he’d even thrust it inside her.

Voice caught on a gasp, heart in her throat, she felt the pinch of her labia parting, and it began all over.

Inside her skin she was dying, and something else, something alien, was taking over, moving her hips against that intrusion. Sounds came from parted lips that should never have been uttered.

All the while he held her down, forced her thighs apart, and spoke to her of why this was necessary. “Your body must be assisted to adapt. That way I won’t hurt you when you need correction.” He fiddled with the edge of the device penetrating her body, altering its programing until it began to expand in her slit. “Right now you need to be reminded that you are safe. You will find relief in submission. Don’t fight it.”

Was the absolute loss of control worse the second time?

Brenya tried to exist beyond her body, to hold on to anything besides the expansion of sensation and her inability to escape.

The afternoon before in attempting to defend Annette, Brenya had not won their game. She had not won anything.

Nor had she been punished… According to the Alpha thrusting his machine into her body, this thing he was doing to her was her prize.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, Jacques, Commodore of Bernard Dome from whom all orders are issued, had ordered her, his Omega, to take off her clothes right there in the parlor. The door was still closing, Annette and Ancil making their retreat, and Brenya knew they had heard their leader’s edict.

She knew Ancil had seen Jacques pull her to her feet, had seen his leader tugging impatiently at the sleeves of her Centrist clothing. Their eyes had met where the door cracked, Ancil standing there for a moment to watch.

Just as he’d watched Jacques rape her in the ventilation duct.

He would have kept watching if Jacques had not growled a warning that another male stood too close.