The Golden Line (Knotted 1)

There was a way to have a different outcome? Shooting up to her knees, Morgaine grabbed at the furs, holding a bunch up to her nose to sniff. “What if I favor one now?”

Crossing his arms over a barrel chest, Uriel scowled, entirely unamused. “It would be an illegitimate response. Had you recognized the scent of the most compatible male, you would not have scattered the fur away and tried your best to sleep uncovered despite modification to the room’s temperature.”

There was nothing to say, nothing that Alphas might listen to. Six days with these males and Morgaine knew ugly nursery rhymes were correct. Being born Omega was far worse than any evil.

Shaking his head at her stubborn silence, he warned, “You continually reject Alpha attention, are unaccustomed to adult urges—that will change quickly with this new curriculum.” Reaching down, he took her hand and urged her from the bed. “Sexual release accelerates acceptance. You cannot know what it is Corporal Esin offers you, and so your fear is misplaced.”

She knew what he offered. Every last muscle was still sore after what he’d done the day before.

The hollow feeling in her chest rattled with the deep vibrations the older man confidently projected. His purr might have been unwelcome, but the rumble was enough to allow her ribs to fully expand. Breath brought color to pale cheeks.

This was the submission they desired.

“Where I come from, being forced to have sex with strangers would see you executed by Alphas when they invaded to steal your crops and livestock.”

Not a single flicker of compassion was to be found in Sergeant Uriel. Cold discipline, the true hardness of a tried and tested warrior—he was unmoved. “There is no Alpha on this ship who would cause you pain. All they want to offer is pleasure. Corporal Esin is no different. The decision is out of your inexperienced hands. As with all Omegas I have trained, you will thank me once you’ve grasped what a knot might bring you.”

Even though she offered no resistance, Morgaine was dragged by her elbow to the table. Once seated, a plate was piled high.

“You will need your strength today. Eat.”

The Omega swallowed the food Uriel had chosen for her without tasting a bite. Afterward, a bath was ordered, tonics given to be swallowed that he claimed would cheer her. For the first time ever, the sergeant stood over her as she soaked. He ordered she clean under her nails, lather her hair with soap, oil it with a slimy unguent left in a jar by the rim.

All the water drained.

“I did not command you to rise.”

Half out of her seat, the soggy girl hesitated. She always hated this part, being wet and naked before an audience. But at least today the audience was not Corporal Esin.

Eyes on Uriel’s boots, Morgaine rearranged herself and kept her eyes downcast. Wet hair lay plastered over her breasts. Legs together, hands in her lap to cover as much of he

r secret place as possible.

“Before we prepare for today, I have news for you.”

Chin still tucked, she glanced up under her brows and waited for this news.

The Alpha looked pleased with himself, as if expectant to see her smile by what he would share. “Your genetics were run through our database to assure that none who offered for you were a blood relation.”

Unsure how to answer, Morgaine lifted her brows.

“During this process, your patriarch was also discovered.” Sergeant Uriel extended his arm, so she might obediently take his fingers. As she did, he added with a smile, “The Alpha in question was executed this morning.”

“Executed?” Her mouth fell open, her foot missed the mark, and Morgaine’s heel slipped on the tile.

Before she could do more than tangle her legs and bruise a shin, Sergeant Uriel caught her. He hauled her out and stood her far enough away from the ledge to prevent another accident. Steadying the girl, frowning, he said, “As I told you before, Alphas protect Beta settlements. Such a grievous breach of protocol had to be answered for. All are safe from him now. This should please you.”

She had never thought of the male who’d fathered her as a real person. Even her mother had never spoken of it. Morgaine had only learned of such a thing from cruel neighborhood gossip. As a child she had questioned why her mother had been shunned, why she had no friends beyond her aunt.

It had been Hanna who had told Morgaine she was an Alpha’s bastard when her boy had decided to play in their yard. She had said it as if letting her son play chase was the most magnanimous offering she might make as a neighbor.

Her mother had never complained, but there had been far-reaching consequences. No man in the settlement had asked for Elizabeta’s hand, no matter her sweet smile or skill with needle and thread.

She was tainted in their eyes.

But they had one another. Their lives were quiet and happy, with no need of outside interference.

And though they had avoided her mother, the same neighbors had never been cruel to her. In harsh winters, no one went hungry. When her aunt’s body had been found swinging from the rafters, many had come to offer solace.