Her place.
Looking at his outstretched palm, did not move her to take it. She could not bring herself to raise her fingers and obey. It was not an act of rebellion; it was the effect of finally comprehending that she was more a slave than even what Ancil intended to fashion Annette into.
Because she could feel, and it was awful.
Jacques wanted to take her to the room he’d punished her in. In that room that smelled of her slick, his come, and the lingering cloud of aggression and anger, she was to stand by his side and submit.
“I can’t move.” Her words were small, a speck of dust in the air.
He took mercy on her, reaching for her elbow to help her stand. When the female was on her feet, he swiped her nearest untouched glass, and held the dessert course’s sweet white wine to her lips. “Drink. It will help.”
Gulping gracelessly, she swallowed every last drop. She even stood still as Jacques leaned down to kiss a renegade dribble from her chin, her disgust only betrayed by the closing of her eyes and rapid rate of her breath when he drew near.
“I didn’t hurt you, mon chou. Your reaction is a bit extreme. Don’t you think?”
She could not dissect the tone of the lips at her ear—if he was warning her, if he was offering comfort, she could not tell. All she could do was dip her chin and hope he’d leave her be.
“Why do I get the sense that your nod is the first time you’ve lied to me?” Impatience made his voice far less beautiful. “Open your eyes. Look at me and tell me why you’re shaking.”
Lashes parted, Brenya vaguely aware that the other males had already gone ahead. She looked into eyes the color of envy and muttered the honest truth in her heart. “You’re a monster.”
A long, agitated sigh came from the Alpha. Eyeing her, he offered a condescending bow. “Truer words have never been spoken.”
And then he left her there, rejoining his guests with a smile painted on his face as if he were king of the world.
Brenya supposed he was.
Unsure what to do with herself, she wandered as far from the party as the dining room would allow. Positioned beside a grand window overlooking the architectural splendor of Central, she looked down at the city she had dedicated her life to, and did not recognize it at all.
“Those are the Bernard family diamonds. I have not seen them grace the neck of a woman since Jacques’ mother wore them.” It was meant to be a compliment, Brenya could tell by the kind tone of the elderly Alpha who’d approached. That did not mean it was welcome.
Exhausted, she spoke to the view. “He said as much.”
Rheumy eyes looked over her profile, lingering on her scar. “He never dressed his tarts in something of such value, dear girl. The statement in having you wear them now is… interesting. Just what do you suppose he is trying to say?”
Turning her back to the window, arms limp at her side, Brenya found more than the old Alpha had crossed the room to speak with her. Beside him stood an unsmiling Beta. There was a lifelessness in the stranger’s expression that mirrored exactly the way she wished she felt.
Empty instead of wretched.
“You must be Ambassador Jules Havel.”
“I am.”
She had no idea what to say to him, no idea what she was doing. “Did you enjoy your dinner?”
He blinked, abrupt in his answer. “No.”
Whatever they wanted, whatever reason they had for breaking from the party and coming to her, Brenya didn’t care. All she desired was to be left alone. “Neither did I.”
The old man had more to say. “It would be unwise for you to remain in here by yourself. You have not been bonded yet and the men are drinking and enamored with their company. They are distracted.”
Distracted? Stealing a glance in the direction of the open doors, Brenya found several of the available Omegas lingering near Jacques, laughing as he spoke. One was even touching his arm. She was a beauty on rival with Annette: icy hair, flawless skin, eyes as blue and clear as the sky.
Standing side by side they were a matched set. How many weeks before that lovely Omega was wearing the diamonds?
Inevitability stared her in the face. “You’re right. I should leave.”
It seemed rude to say such a thing before the Ambassador, but the old man did not hesitate. “You’re missing my point, Miss Brenya Perin. Those Omegas did not come all this way to be mated to mid-level bureaucrats. Go in there and remind them who is wearing the Bernard jewels.”
Her time in Central had taught her one thing, the old man would not be making such a suggestion unless the potential action benefited him in some way. In what way, she could not say. She didn’t comprehend any of the plots and schemes everyone here lived and breathed.