Stolen (Alpha's Claim 4)
If that didn’t work, she was going to touch him as if she wanted to, exactly as Annette had described. She was going to finish him before he might take off her dress.
With Annette at her side, they had shared a quiet afternoon—the Beta woman composing a letter, Brenya napping on a divan near a fine view of the city.
To spend a day doing nothing for the sake of pleasure was uncustomary. By this hour, Brenya would have walked outside the Dome, made repairs, written her log, walked back to Beta Sector, showered, attended to her duties in the barracks. Instead she had spent the day sleeping while Annette hummed softly to her belly.
When she wasn’t dreaming of jasmine, Brenya watched the Beta.
She was so composed, so sure of herself in all she did. She had no qualms about calling a servant to bring them some lunch or to order an errand.
Brenya could emulate the woman, copy the way she sat, the way she spoke, her laugh and smile and never come close to the elegance. If all Centrist women were this way, the sole Omega was doomed to be forever awkward.
She was asleep again when the male barged in, awake in an instant and sitting up alert to the stink of aggression. Brenya did not remember to smile. Everything she had practiced went out the window with one look at the Alpha’s rage.
Ancil had his hands on Annette, already having dragged his wife from her seat as he roared, “What did you do?”
The woman, the composed woman who had been so kind to her, stood shocked by her husband’s display. “What on earth do you mean?”
He gave the woman a hard enough shake that her hair fell loose from its twist. “Do not play coy with me. I know your games and tricks. Your note arrived while we were still in session… and can you guess what happened, dear wife?”
All innocence, Annette answered as if there was no threat. “Our Commodore asked for a report and I gave him one.”
“Your Commodore picked up his chair and smashed it into the wall in the middle of a sensitive trade negotiation. I have been winning Jacques over for weeks before he found his disfigured Omega, had practically earned his agreement. Greth Dome’s offer expires tonight; their cargo ship is already turning around. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? What you have ruined for me?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking ab—”
Right there, with Brenya braced in her chair, the Alpha struck his pregnant wife. The slap landed with force enough to knock the fair blonde’s head to the side.
Pressing her hand to her red cheek, staring wide-eyed at her husband as if looking at a stranger, Annette whispered, “He cannot be trusted to take care of her. He forgot to feed her for days, darling. He deserved the words on that page.”
“If he chooses to use her up until she dies, that is none of your concern. Your sole purpose is to carry my son to term, not dishonor my house with your pathetic meddling. Do not doubt Jacques might have you killed… if there is anything left of you by the time I’m done.”
Shaking her head, tears running down her face, Annette whimpered, “He would never.”
Ancil grew before her, his grip distorting the flesh of the Beta’s arms. “You do not know him so well as you think. You are certainly not valuable to him beyond serving as a dimwitted babysitter to his toy. Prepare yourself to learn what his anger looks like, but first you will deal with mine. When I am finished with you, you will remember your place.” The male began to drag her to the parlor door, bellowing, “You will pay for everything I lost today!”
Brenya didn’t know when she’d stood or how Ancil’s embroidered coat ended up in her fists. But she held onto the man dragging away a terrified woman, grunting from the effort to stop him.
Her whole life had been an exercise in physical training. She’d climbed the outside of the Dome daily for years, labored with heavy equipment. Annette might have been delicate, with soft arms and skin. Brenya was not.
But she was much weaker than a hissing male Alpha—one who shoved her so hard she fell back to the floor, her newly sculpted nails having ripped off in his coat.
Before the door might slam and Annette was to be hauled off, Ancil turned and showed his teeth. “You will take off that ridiculous dress she put you in. Ready yourself on the bed, and when your Commodore returns, you will beg him to fuck you. If I learn you have not, I will make her pay for it.”Chapter 9Blood trickling down his nose, a bright bruise blooming under one eye, Jacques stood before the mirror and waved off a Beta attendant ready to blot his monarch’s face clean. After the sparring he had endured, he was in no mood to be touched by anyone.