The Golden Line (Knotted 1)
You are no longer a person. You are property.
It did not even matter that their pace had left her flimsy garment loose, her left breast bouncing free of its covering. Not one of the males in the halls or galleries cared her modesty was gone or her hair flowed free and loose.
Don’t live. Serve.
“Morgaine, pay attention. I’ll not say it again.” Pulling her to an abrupt stop, Sergeant Uriel turned on his charge and gave her a look that said now was not the time to misbehave.
Winded from the effort to keep up, feet aching from pounding against cold floors, Morgaine curled her toes and tried to catch her breath. “What?”
He did not release a frustrated sigh, but his glare alone made it seem Sergeant Uriel greatly desired to. Shoulders back, neck tense, he stood as if on display for the multitude of Alphas milling about the gallery.
It was them—the soldiers in their vermilion armor edging nearer—that had made him this way. Without thinking, immensely nervous to see so many eyes on her, Morgaine toed back a step. Uriel’s tightening grip made retreat impossible. Staring at his face as he scanned the waiting crowd, the tense lines, the way his lip curled… the threatening growls offered to any who dared approach—she understood that she was prey in a room of circling predators. And only Uriel’s snarls kept the beasts at bay.
There is no Alpha on this ship who would cause you pain. All they want to offer is pleasure.
These males didn’t seem to have interest in her well-being, smirking, and glowering, and tasting the air.
“They are not permitted to touch you.” Sergeant Uriel passed her into a glass enclosure, so small that any position other than standing would be almost impossible. “Present yourself for their inspection. Explain your situation and special handling.”
She knew what he wanted her to say… what she was supposed to announce to all who showed interest, and frowned.
As if reading her closed expression and the taciturn intent of her thoughts, he amended, “Answer their questions. Show them your beauty and qualities. Behave.”
 
; Locking the entrance, Uriel stepped back and signaled that introductions could begin.
Surrounded in glass, males on all sides with nowhere to hide, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of Alphas were given their chance to approach and look upon her.
She was an item on display in the ship’s main gallery, males stopping by to stare, to mark the tally with potential bids, and to handle an array of her used clothing. Clothing that Uriel had laid out after she’d been locked away. Even the filthy dress she was abducted in was fought over by the masses, lifted to the noses of strangers, each eyeing her as if she were to be devoured.
Before he’d left, Uriel reminded her to stand and be seen, to look at them, to answer their questions. Morgaine had not lasted ten minutes after his departure before she was crouched upon the floor, hiding her head in her knees.
She was discussed as if she wasn’t there. “Why does it look unhappy?”
“According to her record, this Omega has yet to be knotted. It needs release.” Someone banged his knuckles on the glass. “Omega, lift your head so we might see you.”
She’d jumped at the taps, lifting red-rimmed eyes and setting them upon yet another stranger in vermilion armor. He looked like all the others, overly large, intimidating, and entitled. “My name is Morgaine. I have been ordered to tell you that I am feral. As of this morning I learned a feral designation necessitates I be separated from the regular female population for at least two years. I will require specific training.” Like a dog. Her voice caught in her throat, Morgaine on the verge of tears. “It is suggested my future mate mount me multiple times a day, otherwise I might regress.”
There were many males gathered, more stepping closer as she began to speak, only one of them asked, “Are you okay, Omega? I have never seen one of your kind cry.”
She had been warned by Uriel that tears in front of potential mates were unacceptable, but she could not stop them from falling. The only thing she could do was lie in an effort to appease. “I am lonely. A mate will rectify this flaw in my character.”
She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t face these men.
Forehead back to kneecaps, Morgaine breathed slow and deep, closed out the world around her, and tried her damnedest not to hear the males discussing her physical traits, her scent, the shade of her golden hair or the things they thought might cheer her—things that were all highly sexual in nature.
Where tears should have warned them off, it seemed it only made them desire her more.
A debate began on whether her first mating should be from behind so she would know the strength of her Alpha. Or, if she should be laid down in her nest and fucked from the front, where she might see and taste the male who would own her.
All agreed she should not be allowed to straddle an engorged Alpha cock—that was an honor she would have to earn.
More than one argued vehemently that her first time should be under the care of at least three males. That way they could keep her sticky with seed, stuff her full of cock, and break her in until exhaustion forced her to sleep. Three days of constant fucking would set her right… maybe more if she resisted.
The idea was atrocious.
Slumping down to the cold floor, Morgaine curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut until she saw spots.